Heavenly Soulweavers

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ZetaInfection

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Jan 4, 2019
Seeing as Owain had pretty much jumped at the opportunity of taking their boss to his room, Adalric supposed that he could get Alistair to a different room. "Don't you worry about the new guy. Ryden will likely have an eye on him as well."

Funny that Ryden jumped to the security thing now of all times. It was necessary, but that just meant that Adalric was the one left dealing with Alistair. Neither of them wanted to do it probably. Adalric went and picked the bloodied body up, carrying it to the other room. Should he clean him up? That would be awkward, wouldn't it? He didn't want to seem careless though, so he at least tidied him up a little bit and put him in a bed.

Surely Alistair didn't need someone constantly watching over him. Adalric came back to the room where Yomi was left fixed himself a drink, whatever he could find really, and sat down near a window where the moonlight was visible. It helped him feel at ease. "Don't think you'll get anyone's trust here very easily, especially with the bullshit that's currently going down." he stated, taking a sip of his drink and then looking out the window down at the city below. He didn't care much for conversation right now, more keen on just relaxing now that the worst of it was over.
 
Joined
Jan 4, 2019
(( Moved to a private thread so as not to flood this one ))

Blood was one of those things that didn't come out of cloth easily. As such that meant that what the boss man was wearing at the moment was likely going to be trashed. No reason to bother with the work that came with cleaning and patching an outfit when one could just buy a new one. One of those thoughts that were easier for Owain to focus on at the moment then everything else that was trying to whirl around in his brain at the moment. He didn't want to think about it, that he'd almost died, that he'd seen the man's soul, that the one called Yomi was still on the premise. Everyone else seemed fine with it, making him wonder if perhaps he had some sort of power over them. What if he'd mesmerized everyone else?

Owain shook his head. No, no... that was among the things he didn't want to think about! All he wanted to focus on right now as the boss man. He needed to get stripped down, cleaned up, redressed, and then tucked into bed. He looked down at the man he was carrying in his arms, watching him very closely, watching the manner in which his chest was rising and falling. That was enough to calm him as far as Agamemnon's situation went. The others though, that is what he was worried about at the moment. It was very possible that they had a snake in their midst and nobody was doing anything about it. Once the boss man woke up though he'd be able to ask him what he thought, about the situation he'd walked into, about Yomi, and what he wanted to do with him. It wasn't his place to choose a punishment for him or strike him down with his own hands.

Once he was within Agamemnon's bedroom, or possible a guest room he actually had no idea, he looked around the room to see what he had to work with. He fetched towels first, something that was a bit interesting to do while still carrying him around, but once he'd fetched them from the adjoining bathroom he laid them out on the bed and Agamemnon was laid out on them.

"Alright, there we go." He murmured, pleased with his work so far. It was the most he'd done in ages, but laying him on the towels would only risk staining said towels and keep the bedding fresh. He starred down at the boss man for a long, drawn out moment, then wandered back to the bathroom to get a few hand towels, soaking them down with warm water, and returned to the man's side once more, "You will have to excuse me, boss man. Gonna strip you down now." He told the one he served before he set to work doing just that. The clothing was balled up, wrapped in a towel, and tossed aside for the time being. Once he had him stripped down he'd set about the task that was cleaning him of the blood that clung to him.
 
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Lo DeBale

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Jan 2, 2020
The Masters Bedroom

Near death experiences were something that tended to change a man. A brush with the other side had a way of sticking with you. And it was no different at all for Agamemnon. When the pain of his injuries had finally faded, so too did any sense of time or space. What followed was the oddest sensation of detachment he'd ever experienced. As if he were suddenly separated from any and all sense of self, past, present or future and simply made to experience all at once while becoming nothing at all. It was the tunnel that bridged the world of the living with the hereafter. And the only thing that occured to Agamemnon as his soul flowed further and further down the stream of death was that he couldn't allow this. He saw all he had been, all he was, and all he would never be now that future had been snipped from his path like a stray thread on an expensive jacket. And he couldn't allow this to be the end of it.

His struggle to resist was aided by a warm caress and a familiar voice which reached him from the other side. And soon, that all powerful force pulling him toward the great beyond was suddenly stifled. He felt himself slowly drifting back toward himself, darkness drowning out the sensations of this strange otherworldly experience until he was once more taken in by oblivion. It was unclear how long he'd sat it that torpid abyss of unconsciousness. It wasn't until he felt a more tangible warmth glancing over his naked flesh that the darkness finally began to ebb and consciousness slowly took its place. Where was he? Who was touching him? And why did it feel so nice? As questions began to firm in his mind, Agamemnon's eyes would slowly flutter open in time to see Owain diligently working to clean blood from his masters bare flesh. It was an unexpected sensation to say the least. The way Owain slowly slid the warm wet towel over his chiseled form was almost loving in its delicate approach. And the feeling caused blood to rush in Troy's body. A shameful bit of exhilaration for how the other man touched him, a desire for more that he would not entertain would bring him back into lucidity and finally he would sit up in bed, looking to Owain with a groggy yet grateful expression.

"My father was lucky enough to die before he became so old that he needed sponge baths. I had hoped I would be as well." Agamemnon joked as he ran his hand through his now rather bedraggled silvery hair. It was perhaps the first time Owain had heard the boss man joke around. He always maintained such a serious air about himself that one would be forgiven for thinking he had no sense of humor at all. But near death experiences did tend to change a man. Aggy turned in bed and let his legs drape over the edge of the mattress with a sigh as he stretched out and stood up. "Now… how exactly did I wind up here? And what happened to my new improvised orifices…. hmmm." Troy mused as he pieced together his memories within his still hazy mind.

