Rockette

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

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_{DAY 1 《》 STEELWATER [Forest - Creek] 《》 Late Morning 《》 @Rockette@DeadDrop}

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Scylla is busily assessing her injuries when he approaches, thankful, genuine, his compliment awash in the lamplight of that lingering hellfire. She's never seen such conflagration bidden inside a man before and in her piercing glare she tacks the flutter of her lashes down and back up in slow increments of feminine appraisal. Lips purse over teeth, tongue flush against the bone as she sucks against their bite and says: "Yeah..." She drawls, blouse thrust up high above her navel, fingers delicately circling the bruise embossed to ivory skin. "I guess I should be thanking you, though." Scylla's eyes dart to their flank, somewhere she assumes Aaron is lingering. "I was seconds away from becoming a snack." Her other wounds have long begun to heal, her spirits coolly gliding over her arms decorated in shallow crescents and perpendicular lines. They were not healing apparitions, but rather they could soothe and seduce as the waves often bid against the shores. Carefully Scylla bent knee to the creek wherein the waters began to return, she dipped her fingers and curled against the calm surface before raking her gestures through her silver hair to assemble her braid into normalcy. She made a face at the lingering detritus of their felled beast, for even as a woman of WarDiv, she was a creature of vanity. There was a lingering affect of calm that poured through her bones, willed her movements to be almost slumberous and lax compared to their earlier urgency. She recognized it as the adrenaline sweeping away from her limbs but what remnants of their engagement fell short in light of the fires that still consumed the heavens. Arachnid gestures fell to her throat, nails pricked against the scars there and pressed to the comms: "I don't believe that's the last of our little tree and insect friends," as where one dominant creature loomed and fell, so were there many more to claim the mantle. "But," Scylla rises to her feet, scuffing her boots against the pebbles of the creek, the waters playful against her heels as she disengaged her communication with the rest. "Let's go, Flyboy. Try not to nearly take me out next time, yeah. 'Least buy me dinner first."

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

gosh y'all..

Past few days have been hell, unfortunately, but hell. But, I'm back, I'm here.

sorry. ♥

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

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_{DAY 1 《》 STEELWATER [Forest - Creek] 《》 Late Morning 《》 @Rockette@DeadDrop}

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Since the beginning - no, maybe before they landed, or perhaps long before even that - there was a roar inside her head. Betwixt her ears it rang with a defiance like none other; the champion call perchance; or the forlorn and pitied creature; the dominant beast that demanded subjugation. Such a crescendo assaulted her waking world, a screeching torrent that fused onto her throat and bade that it be heard, it slid through gnashed teeth and peeled lips as Scylla was knocked back several feet into the creek. Submerged to her knees, she thrust her lance into the rock bed to prevent herself from being completely taken by the churning whorl. Waves ebbed and flowed across her thighs, welcoming and cooling laps that stilled the moment she ghosted her palm across the surface to reestablish her balance. Across her cheek and through minuscule tears decorating the sleeves of her uniform Scylla harnessed the sting from her sudden wounds, the pain reigned as blossoms of life that anchored reality to the maelstrom of psychology that was war. Lessons taught and stilled into a child forsaken from gilded towers that once were home, to wield that fire and razor sharpness to deadly efficiency. For scant moments, Scylla counted each cut and bruise: from the rings of purpling flesh around her middle, to the meat of her palm lanced open from the impact of her bladed weapon, to the cheek that yawned upon sharp bone as her simper grew wide. It seemed to last a life time, to catalog each one, and in those moments she flitted among the flanks of battle, fingers poised and dancing through the water, caressing against the pressure as it swelled and crested upon her very touch. Spirits within coiled and rejoined her ministrations, seducing and manipulating through molecules and atoms and the symphony of their coupling a siren call. It started as a tantalizing fizz before it erupted into a boiling, writhing whirlpool with Scylla secured at its epicenter, the surging waters summoned higher and higher. And all the while, Garuda discharged from battle - her air missile impact still felt down to the foundation of bone - and then Robert [no, she thinks, Flyboy, that's right] heralded as a king of the battlefield with the swagger of a conditioned warrior. "He's going to catch us in the blast," she tore her palm away from her throat, disabling the coms brutishly. He was a sight to behold, launched into the sky, his barrier a golden lamplight and spirits a wrathful vengeance that scorched the air whilst she engaged the lands below, the waters of the creek surging away from the banks and then -- "You fucking -- " Massive globes of water floated on high, drifting around the beast that roared and flailed in pain, or perhaps in preparation for another lash of its tentacles or torrential spew. It knew where the immediate threat rose, and the heat, gods, it was unlike anything she has ever felt. Scylla knew she should flee, get away safely as it where, but within those orbs, water churned and just as suddenly as they appeared, she unleashed their manifest with an enclosed fist in tandem with Robert's molten blast. Liken to the launch of the creature's violent torrent, high emission beams of water shot through, easily surrendering through the bulbous flesh of their foe with incredible accuracy. The sound was unlike any other and the beams arched back along her beckoning calls, tearing through where Scylla could only assume its "heart" lay. "Destroy it."

