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The Empress of the Underground

Alexander thought about fighting back when this creature began to uncuff him. Slam his elbow against her head, run towards the exit...

What exit? The very exit Lilith and her guard stepped through? There was no other way out. Perhaps trying to escape now wasn't the best idea.

By the time he realized this, he was hauled on his feet, his weak struggle--a flail of his free hand--barely noticeable as he was spun around and cuffed.

He cursed under his breath and hung his head, his hair sliding over his face. He knew he had made the right decision in not fighting here, but he still felt ashamed for not putting up more of a fight, like some pansy.

Alexander stumbled as he was shoved towards the door, all he could do to keep upright on his feet. His hands strained against the bindings. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice full of contempt. What sort of things did these creatures do anyway? "Don't want to keep you from whatever vile shit you're into."

The Empress of the Underground

I agree with this. Xander would see the break-in as a means of escape. He would see the creatures that break him free as lost souls, like him. He would try to seek their favor, only to realize that they aren't that great after all. However, I think he should be left in the hands of Lilith for a tiny bit first, just so that he'd have something to compare (life out in the wilds of Hell vs life locked away with Lilith). Plus I think he would need to get to know her a little better first before he escapes and eventually realizes, "She wasn't so bad after all."

I get the impression that you're seeking ideas for the immediate future of the RP? A reason for Lilith to interact with Alexander: I don't think she can force the power out of him. She needs to help him become aware of his power, then somehow teach him how to use it just enough for him to be useful to her. Right now, he can't heal anyone, including himself, at will. He needs control.

That said, what specific power does he have that Lilith needs? She does not need his ability to heal, does she? Is he a key to keep Hell locked tight and needs to mature magically before he can be effective as a "key"? Will he be the only one powerful enough to subdue the masses of Hell and make them stay put, hence the emphasis on the destructive side of his power? I could toss in a few more ideas; I'm just trying to get an idea of what Lilith will be looking for in this guy.

The Empress of the Underground

Destructive component...meaning he can potentially hurt others and/or himself with his power? If so, I have a rather cliche answer to that. If Alexander wields holy power, and if he is currently surrounded by demons, it could be safe to assume that the same holy powers that can heal himself/other humans can easily kill an unholy creature, a.k.a. a demon. This could be a good reason why Lilith would fear him--he could easily kill her if he knew he could and if he so wanted to.

However, this kinda kills your idea of Alexander healing Lilith...unless he can heal a demon in moderation. Like, a little bit of his power could heal Lilith, but using a lot of it at once could kill her. It would be like the difference between the sunlight warming one's skin and burning the ever-living hell out of it, lol. For Lilith to allow Alexander to heal her, she would have to trust him enough to know that he won't kill her with it. For Alexander to heal Lilith, he would have to have great control over his power and trust her enough to not want to kill her.

This, however, doesn't solve the issue of how to initialize trust between them. Well, already, Alexander has made the connection that his treatment as Lilith's captive is better than what his treatment would have been as a captive in Afghanistan (though that could change, lol). If she continues to treat him with reasonable civility, he'll be less guarded. However, I don't think he could begin to trust Lilith until he learns what she's all about. He'll need to discover what other demons are trying to do (run amok in the world) and that Lilith is trying to stop that. He needs to realize that her cause is actually a good thing. Until then, his focus will be on developing a plan for escape regardless of her kindness.

So, I think it's gonna be a little while before we start to see some real character development between our two characters. Alexander needs to learn what this version of Hell is all about first :)

Hope that helps with ideas? Do you prefer the destructive side of Xander's power to be more original/less cliche? If so, I can scrape together some ideas...

Vanish Into Light

I REPLIIIIIIEEEEEEEEED!!! FIIINNAAAAALLYYYYYYYYY!

I know I said I was going to reply much sooner, but I had to get through the task of rereading the RP and other things got in the way and just...GAH! In any case, I do apologize! Now that I finally broke the long hiatus, I should be good to reply much more frequently--if you're interested :) If not, I understand.

