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Post by Cella on Feb 20, 2006 19:14:03 GMT -5
A small figure walked the line just on the outside of the graveyard, the day was over, she had spent her hours at t he hospital during the daylight hours, helping Faust with various duties, caring for the ill or injured, it had been a rather slow day, thankfully. She pulled her cloak now about her small form, her lavender eyes peering out over the many graves before she came to the gates.
She reached out a slender hand and pushed them open, the wrought-iron gate not creaking under the use, as it was always so cared for by the groundskeeper, it never was given the chance to rust as so many of these pieces do in so many other graveyards. She stepped forward, the cloak about her ankles billowed out slightly as she stepped forward, a small wind having taken in its grasp and moving it about as if trying to pull the small girl backwards, back into the path that lead her to the graves of the fallen citizens of Karador.
Cella had a reason for visiting the graves this evening, and it was to once again, though futile, as always, try and find an answer to the disappearance of her father, this being the last place he had been seen, and she thought perhaps, now that she had met the Necromancer personally, he still might hold a key to what had happened to him, though still, at the same time, she figured as well, if he had, had a hand in the death of her father, then he more than likely wouldn’t even know.
She moved forward now, the sun slipping slowly behind the mountain in the west, her steps upon the nicely kept ground making no tracks or even mussing with the trail that she followed. She shivered once, pulling her cloak about her a bit tighter, rather it was from the growing chill in the winters air, or a slight sense of fear, she couldn’t tell, just yet.
Her eyes swept the headstones of the fallen, though not reading their names, too many to count, too many for her to want to remember. Her long fiery locks hidden beneath her hood now began as well to shift and sift out from the sides to breath the evenings air, every now and again blowing in that small wind to cross over her lips, only to be pushed back again with a small hand.
What am I doing here? she mused to herself, her mind seemingly telling her to question her actions.
who am I? this comment whispered in the cool air, coming from frowning lips, as her mind now seemed to race backwards to the night not all too long ago in the hospital when she had faced the Necromancer and lived, somehow.
She still had a great many questions, ones she would confront her mother with at some point, just, she knew, in her heart, that perhaps what she believed to be her mother, may not have been as such, not now, not since things have been happening to her that were of the oddest happening. Things like her abilities to not breath for many long moments, though this, she never tested too far, always afraid she’d pass out at the wrong moment, things such as her ability to see things happening all over, all at once, from the things in front of her eyes, to the back rooms of the hospital, things that seemed to happen before they did… it was all too con fusing for the young nurse of Karador, her eyes, why were they the color they were? No human she knew of possessed such color, and she was beginning to think, despite her mother’s refusal to admit it, she was not human after all. But if this was the case, then what was she and why did her mother protect her from knowing, and why had the Necromancer seemed to know something about her when he had not ever seen her before that night.
She had so many questions, and none of them answered, so many thoughts, and though she hated the ground, the air and all else about the man who had killed so many she tried so hard to save, she too knew, she needed him to find many, if not all those answers.
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Post by Decimas on Feb 26, 2006 1:26:41 GMT -5
The streets outside the city were dark at night, with only the shine of the moon and stars above to light them up. A small figure moved along the path to the Karador cemetary up ahead as seen by the necromancer walking far behind her as he made his way down the road himself. He had spent that day out in the city, taking care of some chores he had to accomplish there. The curfew on the city gates made it difficult for him to access the city for his work, or rather, made it more inconvenient, making him have to travel without the cover of darkness. He did so hate the daylight. It always seemed so unnecessarily bright and cheery to him, and the light of the sun seemed to hurt his eyes, even made them water sometimes, especially in the last few years, he noticed it getting worse.
The one hour before sunset curfew at the city gates also made Decimas wonder about the girl making her way to the graveyard after dark. She obviously had to have left the city before the gates closed for the night, just as he had had to do himself. But she obviously knew too, that she wouldn’t be going back in until the morning. That little nurse was getting more and more daring, it seemed, as time went by. He hadnt seen her since that night in the hospital, and what a glorious night that was. He even smiled then, at the thought of that night, but then continued to think again about how peculiarily forward the young thing was being, walking into the haunted graveyard in the middle of the night with no way of getting back into the city. He knew it was her, that it was Cella, the nurse from the city hospital, the girl he traumatised that night, the girl that had the gaul to stand up to him. He could sense it was her, of course, he could feel their connection, the link he knew he should have have with her, with the unchained.