He turned to face Owain with a wry smirk as he puzzled out the only logical conclusion. It would have taken him a few weeks at least to heal up naturally. But a quick inspection of his sheet revealed not even scar tissue. Only a bit of dried blood where his wounds used to be. "I'm guessing young Yomi has healing abilities? Odd… I wouldn't have guessed that as a part of Anubis' repertoire…" Aggy took the towel from Owain and wiped away the last bits of lingering blood that still clung clotted and cracked to his chest. And while he wasn't exactly bold enough to check, Aggy could still feel that the blood had rushed to more southern regions of his body thanks to Owains attention. He only hoped he wasn't too obviously stiff and ready. Though he hadn't been touched like that in years so he might need to worry a bit if he wasn't. "Thanks for getting me sorted, Owain. I'm gonna grab a shower. You're free to join me if you like. I'm happy to return the favor, heheh." More out of character jests. Or was he actually flirting this time. For Owain, it was likely unclear and might seem as though the boss man had lost a few of his marbles. But death had brought Agamemnon to an epiphany. He'd spent his entire life adhering to such strict and stringent rules and protocols. And in the end, it hadn't done a single fucking thing to save his life or spare Al that suffering. Nor had it prepared him for all the chaos tonight had brought already. So perhaps it behooved him to loosen up a bit. To test out a different approach to matters.
 

Lady-Gothika

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Jan 27, 2020
Location
Fiery Pits of Mordor
Yomi could not have fled even if he had wanted to. The drain of his energy left him mostly powerless for the time being and the only thing he could do was limited to the abilities of a normal human. Therefore it would have been near impossible for him to leave without Adalric or Ryden having taken notice. He sat on the floor for some time trying to compose himself. Once he felt stable once again, Yomi stood and sat on a proper chair. He looked to Adalric who had just entered the room and offered a faint smile. "I do not expect trust. Trust is something that is earned not simply given. Believe me when I say that more than anyone I understand the value of trust. It is not something that I myself am able to give away with ease."

Yomi's greatest flaw was perhaps his inability to trust others due to the experiences of his past so the lack of trust Adalric and the others had for him was not a concept lost on him nor did it seem illogical in any way. "I can tell you all most anything about myself that you may need to know. I do not feel the need to run or hide and I have no fear of revealing truths about myself to any of you. I have done nothing wrong and am only at fault due to my weakness. I was unable to protect your master because I lack experience in combat. However I am not his Doll so I cannot be as attune to his needs or as in sync with him as the rest of you."
 
Joined
Jan 3, 2020
Location
My Couch, USA
The time that would pass between the transfer for the wounds from his master onto himself escaped his thoughts entirely. When Alistair awoke he found himself in what appeared to have been a guest room of his master's penthouse perhaps. The wounds indeed had healed though a sharp pain had been left lingering throughout his entire body. It would take some time for it to subside and that was an inconvenient certainty. He had been left there with little care and regard though it was not something that gazed him in the slightest. Not much would at this point. The rush of emotions that might have run throughout his body had this been some other instance was replaced with a feeling of abyssal nothingness the likes of which he had not felt before. Or perhaps to be more precise, the likes of which he had not felt for some time. It had not been since his youth that he had felt such overwhelming nothingness flood his heart and spirit. A strange state of unfeeling which seemed familiar yet simultaneously distant now. What had kept him from feeling this way before?

A memory drifted to the forefront of his mind for a moment as he slowly rose to position himself upright on the bed. A memory which had mostly been fragmented at this point. A memory from some time ago which he wished not to recall. Rooms with ivory walls and golden embellishments and trim illuminated by the bright lights of gaudy chandeliers handing from high vaulted ceilings. Several men in designer suits and women in floor length gowns crowded about the halls and floors of the grand estate. A party? Ah yes, one of the many gatherings of the upper echelons which his parents had forced him to attend. The vision of a younger self slipping out into a vacant balcony where he could find peace even for a brief moment. A place where he could let his mind wander to dark places where nothing existed. A place of total isolation where he felt he could belong. For Alistair there was no place around others despite the facade of a brilliantly warm and alluring smile he would display for others. Behind bright azure eyes lay a distant soul in isolation. Floating in a void and desiring only to put an end to the charade.

He was not as kind as everyone thought. Not as perfect as they wanted him to be. Alistair was no cruel person, but his nature was far more apathetic than he led on. No one could know. No one would know. Yet as he stood there on that balcony contemplating any and all possible escapes a voice called out to him. Slender body turning to face a young man a mere five years his senior. Their conversation was expected to be like most others yet by the end of it the man had managed to call out to him. Not to the flesh and bone standing before him, but to that soul hidden amongst cold shadows. It had been the moment Alistair had met Agamemnon and the moment the man had unknowingly claimed the other's very essence as his own. Without his master, Alistair had no purpose. Without Agamemnon, there would be nothing left for him except to return to that dark place once again.

Alistair stood from the bed disregarding the pain that surged throughout his body. It would pass with some time. He was bothered more about the complete disregard for his simple request that the others seemed to have had. He wondered briefly if Agamemnon had yet to awaken though those thoughts were pushed out of his mind as he recalled why he had given Ryden and the others that loose order to begin with. He didn't want to face Agamemnon right now; not as he was. Had the man seen him at all? Seen his form exposed and beaten so badly? It was unsightly and a thought that would eat away at Alistair with a sickening guilt. Worse yet were the thoughts lingering below the surface. If Agamemnon had indeed woken up where was he now? With one of the others? Perhaps unwinding with the rest. After all that transpired he deserved it right? A few drinks to ease his worries. Some alone time with one of them? Ryden perhaps? Or maybe Adalric? Owain? Would they cease the opportunity then to become closer? Intimate?