Vanish Into Light

The smell... It was enough to make Jeron's mouth water, to pull his attention away by the far less captivating human just to watch Chamera cook. Certainly, he had cooked meat and herbs together before, but there was always something about someone else cooking the food that made the scent all the more enticing. When was the last time he had a meal cooked for him? By his mother, while he was still a child, in the rare time that she wasn't too drunk to cook. Otherwise, he had learned to prepare his own meals.

Jeron forced himself to look away, realizing that he had halfway expected Chamera to share her meal. How foolish. He could not allow himself to grow dependent on her beyond their agreement. So he resumed his search for a far less appetizing meal, though the act of pushing through weeds and peering into the shadows of the grasses seemed more an arduous task despite him knowing every herb by heart and how to look for them. Damn that smell. Damn that food. Damn Chamera.

He nearly jumped when she spoke, not because she had said something but because of what she had said. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze pinned to the food. He opened his mouth to refuse, reminding himself that he must not be dependent on...

She offered. Why not?

Jeron stepped back into the light of the campfire and accepted the little pot of food...and the fork. He frowned as he stared at the utensil. He hadn't used one since his mother died and he had abandoned the pathetic hut he had called home, a hut that had burned to ashes along with his mother. He felt tempted to drop the fork, knowing that eating with his hands was more efficient; he had been doing it for years. However, he knew enough about humans and the like to know that eating without a utensil was considered wrong and uncivilized, and he didn't want to give Chamera any more reason to think him a filthy, savage Drow than she already did. So he sat down to his meal, staring at the contents in concentration, and ate with the fork.

Jeron shoveled the food in his mouth. By his standards, he was eating slowly, far more so than he would have with his hands. The meal wasn't gourmet by any means--not that he would know what a gourmet meal tasted like--but Jeron still found it tasty. He surprised himself by releasing a little groan of delight upon the first bite of food; to him, it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He made sure to not make any more noises as he ate, but his eating did slow, Jeron finding himself enjoying the food instead of eating it just for the sake of filling his belly like some animal. When was the last time he had enjoyed a meal? With Maura, when she had brought him little sandwiches to sample or fruit to try, whatever a little girl could stow away from her home without her family noticing.

Tears welled in Jeron's eyes. He turned away with alarm as he continued to eat, his back to Chamera, and hastily wiped away the tears with the back of a hand. It had been years since he had cried, so he couldn't understand what had brought up such emotion now. He began to understand why humans found the act of eating such an emotional experience.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Bah. Curdle is a very unique character, one of the most original I've encountered in RP. Not every day someone's willing to RP an old dude and make it interesting. You have a talent for characterization :)

The Empress of the Underground

Of course, Alexander struggled when his hand was seized, but the creature's grip was like iron, unyielding, like him trying to pull at a steel post that would not budge. He winced as his hand disappeared inside the strange mitt, expecting his fingers to be shoved into needles or dipped in acid or assaulted by the painful, poisonous stings of a thousand ants from Africa like in that documentary he had seen recently while bored and down on his luck at home...

OK, his imagination was getting the best of him, but it was impossible not to think the of outrageous, the outlandish, and the positively crazy when he was in a place such as this.

It was almost worse that no pain accompanied the imprisonment of his hands, as though this small act of mercy meant he would endure much more in the near future.

Still, Lilith wasn't being entirely unreasonable. She and her minions hadn't hurt him yet. If this was Hell, Afghanistan had been something far, far worse...

He blinked, realizing how lucid he was being. Something like this should have more than triggered his PTSD by now. He should be beside himself in anxiety, delirious in stress, and completely overtaken by the lingering emotions of that terrible past, yet here he was, considering the words of a demon in this strange place where no one would save him.

No one had bothered to save him at home when they had access to. Alexander realized that if he was going to escape this place and live to tell about it, he had to save himself. That meant he needed information.