As aprehensive he was about the whole scenario that night, about her becoming more and more daring, even so much as to walk into his graveyard, though he was fairly certain she wouldnthave known it was where he lived, he still couldn’t help but be almost excited about getting to see her again, to talk to her again. He knew there was something he needed to know about her, something he needed to figure out. He wanted so desperately to find out what it was that the necromancers of old held over the unchained that allowed them to use them as they did. He wanted to be able to use the unchained just as they did all those years ago. This girl, Cella, seemed to be the perfect means for him to find out. This was one of those times where better judgement may have pulled him away, if it werent for his curiousity and arrogance. He did always seem to get the better of himself, and he always hoped it wouldn’t bite him in the ass, as he always knew it could. Decimas almost admired himself though, for taking the chances he did, for reaching out in ways. Better judgement, as his old master had called it, was what Decimas always thought held the old necromancer back, whereas curiosity and the courage to let it take over at times, was what Decimas believed would pull him ahead in many ways. It was afterall, the only attribute that would gain him the secret of the unchained.
By the time Decimas reached the great gates of the cemetary, the girl was well within the graveyard and seemed to be looking about at the countless tombs that filled the yards. Those headstones reached out across the field as far as the eyes could see, even in the daylight, and with the best of eyes. Decimas himself didn’t even know exactly how many there were, though that nuisance of a gravekeeper probably did. Afterall, that ghost had been there for hundreds of years and has probably had the time to count the headstones countless times throughout the ages. Decimas stood and leaned against the gates that were still open since Cella never did swing them back shut. He waited for a few moments, thinking on why she might be there, and on what he may say to her, what she may say to him, as well as giving her a little time to move about within the cemetary, and himself, a little more time to observe her. He did have some better judgement afterall, as it seemed.
He looked up at the two large pillars, those almost tower like structures that were on either sie of the front gates, and wondered as he did, where those stupid creatures were, those damned gargoyles. He wondered what Ashard’s annoying pets were doing at the time, and if he and Cella would ever see them that night. He kinda wondered what Cella’s reaction would be to them if they did, wondered just how daring she had become. It was a very large cemetary though, and those stone beasts definitely had more than enough space to play in, as the ghost called what they did at night, and in all probability, the girl wouldn’t even be alerted of their presence there.
After waiting for a few moments, Decimas finally stood up straight and pulled his hood back over his head. He wouldn’t have to do too much tricking to cover his face, what with there not being any lights in the cemetary anyways. He walked into the graveyard and pushed the big gates closed behind himself, even purposely making noise as he swung them shut and clicked them together. He even looked over at the girl in the field of tombstones for a second before setting in place the bar that crossed the two gates locking them together. After standing there against the then closed and locked gates for only a few moments, Decimas turned again to face into the graveyard, to face the girl, and started on his way to meet her.
With that deviously confident grin of his on his face, he strode casually up to where Cella was, walking much faster though than she was, to catch up to her. “Vires totus peius cado letaliter sic , vires totus infirmus nunc intereo de is. Vires vita solvo suus habitum in lemma ut nex vires prene suus toll.” He said as he neared her, “Youremember these words, don’t you?” he asked, smiling at her, though she surely wouldn’t be able to see the smile. “Sino spiritus labor lapsus ex lemma , ut ego vires tribuo lemma vita in nex.” He continued, and chuckled just a bit. “Surely you havent forgotten that night.” He mocked, coming ever closer to the young thing. “sic hic ego iacio meus directus mos ut totus illud hic is nox noctis vires cado ex vita quod orior oriri ortus iterum ut poenanon virs de stipes excessum.” He stopped only steps away from her, as he stood and looked down at her. “Do I get a hello?”
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Post by Cella on Feb 26, 2006 2:52:07 GMT -5
Cella heard the clink of the gate as it shut, with some force, behind her, making her body tense all the more and her hands tighten on the sides of her cloak in response, though she did not turn around. The finality of the gate closing behind her as well, reminded the small girl just how stupid she had been, coming down here so late, she was forced to now look at her situation with a bit more seriousness than before, in short, she had resolved that she would not be returning to the safety of the city, nor would she be sleeping in her bed this night. Her feet seemed to slow, even hesitate slightly before she was once again able to move them forward with a resolve that took quite some courage, for at this point, she had become a bit more jumpy perhaps than was necessary, but visions had begun to play in her mind again, things she didn’t want to remember, but seemed forced to all the same, again and again.