The thoughts might have hurt, frightened him even, yet what was worse was his inability to feel anything. It was as if the normal emotions that might have plagued him took the place of logic and the side of emotion was left a barren wasteland. He could not stand by and let things be as they were. It was perhaps a fortune that Adalric had placed him in a room which contained some manner of attire hanging in the closet. Old clothes mean to be set aside and donated perhaps or kept as spares. It didn't matter what it was, but they would do for now. Alistair covered himself with the bare essentials, a simple black shirt and slacks, and proceeded to leave the room. He would clean up another time. He would repay Agamemnon for anything he had spoiled with his blood. Right now though he just wanted to be as far away from them as possible.

The thought not once crossed his mind that Ryden might have been watching through the security system but no attempt was made to stop him from leaving either. Not from the general living space at the very least. Though he intended on just outright leaving, Alistair somehow found himself riding the elevator to the floor where he had been a fee hours prior. The pool his master had been swimming in upon his initial arrival now mostly still and vacant, illuminated only by the pale silver light of the moon whose glow shone in through the massive clear windows which overlooked the mystical cityscape around them. The cool dark water seemed inviting somehow in a sort of melancholy way and as if in a trance Alistair moved closer to their edge. Hands instinctively moving to remove the coverings he had only just minutes ago dawned and as he reached the water's very edge he had been stripped down entirely yet again. The rune marks to his left glowing a faint blue light and his eyes shifting hues to match. A place which was isolated. Cold. Dark. It seemed all too familiar. All you welcoming to his spirit.

In the moonlight his golden hair took almost the hue of the moon itself and trailed behind him light a streak of starlight as his body dove down into the water. Unthinking, his body moved with little purpose other than to reach the very depths of the abyss. The pool itself of course would not run infinitely deep, but Alistair could remain within its deepest point and his mind would do the rest. The sold water surrounding him and the pain surging through his body was like surrendering to the clutches of death. The pull to nothingness enticing. Pale blue eyes shut tightly and his mind wandered back into the soothing nothingness as his body was left to float there without concern or purpose.
 

Lo DeBale

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Joined
Jan 2, 2020
As Al awoke, he would be blissfully unaware that he was not entirely alone. But if Ryden were to cast a glance toward the monitor which displayed the camera feed from the guest room, he would catch sight of a well dressed and impossibly handsome man standing over the doll as he rose. To Al, the man was completely invisible. Almost like a ghost. But to Ryden, the feed showed him clear as day. It was perhaps a bit unnerving how he just stood there, looming over Al and grinning like a madman. Though as the doll stood and went to dress himself, the stranger would track him with his gaze. And along the way, his attention would turn toward the camera through which Ryden would be able to view him. When his gaze met Rydens through the monitor, it was as if the man were staring right at the young man. As if he could somehow see him. And his eyes, gods they were as black as pitch. Like black bottomless pools of tenebrous darkness and fathomless emptiness which even the night god would feel a reflexive and instinctual revulsion for. It was not natural. Not normal. Not anything that should have been and yet there it was, standing him right on the face with that horrid grin.

The longer the man stared, the more the camera feed would distort. Static slowly intensified as the man rose a single outstretched finger to his lips. And just before the feed cut out, Ryden would hear a clear and distinct "Shhhhhhh" sound right into his ear, as if its terrible source were right there in the room with him. Then, the guest room camera would go dark. The experience might very well have been rather unnerving for the young man. But should he bring this intruder to the others attention, his presence would likely prove even more unsettling to Yomi. For the young doll who was so very good at feeling people, at reading their auras and sensing their presence would be completely unaware of the invading stranger until and only if Ryden decided to inform the others about him. It was as if the man didn't even have an aura, or even a soul in general. He was like a spectre. A horrid nothingness who's unspeakable presence would only become apparent when and how he wished it to be. And even the use of his divine powers was completely obfuscated. Ryden was this man's sole witness. And thus he would remain as per the strangers design. At least for the moment.

Samuel watched Al disrobe after stalking him to the pool room. His presence still entirely concealed as he stared on with mild disgust and apathy for what he considered a most unsightly excuse for a doll. It was, as they tended to say, the greatest trick the God had merged with ever played on mankind. Convincing them he didn't exist. And it was a fine trick indeed. Samuel could erase all traces of his existence at will from the minds of any man or woman. And only those exceptional few like himself who had fully awakened and become one with the divinity inside their souls could see through this trick. Samuel took a seat calmly in one of the pool side chairs as Al began his mopey little skinny dip. Crossing his legs and reclining slightly as he fought back the urge to vomit that quickly arose at the sight of the other man's naked flesh. "How very pathetic. Look at you, wallowing in your own redundance and self pity." The voice seemed to echo all around Al, and would ring in his ears and his only. The faint scent of sulfur soon wafted through the gloomy poolhouse and, following this, the deep guttural sound of a canines growl would echo out through the room.

"He'll never love you, you know. But who could blame him. Look at you? What good are you really? Nothing but trouble. A deceptive and needy little ball of secrets and self centered desires. You don't deserve love. You don't even deserve to live." The voice rang in Al's ears like nails on a chalkboard, the words scraping painfully like icy daggers across his mind. The foul and hellish scent which crept through the air would quickly intensify. And it was just as horrid as the voice. Like rotten eggs and burning flesh, it stung the nostrils and turned the stomach as the faint sound of tortured screams seemed to reach Al from across impossible distance here and now. Then, it came. The hound. It was a massive and imposing beast. The body of a doberman but with the size of a bull mastiff. The hellish stench seemed to pour off the creature in waves as it stood beside the pool, glaring directly into Al's soul with burning red eyes as his growled and licked its snarling muzzle. At its paws, the ground smoldered. Concrete turning into hot molten stone at it's very touch while dark smog seeped from its mouth and nostrils. "But perhaps you aren't entirely worthless, husk of Baldur. Perhaps it you recognize the futility of your pathetic existence. Perhaps if you submit and obey like a good little husk. Perhaps I might be able to grant your worthless existence some meaning." The voice seemed to come from the hellhound then. Samuel would not yet dignify Al by speaking to him directly. So he would communicate through his familiar. And if he found displeasure in what Al had to say for himself, he would have the hellhound boil him alive in the waters where he swam for the insult.
 