Summary

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Scylla is knocked down, injured but only slight. She summons water globes and uses them to launch highly pressurized water beams at the "Scraal" in time with Robert's attacks.

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

heyhey. No closing shifts this week - yay! So, unfinished posts I've got tucked away will be done this weekend. ♥

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

It's just me and I only have the thing about wanting to fit in with the group and previous bad experiences elsewhere that has made me overthink too much for my own good.

@CosmicComet

I promise we're a lot nicer than we look.

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

leviathan.

S C Y L L A " L E V I A T H A N " F L E U R A N E

TWENTY-SEVEN. 《》 162 CM.

_{P R E S E N C E}

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Aristocracy alludes to hubris and sensuous refinement, sidled beside clandestine features stark and pallid against soot black wears from dawn to dusk. From booted feet to a delicate throat heralded with scars; cinched tight in cotton threads where ink-wisps of obsidian scales peak upon her nape, every cleft refined through persistent cardio and contortionist aptitude. Scylla's debut is an assortment; defined as both beauty and soldier, sometimes muttered as friend and foe, lover and scornful. She's a creature of ravenous qualms and careless endeavors simply because she can -- there is a void that must be fed and she is its keeper.

_{C H R O N I C L E}

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They would coin her cruel and apathetic to mortal intricacies, but Scylla is a creature of life and the luxuries of freedom. And she enjoys them to the fullest.

But, it was not always so.

Located past spires of obsidia -- an alloy later derived from cavernous mines and utilized in various forms of weaponry and armor -- towards the northern banks of Cetra lies the expanse of Tenebre: one of the last remaining city-states yonder reach of the UDF.

Within spires of black and gilded metal and stone remains the bloodline of Fleurane, a line of nobility that has flourished through the years as would-be Kings and Queens. Royalty is an archaic term coined to their renown, no less powerful in their govern and the militia they commanded when compared to other conglomerates. A prominent family, Scions of the Deep they mutter, for Tenebre has also been alleged as the resting place of an Archon: the Leviathan. Her likeness is often reflected into the architecture with a prominent use of patterned scales and iridescent blues, a myriad of wealth and color that is ever changing much like the sea. The Fleurane doctrine allies closely with the spiritual worship of the Etro, heavily endowed to the favor of their patron serpent that lies in wait -- they say -- the harbinger of storms and the wrath of the sea, blessing those descended from her spiritual manifest. Many of those living in Tenebre are spiritually inclined, the Fleurane family being the most prominent and susceptible.

During a raging storm that shook the house foundations, Scylla was born.

If only she were not the bastard daughter of Michael Fleurane perhaps a childhood rife with the need to prove oneself and a yearning to love would be exchanged for one of familial affections and endearment. Suffice to say, Scylla was not necessarily wanted, but no less needed. Michael needed an heir, a child, one his wife could not give. Scylla's birthmother was ranked into their rather infamous infantry, the class of Dragoons that Tenebre regales in obsidia armor and fitted with an arsenal of spears and lances. Inspired by the Archon slumbering in the depths of the ocean, the Dragoons were known widely for their sheer numbers and command in the vast armada Tenebre stationed out in the vast Lullin Seas: Leviathan's resting place.

Though not hers by birth, Michael's wife doted upon her, but could not bring herself to love the child with hair white as the snow that often capped the Obsidia Ridge. When she came to bear children of her own finally some years later, Scylla's sudden insurance was doubted even as she grew older, her birthmother was often permitted on leave to visit her within those gilded spires and she too feared for her place at Michael's side despite so many years warming his bed. As first born, her place was secure to a degree, but it was by the sly suggestion of the woman who partially raised her that Scylla join her mother in the legion of Dragoons. Michael did not object.

