Divorarel
Tetsue
Alucroas
EpicRoleplay
Fetzen
mattmanganon
Joshua Tamashii
Spider Pickle
ShinnyA spirit vogued mockingly through the valley of the shadow of death.
Quietness lingered after the storm. A body, like it awoken from a slumber, stood on stilettos in pitch blackness, crust-eyed, wishing to be absolved of the atrocity before them. Not quite sleepwalking, the devil witnessed it all. Usually, tranquility spoke volumes, still air whispering hope, planting seeds, foretelling the sun's arrival. It was nature's gentle way of reminding humanity that even the most tumultuous nights yield to light. In Aeternus, there was no such hope–such light. They say God is light, and in him, there is no darkness at all, but anticipating the rays of the morning to awake from *this* nightmare? One waits an eternity.
Dawn never came, and it never will.
Unlady-like, Ixxa burped an ember, wiping a morsel of blood from the corner of her mouth with her wrist. It didn't compare to what stained her dress and the rest of the room. Like a taipan, her forked tongue instinctually licked around her lipstick-smudged mouth. Around her, devastation–litters of limbs, blood seeping into the deep cracks of leather Chesterfield seats, once ornate interior cornices charred beyond recognition, and countless demons beheaded by guillotine, stretched into knots by looping torture racks. The crimson-skinned succubus stood alone in the center of it all.
Her snow blonde bed hair could have looked worse, but for the moment, looks mattered little to Ixxa. It wasn't like anyone could see her. Only her lime-green eyes stood out in the magical darkness. That begs the question though, where exactly was she? She blacked out.
A sanguine flame of zippo lighter lumified a corner of the room, evaporating the humidity of the dark mist. On top of Vincenzo's piano, Ceven sat cross-legged with a look reading business as usual.
“Eating for two now?”
Ixxa whipped her snow-blonde tresses behind her shoulder with her left hand. Slightly embarrassed, she raised her chin, running her sharp black acrylics through her hair, neck gently swaying left and right. Perhaps it was an act, but she failed to acknowledge the situation.
“I think it's time to go to the hotel. I don't suppose Nocturnelle will let us just waltz through the front door with this. Think he'll sniff out our plan?”
“He always does, but I have a feeling his hands will be tied this time around. Go on without me. I’ll have to fix up here a bit so we can open back up in an hour. We may have to sit down and try to convince him. Anyways, Vincenzo hit the music.”
On her way to the hallway, the succubus strutted past several bodies in her descent wayward down into the winding rabbit hole of the speakeasy’s backrooms. Leading to the infinitely crawling ant colony of catacombs that were Aeternus’ depths, the freshness of Aeternus’ sulfuric fumes delighted Ixxa's nostrils even down here.
It never quite made sense to the horned seductress, but who was she to complain when it could potentially smell like piss or the countless dead bodies of wanderers who dared traverse this eternal labyrinthine connecting all parts of this verse. Even now, hysterical wails diluting into whispers in the abyss tickled her sharp ears. Passing sepulcher after sepulcher, small and large, some vaulting nefarious imps, others fell titans, the deeper she traveled, the less hazy her mind became. Normally just walking between the walls felt like being wedged in between the gyri of a truly odious mind. Right now, it felt…different. The tunnels always had a mind of their own, testing wanderers' resolve through hellish standards which allowed only the most blackhearted demons to navigate with clarity.
Admittedly, she struggled most with this place out of the demonic casino quartet of Vileiro, Ceven, Parooz, and herself. It may have come from a sense of insecurity. Ceven was the treasurer of souls, Vileiro racked up souls by the second with his intergalactic chain of casinos, and Parooz, the most efficient of them all, when around, was The Big Earner managing to acquire premium souls by the boatload with get-rich schemes on a whim.
Ixxa, despite being the seductress of deviancy, the mistress of great sex, the sultan of twat — she, a renowned demon in her own right, facilitated the fitting end of too many mortals to count. Yet, her work was slighted. Souls were souls, most of the time at least, but admittedly, those who long for sexual deeds from a demon whether for an experience or to be desired understandably felt like endlessly snacking on junk food. Frankly, it was too easy but no longer would she stand in her peer's shadows.
Her trek brought her to a brightly painted door entering the wine cellar of the Pleiades Casino & Resort. Unlocking the creaky door, which gallons of WD-40 could not fix, she was alone, walking past rows upon rows of wine racks and severed claws with gnarled fingers carrying colossal vats of strange liquids. In this ashy, obsidian-bricked chamber, each bottle is sealed with a molten black wax stamped with blasphemous symbols and infernal sigils. In the center before Ixxa, a goblet of blackened crystal, filled with wine so dark it dimmed the light around it like a reverse glow. It was the succubus devil’s first time seeing it, but she was certain. This is what guided her through the catacombs. Looking up, it dwarfed her. Seldomly a red drop from the black ceiling broke the silence of the chamber and that is what guided her through the tunnels.
She kneeled, burning the sigil birth to her by the Hells on the foot of the enormous glass with the tip of her fuschia glowing nail. Standing in silence, a single blood-red drop fell from the murky expanse of the ceiling unleashing an echoing plop until the edge of the glass overflowed into a waterfall painting the dark floors a blood red. The walls around Ixxa murked, shrouding everything around the succubus until it was just her, the crystal glass, and a hazy pink sky. The river she stood in felt like being ankle-deep at the start of rapids. The feeling of an outgoing tide pulled her in by her most carnal temptations, desires, aspersions, and wishes. Yes, even demons had those. With her lime-green eyes, she made out a far more sinister pair on the other side of the glass. Even devils gulped.