Joined
Jan 3, 2020
Location
My Couch, USA
Alistair could hardly hear anything outside his own thoughts but those vile words pierced the thick veil of loathing and regret he felt. The words stung, but not for their obvious and superficial meaning. The man had no need to tell him what he already felt. What he already knew. It was a pointless endeavor on the man's part, yet his words still swayed the blonde male to ride from the bottom of the waters to at the very least acknowledge him if only for a moment.

Alistair turned to face the general direction of where the man had sat and where the hound watched him with wretched, hungry eyes. His own eyes cold and pale like two orbs of the purest angelite tucked in what might otherwise have been hollows of pure darkness not unlike Samuel's own eyes. He listened quietly. Listened to all venom the man spat at him. Listened with no more intrigue than he listened to the incessant questions of the reporters the day prior when he was once again left to handle things on his own. The day his master showed no more desire to praise him beyond the typical "job well done" that was as standand as a Hallmark greeting card one would send out during holidays to people if for nothing else but to show the obligatory gesture that one somehow still cared for those formalities. And yet his praise and interest of the others seemed much more warm and inviting. Alistair was merely a loyal assistant while the other three were likely something far more personal. The looks Agamemnon gave Owain in particular was a testiment to how little Alistair likely meant to the man despite their history together.

"What is it you want me to say?" Alistair asked with a flat tone near void of any emotion. "I cannot deny that in your word you speak some truth. He would never love me. Not if I was loyal or treacherous. Not if I were kind or cruel. Nothing matters to him. I have stayed by his side for years for my own selfish reasons. Yet I too have my limits Sir. Though I would kindly ask that you keep me out of your empty desires. End me if you so wish. If you think you can. Sear the flesh off my bones and let the rest of me rot. I am not in service to Lord Agamemnon purely for my love for him. His ideals were what drew me to him in the first place. I will leave him of my own accord when I so deem it fit which honestly... may not be too far off in the future. Your voice. Your expression. Your maniacal ways have no sway on my heart. What is it that you want me to tell you? I am indeed worthless and pained. I am selfish and I have secrets. Then again, who doesn't. If you wish for me to serve one such as yourself then give me reason to do so. I do not fear death so what will you do?"
 

Lady-Gothika

Member
Joined
Jan 27, 2020
Location
Fiery Pits of Mordor
From the darkness hazy eyes watched their interactions. Poor Baldur. Sweet and kind Baldur. How history cruelly repeated itself over and over again for that unfortunate soul. Each lover he found perished right before his eyes or betrayed him, or he could not outlive. Nana had been the first to fall as a cause of Baldur's death and for centuries others followed suit in this habitual practices which only fed the cloud of doom and despair that hung over the man's head. This incarnation of the tragic god seemed no different than the rest. And like always his charioteer into the abyss would wait in the shadows for his return.

Issac was a rouge doll. He served no master and cared little for the afairs and power struggles of the world around him. For some time now he had been accompanying Samuel if for no other reason other than to observe his ways. The man was different. A fallen god who sought to drive a steak into the heart of Sanctuary and cause some form of chaotic revolution. A man who sought power to rule and destroy yet refused to renounce the powers of a god he had been foolishly granted.

Issac watched their brief exchange though he was rather displeased by the way Samuel called out to Alistair. Such brutish ways. The man clearly held no concept over the workings of psychology and the art of the warfare he could incite with its power. Clearly Alistair was not one to give in so easily to his forceful approach either. Issac chose to step out of the shadows and approach them to mediate the situation. As he approached the room became much colder, banishing the heat from the the man and his hideous hound and casting a thin sheet of ice over the ground. An ice which grew and crapt slowly up pillars and walls until all was frozen around them. At his side, a coal black wolf followed along. Its eyes tinted a deep crimson and his appearance, though physically normal, held a spectral veil around it which weaved an appearance of a more grotesque and haunting apparition.

Isaac gave no semblance of regard from Alistair and instead addressed Samuel directly. "My Garmr is not fond of your hound," he stated blankly as his eyes fell on the two demonic hounds now growling at one another. "Do you want to kill Baldur? Or sway his loyalty? You are not good at swaying the hearts of those more complax are you?" Isaac was void of fear and thus he often spoke freely and openly towards anyone and Samuel was certainly no exception. "Baldur belong in my realm. I am the god who watches over him. Kill his master and give him what he wants. Mead sways a man's actions better than serpent's venom and makes him far more malleable to your design. He wants affection and pleasure. Why not give him what it is he desires and let his power blossom in truth unlike the other husks you have forced pseudo growth on? Baldur's power can blossom into such a beautiful and deadly flower. A chained beast of chaos is his heart's companion and with the two of them you could better accomplish your pathetic goals could you not? His beast brings about the Ragnarok and a brilliant god who is morphed into a god of death is a powerful tool that is wasted in the hands of the incapable and indecisive. You should learn diplomacy and battle your enemies, not your future allies."
 

Lo DeBale

Member
Joined
Jan 2, 2020
Samuel's expression hardened at Isaac's interruption. Studies on this one had revealed him to be one of the few awakened dolls in existence today, one of the great adversaries peers. But apparently the man was also prone to games. Having little purpose or ambition in his hollow existence than in toying with others. This was evident in the pompous and patronizing way he addressed the poison of god. It was clear that he had neither any faith in the "advice" he was offering nor any care if it was taken or ignored. He was simply looking for a reaction. Playing games. Making a nuisance of himself. And if this weren't annoying enough, the morose and self pitying state had found baldur's vessel wallowing in was rather unsightly. Not something Sam would wish to endure for long. But luckily he hadn't come here to recruit Al, not really. Despite his words, Sam's only real goal was to torment what he perceived to be a rather exceptionally pathetic doll. A husk that made even humans seem redeemable by comparison.