What better candidate than your own blood, my love.

It was isolation --banishment-- donned in the color of reward, to give birth to the first Fleurane child and be able to keep her though the shame of bastardization would be cloaked upon her back for eternity. But, this was also liberation, to wield the Fleurane name as she desired without the shackles of nobility. For often as a child she was subdued and inhibited, repressed with the desire to please both father and mother - maker and keeper. For two years she trained as a Dragoon, wielding lance and blade alike. Often those early days would bleed out into a monochromatic discrepancy of warriorhood, the life of routine and guardianship, eyes wed to the banks of the sea where she felt the pull of something. For often Scylla would look upon the many renditions of the Leviathan and there she would find something of admiration to the dominating force of a would-be god.

When the comet arrived, Tenebre sealed itself away further, guarded not only by mountains but by the leagues of ebonette soldiers stationed betwixt caverns and valleys, taken from the sea to push back the sudden threat of an invasion. Debris fell close enough to warrant once sea-faring soldiers to traverse ragged peaks, forming a mountainous legion as the rest of the world fell into the United Defense Force. Tenebre remained sectioned away from the world, never committing to the war effort upon pretenses of tending to their own govern - it did not go unnoticed.

As the world tended to the manifestation of esoteric flora and fauna, many corporations -even those significant as BlackRock, VanGuard, ApeX, and MonArch- suddenly appeared at the base of Obsidia Ridge, banking into the mountainside and harnessing a portion of control over the mines per a temporary peace exchange between the conglomerates and the Fleurane house. For five years this fragile peace did endure, the corporations inching ever closer year by year as the UDF began pressuring Tenebre to surrender its Dragoons to the front lines where the thickest of detritus fell and the infection with it rampaged. The factions wanted something, even going as far as to use the marine infusion reactors as a bargaining ploy to reach Tenebre's sprawling inner city, in this the Fleurane household refused to budge, but declining resources from their isolation led them to yield territory none the less.

With some of the obsidia mountains and Lullin shores now under control of the corporations, it was not much longer till the UDF managed to secure their own Dragoon's for the cause under the guise of working together to keep the factions from gaining more Tenebre territory. However, such aide was not without a price and Scylla was the immediate currency. Her manifestation of spirits did not go unheard of to the UDF, for the raging torrent of waters and wind came to her beckoning call as a storm, the well of spirits domineering with their refusal to go unseen and unheard.

For five years now Scylla has made an interesting reputation as not only an Aeon, but as an exotic front to what many people see as a different world, for Tenebre remains as independent as one can manage with both the UDF and many corporations lingering just outside its borders. As a former Dragoon Scylla was penned for the Warfare Division immediately wherein she has garnered her serpentine moniker from her battle strategies and impressive aquatic affinity and effortless reign in those depths. Superiors would call her wild and unhinged, she would rather call herself efficient. With a high deployment and success rate, Scylla has a tendency to be utilized as a solitary unit, a rather sudden change compared to years prior in working with many others.

The fact that the UDF often questions her about her home and the sea and what lies within - well, there's only so much a woman is willing to tell. For she is a Fleurane - even a forsaken one - and prideful above all else..

_{T R I V I A}

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&& Scylla is freakishly flexible.
&& Scylla also enjoys fish as a meal prepared in any fashion.
&& Upon the majority of her back Scylla has tattoos that are designed as rippling scales that even span down the back of her arms and thighs.
&& The scars on her neck are a story she refuses to tell.

_{F O R C E}

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_{water. air. dark.}
BEAM. ORB. WAVE. VORTEX. BREATH PRESERVATION. PRESSURE MANIPULATION [water.].

Scylla has always had an affinity for water, as a Fleurane this proficiency is a given attribute. Harsh spirits of air also work along side their aquatic companions, creating maelstroms of terrifying quality. The depths of sea are vast and cannot be tamed, concealing secrets and truths and lies, darkness is their herald and she their master. Over the years of applying various techniques taught by the UDF, Scylla has been able to pull moisture from the air to create globes of sorts, used in creative manners by different applications of pressure to even launch high emission beams of water capable of cutting through a vast assortment of materials. Recently she has been experimenting with the viscosity of certain liquids that are water-based in nature and formula.