She now looked about the graveyard, her lavender gaze falling on a headstone, one that had its name erased, obviously a very old resting place when she heard his voice. At first, she thought it was all in her mind again, but then, she realized the presence behind her and her feet stopped, refusing to move her body forward another step as she froze almost completely, both unable to turn around, as well as unable to breath, her lungs seemingly paralyzed along with the rest of her. In her mind however, she saw him standing just at her back, saw the same hooded figure that had taken near everything from her, had indeed, changed her life perhaps on what had seemed the longest most dreadful night of the girls life. Now however, with the thoughts of earlier combined with the fact that she would now be in the Necromancers presence again, Cella began to shiver slightly, though suddenly found it in herself to turn around and back away from the one man she feared more than any, but at the same time, was tied to in ways she could not explain.
A few more moments passed and she still hadn’t answered him, a slight breeze blew between the two as they looked at one another, tossing the hem of her cloak about in its cool fingers as her own now seemed to loosen from the edges of her garment to follow her hands as they fell numbly at her sides.
Cella swallowed hard, her lavender eyes blinked twice when she finally managed to find her voice. “Hello.” She said so quietly, he would have been hard pressed to hear.
Their meeting before, she had been angry, able to stave off her fear due to what he had done, this time, all she could remember was the way he made her feel, as well as those terrible words he just spoke to her again. “Yes… I remember all too well.” She went on, her voice strengthening a bit now, her hand moving up involuntarily to touch the small scare that resided at the bottom of her throat, her index finger traversing the raised path before she one gain dropped her hand numbly to her side.
She wanted to scream at him, yell at him, beat him with her tiny fists, but she was too scared to move still, to frightened of this man who remained cloaked and hidden under his hood though now, she remembered his lips as they cruelly smiled at her on that night and her hand moved to touch her own as the picture seared through her mind, only to, once again, drop numbly to her sides. Another flash of memory and her hand twitched as if remembering something else, her entire body then shivered as a cold chill ran through her spine, her eyes traveling to his hands and then back again to peer hopelessly inside that damned shadowed hood.
“What is it you want?” She asked then, almost in a hypnotic tone, as if her mind was shut off, and it was an animated being with no soul talking to the Necromancer, Cella seeming far away, perhaps still drawing back to that night.
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Post by Decimas on Mar 4, 2006 1:11:07 GMT -5
The necromancer watched the girl as she stopped walking, seemingly frozen in place, and then as she turned to face him, his eyes completely fixed on her. Decimas grinned sadistically at the thought of it all, of having her so under his thumb, as it were. Just as he had done on their last meeting, Decimas lightened the unnatural shading under his hood for a few moments, but only enough for her to see the shape of his lips and a slight tint of his eyes as he peered out at her from under his big black hood.
He could barely even hear her say it, but he did manage to catch the little ‘hello’ in that quiet fearfull voice from the delicate looking form of the small girl and his grin widened as he realised that he got a greeting out of this girl that despised him as sure as the sun was hot. He started to wonder if she even made the concious choice to speak that word to him, to say hello, or if he had made her do it by some means he didn’t understand. By the time he took in a breath and squinted his eyes as he thought about it for a moment, the shade under the hood of his cloak had increased again, making no more or less than complete darkness beneath that hood of his.
Not wanting to be presumptious about it yet, Decimas didn’t say a word about it, but rather started to walk towards her again, matching those backward steps she had taken to get away from him moments before. He almost hesitated as she spoke again, but managed to shake it off with no more than a blink that she couldn’t see and a brief pause in his breath. The girl seemed so distant, so faded, so lost. Her voice was dazed, near hypnotic and he wondered even more about what was going on with her. “I want it all, Cella.” He replied confidently, easily covering up his curiosity. “I want the world and I want you to help me take it.”
He didn’t stop walking until he was directly infront of her, his toes only and inch away from hers and he peered down at her, his face so very close to hers. Decimas took in a deep breath, smelling the young thing as if he could smell fear as she stood right there infront of him; as cocky as he was. “Could you,,, do that for me?” he said quietly, almost whispered into her ear as he leaned his head in next to hers.