Without even bothering to address either the depressed doll or the awakened apathetic directly, Samuel pointed a finger at Al and, in a flash, a streak of white hot hellfire pierced his skull like a bullet. Sam knew well that the regenerative qualities granted by baldur's soul were far from perfect. And even in top form, Al would struggle to recover from such a grievous wound and a four inch hole burned right through the brain. And as he was now, weakened from his earlier run in with the mad doll, Sam was quite confident that if the shot didn't outright kill Alistair, it would damage him for whatever remained of his life. While a prediction could not be made as to which outcome might transpire, Sam was confident enough in his research over the dolls not to worry. After all, it took quite a bit of torture to extract all the data he had from high ranking agents of sanctuary. And people did not simply protect false or useless information even after having their entrails replaced with poisonous snakes.

After striking down Al and leaving his body to float limply in the pool, his blood clouding the waters with a reddish hue, Sam turned to face Isaac directly. And as he did so, the two were transported to an opulent and rather secluded little bungalow in the south of France. The pool house shifted in an instant to a comfortable little balcony overlooking a sprawling and beautiful vineyard. Beside them was a fancy tea table set with a platter of expensive cheeses as well as a bottle of vintage red and two glasses. "Ah, Isaac. What an absolute delight it is to have such an accomplished chosen call on me. You really must forgive me, though. Had I known you'd planned a visit I would have prepared a welcome befitting such an illustrious guest."

Sam's disposition seemed to turn on a dime. Gone was the venom and vitriol he spewed forth at Al. Replaced with honeyed words and magnetic charm that, while likely entirely ineffective on the ice hearted Hel, were nevertheless a rather stark contrast to Sam's prior demeanor. The man offered Isaac a calm and approachable smile before turning to pour them each a glass of wine. "I do hope you won't take offense that all I have to offer on such short notice is a bit of wine and cheese." He said humbly even as he proceeded to hand Isaac a glass full of easily eight hundred dollars worth of aged french wine. "Its a seventy eight. I do hope it meets with your approval, chosen of the great goddess Hel."

Once he'd handed Isaac the wine, he took his own glass in hand and drank in its fragrant bouquet while looking to Isaac over the rim of his glass with a sharp and appraising gaze. Sam then savored a slow sip if the crimson spirits, the act seeming almost sensual in nature as he drew in scarlet liquid past his soft, parted lips. "Mmmm. Delicious." He commented, though in truth he savored the wine far less then he did the notion that he might very well have put Hel's little treasure Baldur back into circulation. Further extending the time it would take for the gods soul to be reclaimed by the icy chains of Niflheim and Hel's domain. Sam would remain ever the picture of hospitality for his peers. Believing he owed that much to his fellow awakened. But disrespect still required correction. "So tell me, Isaac. To what do I owe the honor of your visit. Surely you've not simply come to advise me on how best to deal with such a worthless and pathetic doll as that little husk…, oh, what was its name. Alice? Albert? Ugh, forgive me. It's so hard to keep a mental catalogue of all the riff raff cluttering this world. There's just so very much garbage out there today."

---​

As the poison of god whisked Isaac away to france, there was an audible pop which broke the stillness of the poolhouse. The sound of air crashing into the vacuum left behind which, just moments ago, had been occupied by two bodies. And for a few moments, the only thing out of place within the pool house was the corpse floating in the deep end of the water. But that would change only a few moments after the departure of the awakened.

The ding of the elevator would break the silence once more. And wisps of pale white smoke would curl around the doors as they parted. Johan wore a rather incredulous expression on his face as he stepped into the pool house. Not quite knowing what to expect as he strolled toward the scene of the discord which had attracted him here like a moth to the flame. But upon first glimpsing Al's corpse bobbing in the pool, the man's expression changed in an instant. A playful grin parted his pierced lips and his golden eyes glinted with mischief as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to summon one of his familiars.

At his command, a beautiful panther leaped out of thin air and landed gracefully on its feet beside her master. The beast looked up to Jonah with its piercing green eyes and, as if able to read her master's desires with but a glance, dove into the pool to retrieve the Alistair's body. After collecting him, careful not to damage his body further with her deadly jaws, the panther placed the body gently down at her masters feet on his back. Johan rewarded his familiar with a loving pet on the head and some scratches on her cheeks which immediately elicited a series of pleasurable purrs from the contented beast even though she was now dripping wet.

Upon kneeling down beside Alistair, Johan was given a start when his feline companion abruptly decided to shake herself dry and douse him in the water which had clung to her fur. His fine black suit was quickly soaked and his lit cigarette put out with a hiss as a result. Johan gave his beast a rather unamused look but quickly laughed it off as he turned his attention back to the body before him. "I can't imagine this is how ya saw your night ending." He mused as he traced a hand gently over the smooth skin of Al's face. And with a touch, he could feel all that the man's life had been in a flash. All the regret, discontent and toil which had culminated finally in this tragic and abrupt demise. He was also able to glean the presence of two powerful gods present among the madness of sorrow and emptiness within the dolls still heart. These potents brought with them a touch of sympathy for the doll in Johan. But also an irresistible lure toward the mischief that was his chief vice. How very fun it would be to shake things up for those two by bringing this one back, stronger and more spirited than perhaps they might have bargained for. The visions showed the gods holding such smug expressions as they looked down on this one. And Johan felt an irresistible urge to see those two knocked down a peg or two, preferably by this pretty boy at his feet.