Scylla can reach rather daring depths in water, her spirits working in tandem to ease the pressure off her body the deeper she goes and those of air providing her with elongated breath to breach the unseen. Suspended in any body of water, she can also bid and command her spirits to fashion whirlpools and manifest waves that crest high over friends and foes alike.

[&&] Her former years as a Dragoon -- though seemingly short -- has outfitted Scylla with an accomplished practice with both lances and spears. Before being drafted into the UDF, she was bequeathed with a unique lance that is capable of being detached for dual wielding finesse and conjoined just as easily to extend her reach. Crafted of obsidia alloy, the double bladed ends are carefully holstered on suspension units designed into her military issued attire, usually detached and within reach for her to easily reach back over her shoulders to draw them. Their connection point is held together by a simplistic locking mechanism that requires one simple twist to secure the poles in place.

Outside the means of her typical arsenal, Scylla can wield various firearms issued through the UDF. Her expertise with them varies, as it stands she has been assigned two standard service pistols and an assault rifle with a bayonet attachment.

_{F A M E}

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_HERO
It's no secret who Scylla is and where she comes from. Sometimes referred to as your highness or my lady.
A little garnish of infamy cloaks her reputation from her mission tactics and who can forget the title of bastard that canters after her shadow.

_{T R A I T S}

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_{VITALITY 》 5
PRECISION 》 20
SUPREMACY 》 20
DOMINATION 》 20
EXECUTION 》 20
DESTRUCTION 》 15}

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

@Prisk
Fancy.

The Spirits Within/Aeon

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_{DAY 1 《》 STEELWATER [Creek] 《》 Late Morning 《》 @Rockette@Archangel89}

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Entice or incite. To seduce or encourage. Both correlated within the realm of war and Scylla was the harbinger of their manifest; the general that sanctioned purring slurs and rabid bites of feral smiles. It took a little, it took a lot, but simple monikers and baited words allowed Scylla to dispatch the creatures that crowded her figure with flayed mandibles and writhing roots. She impaled, twisted, lanced and butchered; braced to her knees as Aaron performed a feat unlike anything she has ever seen. Yes, she's heard of the Zephyr, carefree and affable despite the garnish of IntDiv that cloaks him in shadows. Is he really the man he portrays, boisterous and obtuse and animated. No, Scylla could never trust him, the Leviathan refuses at that, but he served purpose here on the battlefield with that eased grin and growling timbre. "Yeah, bet..." Laughter flew across the wind, flinging themselves upon the chasms of her cavernous well of spirits that bayed in response: deep hollows in the depths of the ocean that sired power from the unknown. The creature wailed and screeched, tentacles bunched and then unfurling, grasping feebly at the swaths of light that struck from on high. A path was lain clear enough through his assault that Scylla rushed forward, arm woven around her spear once more, she charged forward and leaned into the right to direct most of her strength into her weapon's upper cut. She thrust her spear up toward that jagged mouth yawned wide in a vicious roar, aiming for the eyes that seemed to brighten in their glow the closer she came. Through masses of slick flesh, as was taught to her for years, Scylla managed to sever through planes of the creature's face and sliced across one hateful, glaring eye. Tentacles slid through her peripheral and snagged around her middle and slid across her torso, she spun her spear once to bring one bladed end down, slicing through the appendage with a grimace worn across her blood splotched cheeks. Lightning struck and the creature swarmed her, crowding her down close to the creek as she backed away step by step, her lance held across her body to block lashing tentacles. Water lapped eagerly upon her booted heels and Scylla's spirits raged in defiance to the fangs perched to tear across her face as the enemy loomed high above her crown. One knee fell, bracing for impact as she thrust her spear up once again to meet the cavernous void that rained blood and spittle down upon her. "Fuck." It was a warranted curse, the impact alone shook her down to her bones that wailed in response from the weight of the creature impaled upon her spear. The lesser creatures swarmed around the creek, close enough to become fodder to the boiling ripples that rose around Scylla: small waves that swelled upon the bank and ushered the skittering creatures back away from the research dome that now seemed for more fragile than mere minutes before.

The Spirits Within/Aeon

@Prisk
Do what you gotta do. ❤️

The Spirits Within/Aeon

Did anyone pee on the sting?

@Salsa Verde

Sure did.

While that does work meat tenderizer works just as well, so said the beach lifeguard when I cried to him that someone was gonna have to pee on me lol

@Archangel89

Wow, wish I’d known this. Now everyone thinks I’m into water sports.