As presumptious as it was of him to go right out and ask her, trying to asses this effect he seemed to have on her, he wanted to figure it out, he had to figure it out. Fortune favors the bold, after all, and he did intend to have good fortune. The unchained were created for the use of the necromancers in the first place, they were tools, and he planned to use them.
Moving his head back slowly, Decimas trailed his breath along the side of her neck, up her jaw and across her cheek as he licked his lips only inches from her face and finally stared her in the eyes as he finally backed his head away from hers. “Walk with me, will you?” he asked confidently, testing the waters, so to say, and started to slowly back away from her and started to turn slightly to walk the other way but still faced her the whole time and held one hand out to her as he started to get farther away.
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Post by Cella on Mar 4, 2006 2:25:13 GMT -5
Cella remained rooted to the spot as the Necromancer advanced on her yet again, just as he had in the hospital, and yet again, she found that she couldn’t move, her entire body began to shake all the more, though this time, it wasn’t in anger, but fear, total fear of what this man was capable of doing to her. As well, she feared the way he made her feel, as if she wasn’t there, as if his presence somehow seemed to almost override her very mind, her very will, almost. Once again, she swallowed, her mouth so dry that it hurt her throat to make the action complete, though she did all the same. Her breathing still hadn’t returned, though she didn’t even realize she didn’t breath, she hadn’t from the time he first approached her.
She found herself unable to retort to his statement of his wanting her to help him in his asinine and most horrid idea of what his taking over the world would mean, at least, for the moment as he now stopped, directly in front of her, mere inches from her small, trembling body. Her lavender gaze looked up at him, peering into the deadness of the shadowed hood that seemed to be part of her days as well, her most darkened nights. Once again, she was allowed to have a glimpse of his lips as he spoke to her in his dark voice, as well, she was, though most unwanted, allowed to gaze at his eyes, not entirely, just a lighting of the shadows, not near enough to make them out to perfection, though she felt, she didn’t want to, and she stood, frozen, as if a mouse in fear of the cat about to attack and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She felt his hot breath against her smooth skin and it sent chills down her spine as well created a sort of knot in her stomach that threatened to make her wretch, as he spread his breath along her neck and her cheek. The moment his breath washed over her throat, there appeared again the same, almost snake-like tendrils of darkness that worked under her flesh and reopened the scar, the only scare on this small girls body. The darkness left there from the sword she herself had pricked herself with upon their first meeting now making the wound fresh again and it began to bleed, though most unnoticed by Cella, he was certain to catch glimpse of it.
She could see him lick his lips, even if she wasn’t looking, her mind showed her and she closed her eyes to control the sickening feel that continued to well inside her gut. “Why would I help you take over the world?” She asked, her voice still seemingly distant. “Tell me why, why do you want me to help you?” She asked with no real conviction, her mind suppressing emotion, as if cutting off any form of personality that was there, the only things left were curiosity as well as a deep fear, all else in the young girl was numbed, cut off suddenly, and once again, though her mind screamed and screamed at her to not listen, she couldn’t help herself, she almost felt as though she had to, had no choice.
“Will you tell me why? I know you know, and I know I am not what I think…” She started and then stopped, as he stepped back from her, her lavender gaze following him. “I will listen to you, just help me.” She almost pleaded, her mind telling her that she needed to talk, to question, to keep talking, to keep herself on track as to what she wanted in this meeting, and then she blanked again, she told him she would listen, should she? A voice in the back of her mind was trying once again to tell her to run, to blank out what he was telling her, to stop listening but her will to find out what she was seemed to be her undoing for the moment, and she didn’t head the warning.
She shook her head as he held his hand out, wanted to refuse his gesture, refuse to go with him further into the darkness of the graveyard, but as she shook her head no, her hand came up and laid itself in his, the small fingers closing about the Necromancers palm and her feet moved, one and then the next, until she found, despite her objection, she was now beside him, walking in the direction he had chosen, to her surprise, and horror as well, her hand in his, as if they were best of friends out for a nights walk amongst the deadness of the graveyard.