"I can offer you one more chance. To live again. To live the life you desire. To be the man you were always meant to be. Would ya like that kiddo?" Johan grabbed Al by the hair and moved his head up and down as if to make him nod in approval. "Great! Good answer kiddo! Now than… Johan held out a hand and in his grasp appeared a luxurious golden chalice; a relic belonging to the god who'd joined with his soul so many years ago. Johan tipped the chalice to one side and from it poured what could easily be the finest wine in existence. It landed on the parted lips of the dolls corpse and immediately the warmth of the spirits chased away the cold chill of death. As the trickle of sweet crimson made it's way down Al's throat, his injuries would slowly begin to heal. But the wine gods miracle did not bring him back to life from the clutches of death, for that was not within his power. Not really. Instead, Al would be reborn just as Dionysus had so long ago. The healing magic of the wine would bring him back, but he would be forever changed after his brush with death. And as Johan gazed down at the beautiful young man, watching the color return to his lovely flesh, he found himself wondering how different Al would be from the man he'd glimpsed in the visions granted by his cold dead heart.
 
Joined
Jan 4, 2019
Owain felt bad about leaving the boss man behind when he had so recently been injured. He felt bad, but the man would surely understand once he was able to explain. Someone was dead in the building. What had happened? Who had been killed? And was Yomi involved? A part of him felt a little bad about instantly suspecting that one but he would feel more comfortable around him once he had a moment to actually learn something about him. Right now he was suspicious of him... and having someone end up dead after he'd arrived? That only made him appear as that much more so.

Currently the vessel of Hades was doing something that he didn't usually do, that being running. Running was the absolute worst! Especially when one took into account the fact that he was currently bare foot, bare chest, and his hair was on the soggy side. He paused at the elevator that could bring him up toward where he could sense the feeling of Death, then shook his head, taking the stairs instead.

As he hurried up the stairs he found himself growing a bit confused. That sensation, it was... fading? What was going on? Was someone present that could reverse Death? Was it what Yomi had done? No, he'd traded Agamemnon's wounds over to someone else. Wait... was that it? Was Alistair dead? Had he succumb to the wounds that Yomi gave him? His mind was whirling now, trying to make sense of what was going on. There was no sense to be made though. Today had been a mess and he had a feeling that mess was going to get worse before it got better.
 
Joined
Jan 3, 2019
Location
Florida, US
It had all happened so quickly. Ryden could only sit for the longest while staring blankly into nothingness. The darkness from that man's eyes, deep pools of deep black abyss which could blanket even the very night itself. He was after... Alistair? He provoked Ryden, but the youth would not take his bait. Not for some grand intellectual purpose or for wisdom of likely the man attempting to set a trap for Ryden and his brothers. No, his hesitation was purely out of fear. Concern. Concern for his own safety and the safety of the others.

Like Owain, Ryden too was suspicious of Yomi, but his eyes he thought, would not deceive him to such an extent. Yomi was clearly in the lounge conversing with Adalric. He showed no signs of anticipation for any of the strange events and seemed blissfully unaware. So Ryden watched. He watched the camera feed quietly. Intently. Alistair's display perhaps almost as disturbing as the presence of the strange man. Alistair had such darkness within him as well? It was not impossible of course and Ryden knew well enough that Alistair kept his secrets, but this? This was something that went beyond his obsessive affections for their master.

The appearance of the hellhound, the appearance of Isaac and his own hound, the attack on Alistair. All that came painfully slowly and simultaneously breathtakingly quickly. Ryden could not make sense of time that had passed or the events that had transpired. All he could manage to finally understand was that Alistair was now seemingly dead and the intruders were gone. Had it been cruel of him to simply watch? No. Truly Ryden had been frozen in fear. For all his knowledge and wisdom, at his core, as a himan, Ryden was still young and inexperienced and all the power of the night goddess could not save him from those reactions and emotions.

Crimson tainted the once clear waters of the pool and finally Ryden could released his hitched breath. Yet still he could not move. He would not move. Not until his mind could truly grasp what the situation was. Nowhere on the camera feed was that evil man and his companions. There was instead a new face. A new intruder who had managed to make his way to that very room with Alistair and was now using powers Ryden had not seen before. The man summoned a panther? A chalice? Enough.

On the feed, Ryden saw Owain rushing toward that very room. Had he sensed it? Surely. He was a god of death after all. Yet... so was Yomi was he not? Why hadn't the younger male noticed too? Was it intentional or was Yomi simply inexperienced? Too many questions and no time to ponder them. Ryden set the defenses to high level lockdown and rushed out of the room. The defense system was not designed like some cheesy Hollow action movie stunt where sirens and alarms went off as adamantium doors barricaded their fort. No, everything was set silently and normally; a good thing as they likely didn't want Agamemnon freaking out though ultimately that would be unavoidable. Ryden rushed through the halls passing Owain on the stairs and only exchanging the briefest of words, "I'll get the other two and we'll be right there".

He rushed to the lounge, bursting through the doors likely startling both Yomi and Adalric. No time for explination unfortunately. "You two come on. Blondie is dead." His eyes reflected an apologetic look to Adalric, but upon shifting their midnight gaze to Yomi, they appeared more intense and judging. "If you are a god of death then why didn't you rush to his side immediately? I better not find out you were involved in this. If he's gone for good and you are involved I swear I will make you pay dearly for this."
 

ZetaInfection

Member
Joined
Jan 4, 2019
Adalric had been enjoying his drink and the calm that came after such a hectic evening. One leg was up on the windowsill he sat in while the other draped down, his back up against the side of the window frame as he stared out at the streets below. Like this he didn't have a care in the world. From up here everything looked beautiful. The night sky accentuated by the bright lights of the city below which looked like a sea of stars from up here. With the moonlight streaming over him like this he could simply relax, even with an unknown like Yomi around.