He turned and faced Lilith directly, legs shoulder-width apart, arms in front, back straight, chin up, gaze direct, though he really wanted to piss his pants in fear of how crazy and risky and dangerous this all was. "Clear enough, I guess," he said in response to her question. "You said you needed me for something." He could not entirely shake the fear in his voice, though he made a valiant effort. He tossed his head in an attempt to move the hair out of his eyes. "What is it?" By the life of him, he couldn't remember every detail of her ramblings up in the surface, the whole ordeal one big, bizarre blur. "Are there others like me down here, too?" More questions threatened to tumble out of him, but he bit his tongue, holding back. He needed to be patient. Besides, Lilith wasn't really good at answering questions thus far, in his opinion.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

I thought your last post is very fascinating! Curdle is a very fascinating character, and I like how you revealed so much about him yet he is still such a mystery. Like Miria, I'm very curious about his relationship with his late master :)

I made up stuff about Sherahd--hope you don't mind.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Despite her history with the jinn, Miria did not know about their customs, their thinking, their way of life. Tamal had been so secretive about it all, preferring to keep details of himself in the here and now. After she had learned what kind of person he really was, Miria had wondered if knowing more about his background and his culture would have allowed her to spot the red flags she had missed in her blind devotion to him.

This time, she would not be so foolish, but her lack of detailed knowledge about the jinn meant that Curdle's reaction to his own response confused her. He seemed repulsed by his own answer, as though he had said something offensive. What was so regretful about what he had said? She thought it sad that he and his brothers had taken on such ugly names, but it unsurprising now knowing that he was from Sherahd, a place known for its harshness of the jinn it harbored. She had been there many times before, Sherahd a jewel for any traveling merchant. Almost bloated in its own wealth, the city served trade from land and sea alike. It was also a heavily guarded place, the best soldiers always coming from there. That would explain the appearance of Curdle's sword, which lead Miria to assume that he was, or had been, a very skilled fighter. But was this something to be ashamed of?

Curdle had also mentioned his master--he had been serving her for a very long time, since her marriage. For him to survive with the same master for so many years meant that she treated him at least halfway decently--it wasn't too common to see a jinni as old as Curdle. It also meant that he harbored no ill will towards his master, at least not in the end, unless she had been very good at keeping him under control. Miria carefully studied Curdle as she moved to sit down on the ground. He didn't look broken and abused. In fact, he could probably stand to live a couple more decades in his current condition. Then again, this was a dream; he was probably worse for wear than he currently seemed. Curious that he hadn't taken on a strong, youthful, more intimidating appearance.

But why the strange reaction?

Miria canted her head to the side, forgetting that she was supposed to be seeking information about this strange connection she currently shared with the jinni. "Is it wrong for you to care for your master, a married woman?" she asked as she tried to piece together the mystery that was Curdle. "It must be her ashes that you have decided to burden me with." If this was true, that meant that Curdle cared for his master very much, which made Firra Gerun a very foolish woman...or damn lucky.

The Empress of the Underground

Seeing the smug look on everyone's faces only frightened and infuriated Alexander more. These creatures near the woman looked like the stuff of nightmares. This place wasn't anything he could even imagine on his own. And the way this bitch talked to her...

Answered his own question? His mind reeling, Alexander retraced his words. What the fuck was she--

Oh.

All color drained from his face.

"I really have died and gone to Hell," he whispered, anger leaving him. He began to tremble as he glanced around. The strangeness of the place made much more sense knowing that he was in Hell, but... "I thought there would be more...fire," he said weakly as he felt his stomach begin to churn. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting on his lap, realizing with dismay that he could still vomit in Hell, and know real despair. Well, of course. "A-and I thought the ruler of this place was a man. Lucifer, not Lilith." Why couldn't he shut up? It wasn't like him to talk on and on like this, normally the quiet one in the room. However, he had no other defense or way to cope at this point than through words, considering that he was strapped to the chair and at the mercy of these hellish creatures. "Though Lilith was a demon, if I recall..." He struggled to grasp the details of what he could remember about the character Lilith, unable to even process her mention of this millennium-light-bearer-whatever. He'd be less dense if not for the fact that he was still trying to cope with the reality that he was in Hell.