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Post by Decimas on Mar 4, 2006 23:24:00 GMT -5
Decimas noticed the dark tendrils of unnatural forces creeping up from under the skin of Cellas neck, and was taken aback wondering about the effects of such a hazard on the girl. He had never seen the darkness left behind from his sword creep back up in a person, never seen his effects leave and return without further agitation. He wasn’t sure wether to be worried or be pleased. Would the residual effect of the darkness in his sword give him a stronger influence on her, or would it draw away from the powers he could tap? He certainly wondered, and didn’t want to make a conclusion about it, but he didn’t let his surprise and his curiosity show in his movements or in his manners. He didn’t want to seem uncomfortable or like he was in over his head.
Letting his wonderment on the matter slip to the back of his mind for a while, Decimas closed his hand around hers when she took the hand he had held out to her and then finished turning to walk side by side with the girl deeper into the darkness of the graveyard. Her taking his hand, accepting his request to walk with him, and wanting to talk with him was definitely a step in the right direction. He still couldn’t be sure of his influence though, still couldn’t be sure what was making her do it. He realised that she had questions and seemed to very much want them answered, but he also couldn’t help but notice how distant the girl behind the voice seemed to be, how mindlessly she seemed to follow his commands.
“You know you aren’t what you think you are, but what else could you be?” he said more than asked as he turned his head to face her while walking, his own face still shaded in too much darkness to be seen. “You arent like other girls Cella,” he continued, with a smile on his face that she couldn’t see. “you’re much much more.” He paused for a moment and looked down at her little hand inside his own and lifted both their hands up to chest level in front of them, as he continued to look at her hand. “Why do you listen to me Cella?” he asked calmly, “Why did you say hello to me? Why did you take my hand and walk with me?”
He lowered his hand again, still holding hers and continued to hold her hand comfortably in his own as they continued to walk farther and farther into the cemetary. “I know you don’t look up to me or in any way like me. Haven’t you guessed that there’s something between us? Haven’t you realised that you’re drawn to me?” He turned his head again to look at her for a moment before looking ahead again. “You were made for me, but of course your parents couldn’t have told you that, they couldn’t have known. That’s why I want you to help me Cella, because you can.”
Decimas didn’t want to tell her truly what she was, he didn’t want to let her know how strong she was, how powerful. He still didn’t know how to use her, how to control her and if she knew what she could do, he was certain her hatred for him and what he did would surely press past what influence he seemed to naturally have over her and his curiosity wouldhave ended him. He definitely didn’t mean for his own destined puppet to take his life, nor for anyone to take his life, for that matter. He only hoped that he wasn’t treading the ice too thin, that he wasn’t getting in over his head and losing control. This was something where he had to realise that this ‘better judgement’ his old master had always preached and practiced had to come into play. The old man had had a point as it tunred out, and Decimas had to acknowledge that, even as bold as he himself liked to be.
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Post by Cella on Mar 5, 2006 0:41:17 GMT -5
His answer to her questions flashed a momentary spark of annoyance when he responded to her questions with questions, her hand twitched inside his as they walked during this brief aggravation though that was the only sign that she was aggravated at all, as she remained quiet, as he continued to speak, now holding her hand up in front of them, as they continued to walk, he further questioned her, though this time, she allowed his questions, welcomed them, as they seemed to meet a certain end, one in the direction of where she wished to be, as well, his voice seemed so claming, so soothing, making what would have been her usual fiery red-headedness melt away to near nothing.
She now took everything he had asked and everything he had said and mulled it over in her mind as they continued to walk the path leading into the abyss of what seemed a forever deadness, gravestone after gravestone passed them by in their walk, each one going unnoticed by the small nurse, as, like before in the hospital, nothing but he Necromancer seemed to matter to her, the objects in her outer vision all blurred past, as if in some obscured painting, a sort of surreal background, even the weather seemed to make no difference any longer, she had stopped shaking, though still felt as though she should be afraid, she somehow wasn’t any longer, his continued talking, the voice, that voice of his, why was it so alluring, why was she drawn to him? That was one of his questions; didn’t she realize she was drawn to him? “Yes, I know I am drawn to you, but why? I don’t understand.” She asked and then stated though she did not wait for an answer, her mind moving forward giving her little chance to think much more, only on what he had asked, only answer him . the echo in her mind was saying now, and so, that is what she did. “But what is between you and I, no, I shouldn’t want to be here with you, no I don’t want to be but then…” She paused and looked over at him through confused lavender eyes. “I feel I need to be, I want to be, you have my answers Necromancer, and I need you.” She continued, her mind starting to scream at her again to shut up, only answer his questions, nothing more. “I said hello because you asked me to.” She now stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he was blind if he didn’t see it. She continued to gaze at him, not looking to where they were going, putting her trust in him? “I didn’t want to take your hand, you made me take it, didn’t you?” She stated and then asked, still her gaze fully on him, her feet moving in step with his own, as if copying his every move.