To be fair, Yomi had been quite well behaved. He stayed within sight so they couldn't suspect him of anything. Though even if Yomi had tried to get out of sight, Adalric knew that Ryden would see him. That peaceful moment was interrupted when Ryden came bursting into the room rather urgently, his first words something that nearly went over Adalric's head. It was hard to process. The perfectly obedient and loyal dog who had just taken on his master's wounds...dead? How? Had Yomi's trick not worked?

Adalric looked quite visibly stunned by the news. At first he didn't feel much about it because he had never cared much to associate with him on a closer level. Him and Ryden had had their fair share of making fun of him in private, but Adalric didn't despise or hate Alistair. With such a wide array of dolls out there it was only natural that not all of them would mesh well together. The same was quite evident when it came to humanity in general.

When Ryden's scrutiny turned upon Yomi, Adalric also felt that it was suspect. Then again, Yomi didn't display too much emotion so he could just have an unintentional poker face. Even so, why hadn't he spoken up? Adalric set his near empty glass down on the windowsill and got up rather hurriedly. "What the hell happened? I thought he had some amazing self healing properties? How the hell did he die?!"

In a way Adalric was suddenly feeling a bit guilty. He had done nothing wrong, but this might have played out differently had he remained at Alistair’s side instead of walking off and leaving him alone. This was just an outcome that he hadn’t been able to predict. Perhaps he had been neglecting his divinations. He didn’t think that things could get this out of hand so quickly.

He was urgent in his movement, ready to follow along and see what on earth had transpired. Ryden was quite visibly shaken so surely it couldn’t have been something as simple as Alistair succumbing to his wounds. No, something bigger was going on here.
 
Joined
Jan 4, 2019
Owain found himself passing by Ryden on his way up the stairs and for once he didn't find himself intimidated by the other man. He wasn't sure why but there was just something about him... perhaps it was whatever God was the vessel for? He told himself that he'd learn more about Ryden later, not to mention the others who were still with them. For now he'd tend to... well, whatever it was that was going on.

Once he reached the floor he was going for he hurried forward, heart start to thud a bit painfully as he realized where he was going. He had started out the day in the pool area and now he was going back there again, though this time it was making him feel that much more queasy to return. He wasn't just going to visit the boss man after all, he was going into some sort of unknown situation to face off against... well, the Gods knew what.

Bursting into the room the first thing he saw the was the pool now contaminated and dyed red. He shook his head, telling himself over and over in his head that it was just a pool, just a pool, that wasn't the river that would take memories away.

From there he set to glancing around the area, his eyes landing upon Alistair, some stranger, and a... panther? He blinked a couple times then found himself saying, "I... know you..." Wait... no, he didn't know him. He was a stranger, someone he'd never even crossed paths with in passing, but why did he feel familiar? Shaking his head he started forward, "So it was Blondie that died? How? Why? Yomi wasn't involved, was he?" How was it that he wasn't dead now though, was he? He seemed to be breathing again. Was it the power of Alistair's God? Or was it due to the stranger that was sitting with him? He supposed the only way to figure that out was to ask.
 
Joined
Jan 3, 2020
Location
My Couch, USA
The appearance of the smaller male left Alistair petrified. "I... know you." His mind was shocked awake and was racing a mile a second. Memories flowing through him like wildfire. Chilling and isolating. The sensations of his death, or... perhaps not his exactly but rather of Baldur himself. Hel... Hel was once again present before him which meant that his end would come soon. But why? He was given no time to react as his body was frozen in place both literally from the freezing of the water around him and figuratively due to his mental state. All his fragmented and frantic thoughts were silenced in an instant as the blast pierced the flesh and bone and in a flash all fell dark.

His soul would not fade so quickly and though his body would attempt to recover, the blast to his brain inevitably would be his demise. Alistair found himself falling once again into that deep dark abyss. The void which let his toxic thoughts flow freely. Now though all thoughts were silenced entirely and Alistair could only vaguely make out the semblance of a light which became dimmer and more distant with each passing minute. He could hardly hear a thing. He couldn't breathe. Was he even aware that he was dead? He couldn't be certain. All was just as well though. His last thoughts might have been how he desperately had wished for this. No one would miss him anyway right?

A man's voice pierced the numbing silence and caused Alistair to open his eyes once again. Well, perhaps not physically but spiritually. His body was still limp and lifeless after all. Did he want to live? No, not really. All this time he had suffered and now that could end. Or... perhaps...If only he could have lived a different life. If only he could have lived a life without the influence of others then perhaps he would hold a stronger desire to cling to life as any normal person would. Was that even possible though? It certainly seemed like the implications.

"I... I want to die," he responded. "As I am... I want to die. But... I want to be alive. Let my true self live on. I want to be free of this pain. I want... to be reborn, not revived." He could not tell if he was even remotely making sense or getting his point across. He could only hope the man, whoever he was, could manage to truly understand him.
 

Lady-Gothika

Member
Joined
Jan 27, 2020
Location
Fiery Pits of Mordor
Yomi mostly remained silent as he sat there with Adalric. The other seemed unbothered by his presence and with little desire to talk. It was just as well since Yomi honestly felt quite exhausted still. He was far too exhausted to have felt what had happened to. The presence of the strange man had gone utterly unnoticed ,but he should have at the very least been able to take notice of Alistair's death. He didn't however and it would be something that would plague his thoughts in the near future for quite some time.

When Ryden burst through the door, Yomi practically jumped out of his skin. He heard clearly what the other male was saying, but his brain could not even begin to adequately comprehend what it was that happened exactly or how it might have occurred. It couldn't have been the injuries could it? No. Alistair said he would heal quickly from those wounds. Then again in the state the man had been in it was quite possible that his body just couldn't handle the stress of his own wounds as well as those of his master. It could have been an attack as well, but in that case one would have to question just how an intruder could have gotten to him. Wasn't Ryden supposed to have triggered some sort of defense system?