“Speak Daughter.”
Quietness lingered after the storm. A body, like it awoken from a slumber, stood on stilettos in pitch blackness, crust-eyed, wishing to be absolved of the atrocity before them. Not quite sleepwalking, the devil witnessed it all. Usually, tranquility spoke volumes, still air whispering hope, planting seeds, foretelling the sun's arrival. It was nature's gentle way of reminding humanity that even the most tumultuous nights yield to light. In Aeternus, there was no such hope–such light. They say God is light, and in him, there is no darkness at all, but anticipating the rays of the morning to awake from *this* nightmare? One waits an eternity.
Dawn never came, and it never will.
Unlady-like, Ixxa burped an ember, wiping a morsel of blood from the corner of her mouth with her wrist. It didn't compare to what stained her dress and the rest of the room. Like a taipan, her forked tongue instinctually licked around her lipstick-smudged mouth. Around her, devastation–litters of limbs, blood seeping into the deep cracks of leather Chesterfield seats, once ornate interior cornices charred beyond recognition, and countless demons beheaded by guillotine, stretched into knots by looping torture racks. The crimson-skinned succubus stood alone in the center of it all.
Her snow blonde bed hair could have looked worse, but for the moment, looks mattered little to Ixxa. It wasn't like anyone could see her. Only her lime-green eyes stood out in the magical darkness. That begs the question though, where exactly was she? She blacked out.
A sanguine flame of zippo lighter lumified a corner of the room, evaporating the humidity of the dark mist. On top of Vincenzo's piano, Ceven sat cross-legged with a look reading business as usual.
“Eating for two now?”
Ixxa whipped her snow-blonde tresses behind her shoulder with her left hand. Slightly embarrassed, she raised her chin, running her sharp black acrylics through her hair, neck gently swaying left and right. Perhaps it was an act, but she failed to acknowledge the situation.
“I think it's time to go to the hotel. I don't suppose Nocturnelle will let us just waltz through the front door with this. Think he'll sniff out our plan?”
“He always does, but I have a feeling his hands will be tied this time around. Go on without me. I’ll have to fix up here a bit so we can open back up in an hour. We may have to sit down and try to convince him. Anyways, Vincenzo hit the music.”
On her way to the hallway, the succubus strutted past several bodies in her descent wayward down into the winding rabbit hole of the speakeasy’s backrooms. Leading to the infinitely crawling ant colony of catacombs that were Aeternus’ depths, the freshness of Aeternus’ sulfuric fumes delighted Ixxa's nostrils even down here.
It never quite made sense to the horned seductress, but who was she to complain when it could potentially smell like piss or the countless dead bodies of wanderers who dared traverse this eternal labyrinthine connecting all parts of this verse. Even now, hysterical wails diluting into whispers in the abyss tickled her sharp ears. Passing sepulcher after sepulcher, small and large, some vaulting nefarious imps, others fell titans, the deeper she traveled, the less hazy her mind became. Normally just walking between the walls felt like being wedged in between the gyri of a truly odious mind. Right now, it felt…different. The tunnels always had a mind of their own, testing wanderers' resolve through hellish standards which allowed only the most blackhearted demons to navigate with clarity.
Admittedly, she struggled most with this place out of the demonic casino quartet of Vileiro, Ceven, Parooz, and herself. It may have come from a sense of insecurity. Ceven was the treasurer of souls, Vileiro racked up souls by the second with his intergalactic chain of casinos, and Parooz, the most efficient of them all, when around, was The Big Earner managing to acquire premium souls by the boatload with get-rich schemes on a whim.
Ixxa, despite being the seductress of deviancy, the mistress of great sex, the sultan of twat — she, a renowned demon in her own right, facilitated the fitting end of too many mortals to count. Yet, her work was slighted. Souls were souls, most of the time at least, but admittedly, those who long for sexual deeds from a demon whether for an experience or to be desired understandably felt like endlessly snacking on junk food. Frankly, it was too easy but no longer would she stand in her peer's shadows.
Her trek brought her to a brightly painted door entering the wine cellar of the Pleiades Casino & Resort. Unlocking the creaky door, which gallons of WD-40 could not fix, she was alone, walking past rows upon rows of wine racks and severed claws with gnarled fingers carrying colossal vats of strange liquids. In this ashy, obsidian-bricked chamber, each bottle is sealed with a molten black wax stamped with blasphemous symbols and infernal sigils. In the center before Ixxa, a goblet of blackened crystal, filled with wine so dark it dimmed the light around it like a reverse glow. It was the succubus devil’s first time seeing it, but she was certain. This is what guided her through the catacombs. Looking up, it dwarfed her. Seldomly a red drop from the black ceiling broke the silence of the chamber and that is what guided her through the tunnels.
She kneeled, burning the sigil birth to her by the Hells on the foot of the enormous glass with the tip of her fuschia glowing nail. Standing in silence, a single blood-red drop fell from the murky expanse of the ceiling unleashing an echoing plop until the edge of the glass overflowed into a waterfall painting the dark floors a blood red. The walls around Ixxa murked, shrouding everything around the succubus until it was just her, the crystal glass, and a hazy pink sky. The river she stood in felt like being ankle-deep at the start of rapids. The feeling of an outgoing tide pulled her in by her most carnal temptations, desires, aspersions, and wishes. Yes, even demons had those. With her lime-green eyes, she made out a far more sinister pair on the other side of the glass. Even devils gulped.
“Speak Daughter.”