Cella was quiet again, her gaze now moving forward, looking in the direction they walked, though seeing nothing, her lavender orbs, once brilliantly shining with fear, now slightly glazed and dull. The blood from the cut in her throat seeping through her robe now, making a crimson spot in the middle of the fabric about her collarbone. The shadowy death that surprised the Necromancer still dancing about under her pale skin, reaching upwards towards her head but recoiling the moment it drew too near. Cella reached up, suddenly feeling the sting of the cut, with her free hand and then drawing it away she looked down at her bloodied fingers. “I’m bleeding.” She commented, with a quizzical sort of look on her face, but then simply dropped her hand back to her side and thought nothing more on it.
They walked still forward, and Cella again looked over at the Necromancer. “How was I made for you?” She asked then to his statement, her mind still working, stumbling over what to ask and what to reply to, though it seemed to urge her on to ask this question, and the next set as well. “But how could I help you? I know nothing of war or creating unlife from death.” She went on in that same, hypnotic, dream-like, way she’d been speaking the entire time. “Are my parents really my parents? Did you kill my father?” She finished her line of questions and answers finally, her hand still clasped lightly in his own, her small fingers unmoving beneath his, her breath just as still as it had been, the only change was in her eyes, as to how they had glazed slightly over and the shadowy substance, that seemed to continue to try and take over her body, but was somehow forced to remain where it was, as if trapped where it had begun.
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Post by Decimas on Mar 7, 2006 2:15:22 GMT -5
“There’s something more in you than the little girl you’re used to Cella.” Decimas said calmly, casually, not even looking back at her but still forward where they were walking. He had to choose his words carefully, but he couldn’t let her see him think too much. He knew he was treading a fine line and wasn’t sure exactly where it was, wasn’t sure how far he could go. “Theres something stronger in you than the daughter your parents raised.” He continued saying as they continued walking deeper and deeper into the graveyard that never seemed to end and then he did turn his head to face her as he spoke some more, though his face was still covered in that unnatural shadow under the hood of his cloak. He didn’t really have to look where he was going, he knew the place so well.
“Theres something in you talking to you, isn’t there?” he said, continuing to look at her, continuing to walk holding her hand in his. “Theres something in you telling you I’m right, isn’t there? Listen to yourself Cella.” He completely avoided the topic of why and how. Her first question of the set was more than he could answer. He was still trying to figure it all out himself and the truth was that he simply didn’t know. The necromancers had lost the knowledge long ago and there was nothing past down to explain any of it. Decimas had to find out for himself by investigating and putting everything together. He knew he’d have to catch all the signs to figure it out, and he knew he was obviously still missing a variable somewhere in the equation. He didn’t want to be wrong or premature on an assumption, he couldn’t afford to be, and so despite his self typical impatience was ready to take this one slow and steady to get it right.
He was glad to understand he was atleast going the right way with it all, knowing he definitely had some controlling effect even if he still didn’t know what it involved. She asked about taking his hand and he smiled, realising that he was right about it. He hoped he was, that was why he reached his hand out for her to take in the first place. He wanted to start small, trying little things to see if he could, to see how it worked. He got her to say hello and he got her to take his hand, but he still wasn’t even sure how he did it. Was it simply because he asked, he wondered, simply because he offered? Even if it was, that obviously couldn’t take him all too far, asking had to have its limits. “Yes,” he said finally, after a momentary hesitation within which he had done a lot of thinking. “I did want you to take my hand, I still want you to hold it.” Decimas looked her in the eyes and paused again for a slight moment before continuing. “And it would seem that so do you, or something in you is listening atleast, that part of you that’s talking to you, that part of you that’s stronger, that you need to listen to.”