Too many questions and no time for answers. Yomi stood and followed along with Ryden to wherever it was Alistair had been. He wouldn't even bother arguing now with any of the others considering now was most certainly not the time for that. He knew well that the others didn't trust him and they wouldn't for quite some time if ever at all. All he could do for now was try to show he was on their side and help with anything he possibly could.
 

Lo DeBale

Member
Joined
Jan 2, 2020
Johan took a moment to make sure the panacea had taken. And when Alistair's body began to mend, he smirked with satisfaction. The desires thrumming in the pretty boys heart as it began to beat once more offered an intriguing bit of insight as to what he would become once he'd awakened. But by the look of things, it would be a few minutes at least before Al came around. And in all likelihood, the man would be rather drunk from the potent spirits used to heal him when he did return to conciousness. But for Johan, that was just a happy coincidence. The taste of Balder's vessel he'd had already told Johan the man could stand to loosen up a bit after all.

Then the wine gods attention was diverted when an all too familiar face entered the poolhouse from the elevator. Upon seeing Owain, Johan quickly vanished his chalice, hiding it away with whatever sorcery it held into some unseen pocket of space and time lest his uncle's entitled and covetous nature see him try to steal the wine gods treasure away. Johan then stood with a warm smile and approached Owain rather casually, as one would an old friend. "Ah, uncle. How good it is to see you again." Johan said as he drew close only to abruptly take Owain into his arms with a fond yet forceful embrace, kissing the other male on the cheek before releasing him. Johan then stood before Owain, taking in the sight of the other male with a playful grin. It had been quite a while indeed. And while Johan wasn't particularly crazy about hades, the god of the underworld often being a bit too dour and brooding for his taste, he was still family. And a reunion was always a welcome diversion.

"It is good to see the age of the dolls has given you a much needed reprieve from minding the musty old pits of Hades. Ah, but it seems you're still sleepwalking your way through this life though. Hahaha!" Johan wrapped an arm around the other mans shoulder in a jovial and reassuring manner while patting Owain's chest with his other hand. "Dont feel bad about that though. I met uncle Poseidon just last week and he hasn't awakened in his current incarnation yet either. Father, on the other hand..." Johan trailed off, teasing a hint about Zeus' current state of being without actually divulging anything to Owain.

The wine god looked back to Al then, his panther sitting patiently by the mans side with an almost protective disposition about herself. Her master had brought that one back and she would be damned if she let any harm come to him before he fully recovered. "So... yeah. Blondie died. Died pretty hard too. Had hellfire shot through his skull." Johan pantomimed the incident with his hands and an exaggerated facial expression while making splattering sounds with his mouth to accentuate the act. "Still some cooked brains and bits of skull in the pool, too. Might wanna clean that bad boy out before your next swim heheh. He turned quickly back to Owain with an expression of faux apologetics before continuing. "Oh, my bad. You hate water, dont ya. Remind ya too much of the river styx I'll bet. Heheh, well, dont worry. Thanks to me, blondie will be just fine. Cant say the same for you, though, if we stay in this anxiety chamber for too much longer. So what's say you and I go somewhere brighter and dryer for a few drinks and catch up, eh?.... uh... by the way, what's a Yomi?"
 
Joined
Jan 4, 2019
Uncle...? There was a moment where his mind seemed to race through old and somewhat confusing thoughts, as though trying to figure out who it was that he was speaking with. Just being called uncle didn't mean a whole lot, there were a lot of children that were born of his family. It would be like trying to pull a name out of a hat.

At the mention of him being away from the 'musty old pits of Hades' he found himself nodding his head, "I am glad to be away from my duties for a while." This was why he didn't want to think too hard about things. If he did then he risked going right back to that place once more, not something he was looking forward to. He wanted to remain where he could soak up the sun.

The mention of Poseidon caused him to look a little curious, but not so much that there was much reaction. Zeus was another cause entirely, just thinking about that one sent a violent jolt through him. Turning to look over toward the overly chatty, amiable man he found himself starring a moment before muttering, "Of course that prick is out and about, causing nothing but trouble I'm sure." He'd assume that he was off sleeping around with anything that had a pulse... and if he went after someone without a pulse he wouldn't be surprised either.

Shaking his head he said, "I will do my best to avoid going anywhere near him. Thanks for the head's up that he's around."

As the conversation shifted a bit, back to Alistair, he gave a humming sound. He had been shot through the skull with hellfire? That wasn't a term that he knew very well so he'd assume it was someone outside of their Pantheon. As such his mind instantly went to Yomi... until the man next to him asked him what a Yomi was. He blinked slowly before he looked over at the chatty one again, "He's someone that reminds me a bit of myself... might be part of what I don't like about him. So it wasn't him then?" That meant that he could relax at least a bit. He was worried about that one but maybe he could look at him as more then just at threat to their group.

He felt a bit of relief flood him before he found himself backtracking a little bit, "Drinks...? It sounds nice, really nice in fact but I can't just leave. Given how the night has gone, with one of ours almost dying and then one of them actually dying, if I vanish next panic will grow. I thank you for the kind invitation though. Rain check on drinks?"

After giving the friendly one a smile he dropped his gaze down to Alistair. He'd left him behind to look after the boss man, with the others looking after Alistair, and yet someone had slipped in and killed him. They had to figure it out, what was going on, and if it was all the same group of dolls that were targeting Agamemnon and those that served him. Surely there wasn't a leak among their own people... but he would need to figure it out, right? To make sure everyone was as innocent as Yomi appeared to be. Owain's mind was whirling now.
 
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