The necromancer made absolutely no comment to her realising that she was bleeding from the neck again. Atleast she didn’t seem to notice the darkness left from his sword. When she commented on it though, he did start to wonder, and as she touched her wound and looked at her bloodied fingers, he looked too, though she wouldn’t be able to see that he was watching. Decimas knew the importance of blood to a vampire, knew the significance and so ha to wonder about how much blood would mean to the unchained. After looking at the wound for a moment, and then her bloodied fingers for a moment, Decimas raised his free hand and lightly touched his fingers to her wound, gently wiping up some of her blood onto his own fingers and brought his hand infront of himself to look and wonder some more. Thinking again about how peculiar it was that that darkness had resurfaced in her wound, Decimas wondered even more. There had to be something significant about her blood, something different about the way she reacted to the forces in his sword.
“A hammer doesn’t know anything about construction either my dear.” He spoke half dazed himself, still thinking about her blood, still wondering what that variable could be. “Or about wood and nails. But a carpenter still makes good use of it for doing his job.” It wasn’t usually his style to use metaphors, but he really couldn’t think of any other way to reply to her question without giving too much away too early in time. “If I did kill your father Cella, I probably wouldn’t remember, let alone know the difference between him and any other man I killed.” He sounded a little more lively then, trying to shake his distraction but still couldn’t help but think on it all anyways. He didn’t actually want to stop thinking about it, just wanted to sound more sure of himself.
“You said you’ll listen to me Cella,” he said after another pause as he thought some more. “You said you need me. Tell me you’ll help me.” He continued, and turned his head again to face her once more. “Tell me you’ll do what I ask, what I say.” He thought that maybe if he could get her to say that, if he could get her to give him her loyalty, her servitude, as it were, if he could get her to agree to follow him, that maybe he could widen that window of where asking and telling would hold sway on her. Maybe if she agreed, gave in and decided for herself to listen, he would have more control. It certainly couldn’t hurt his efforts to try. “Listen to that stronger part of yourself Cella, and I’ll help you find your answers.”
He really hoped he was onto something there, but still realised he was surely still missing a variable. He wasn’t sure still, what to think of the blood, of the wound, of the darkness that re emerged in the girl, but had to simply keep thinking on it as they continued further and further into the seemingly endless depths of the cemetary.
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Post by Cella on Mar 7, 2006 3:32:24 GMT -5
Her fingers tightened about his hand slightly as he touched her throat, her eyes watched as he drew away with her blood on his digits. He didn’t seem to be alarmed though, and so, she made no further action as to be as such either. Her eyes turned back to the front again as she continued to listen to him, all the while her mind telling her to question, to seek her answers but, he was telling her to listen to that other voice, the one allowing her peace, the one that wanted her to listen to him. She was in turmoil, her mind fighting a battle inside the likes the Necromancer next to her, manipulating and twisting her thoughts could not possibly imagine. “How did you know I questioned myself?” She said in a manner of near awe to his knowing. She however was silent after her comment and continued to listen to him quietly, her mind struggling over as to what she should do. She swallowed once, the fear of the Necromancer growing inside her once again as he persisted in the course that in order for her to gain answers, she’d have to aid him, help him in something she was so totally against.
Cella looked at him when he had finished speaking, her lavender eyes regaining a bit of the shine that had been there before, the fear of the man holding her hand regaining some control of the situation, the more quiet voice in her mind strengthening for the moment. “If you did kill my father, would you tell me you were sorry.” She stated more than asked, reminding herself that she hated this man, reminding herself she needed to get away, but then, his words, her answers to all her unanswered questions, his touch, it no longer made her feel sick, she seemed to have grown to almost like it, having him talk to her gave her the feeling of a child being lulled into some sense of calmness after a great pain had befallen it.
She was quiet for a few more moments as they continued to walk, her fingers once again closing about his hand as her mind screamed at her to stop, to let him go, to run away. No, you can’t listen, you have to get away, you can’t help what is your enemy her mind was yelling as loud as it could but she shook her head, her eyes shutting against it. When her eyes opened again, they had begun to glow with an eerie purple iridescence and she stopped, her feet no longer moving forward though her hand stayed in his. “I will listen to you Necromancer but I will not harm a living soul, I can not, I would sooner die.” She told him, her gaze now boring into him, her lavender eyes seeing what she wished to, though nothing at the same time. She cared not who he was, only that he did indeed hold many answers to her questions. Her voice was growing stronger now as well, the hollowness being replaced with conviction, the dreamlike quietness still there but diminished greatly.
Cella refused to take one more step and now, she brought his hand up with hers and turned that burning gaze down at the two appendages, her small hand wrapped inside his. He didn’t want to let her go, and she wanted him to continue holding her hand, she wanted to stay at his side, even through the hate that was beginning to once again rise in her mind. After another pause, she let their hands drop down again and she smiled a motion not shared with the rest of her features. “I do need you Necromancer, but…” She shook her head in confusion. “You have given me no choice but to listen to you…” She said then, the smile diminishing from her lips, the iridescence dying once more from her gaze and now, she moved closer to him. So close was she now that their arms crossed and twisted together slightly as their hands continued to grasp one another and she rested her shoulder against his and lifted her head to where his ear would be, somewhere under that hood. “I will do what you ask, but hear me in this and do not misunderstand.” She went on, her anger gone from her voice, though the conviction of her strong will still there within. “I will not kill for you nor will I aid you in obtaining corpses for your twisted work, you will have to find another use for me. I only do this because I know you hold the key to what I am, and I know as well that you will not give me what I desire without payment in some manner.” She continued and then laid her head on his shoulder and smiled though he could not see. “Teach me and I will learn what you want me to be, ask me and I will obey, I have no choice, but command me and I WILL destroy you, I don’t know how, but in the end, I will…” She trailed off, her head coming off his shoulder as she once more lifted their hands and looked down upon them and then into the dark abyss of his hooded self. Her fingers now laced themselves in his and she gripped to his hand like that child would to a mentor, putting her faith in what could be either her undoing or her safety. The only thing the small nurse knew, was that once again, she found strength in his words and strength in herself she had not known was there, and as well, she felt so strongly bound to this Necromancer that she was more frightened of him than ever before
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Post by Decimas on Mar 12, 2006 22:35:57 GMT -5
“You hesitated.” He said simply in response to her wonderment of his knowing she questioned herself. “You do things for me you obviously wouldn’t otherwise want to do, you say things you wouldn’t want to say. You agree to things you wouldn’t otherwise agree to. The you you know isn’t the you you show me, not entirely, and I can see enough conflict in you to know you thought twice about every one of those words.”
Decimas was taken aback when the girl stopped walking and turned to face him as she spoke. He had to come to the realisation then that he hadnt moved as far ahead as he had thought. That, or he had taken a step backwards somehow. He didn’t know how he wouldhave taken a step back, couldn’t think of what would have done it. But at that same time, he didn’t know what it was that had been moving him ahead in the first place and so, either case was just as reasonably plausible. Whatever the case, she had decided to agree to his offer this time, not been puppetted into it by his ununderstood powers over her. She was still acting of her own will, or acting of her own will again. Either way, he hadnt been able to get what he wanted from her. His last attempt at best guess had obviously failed and he needed a new one. He knew he had to think fast, but was coming up empty handed for the time.
He didn’t say anything to her in response to her conditions. He was definitely hesitant, but didn’t mind letting her see as much that time, not as though he could have helped it if he had wanted to. He really didn’t have anything to say to it. Even with her agreeing to help him, he didn’t have use of her for battle, and that took a lot away from his use. And even what help she did offer, her couldn’t be too sure of so long as she was operating on her own free will.
“Yes,” he said quietly, coming back to an earlier question of hers regarding the death of her father. “I would apologise for it had I killed your father.” As she stayed close to him, her shoulder against his, he gently wrapped his free arm about her back as though to hug her softly. “If I did kill him,” he continued to speak softly in the girls ear, “I am sorry. And if it was my former master who killed him, I am sorry for that as well.” The necromancer was of course partly covering his back, trying to warm the girl up to him, but Decimas truly did care, somewhere in the back of his mind, in the bottom of his heart. Cellas love for her father reminded him of the love he had had for his own, and her passion for her fathers death reminded him of what he felt on the murder of his father. He wouldhave done anything, killed anyone for the sake of his father, to avenge his father. He certainly couldn’t blame the young nurse for caring as much for hers, and he certainly would never be able to callously say he didn’t feel any remorse over her father as well, as obsured as it may have seemed. He obviously wouldn’t be divulging as much of his heart to her, but atleast he would stay his toungue from its usual careless words.
“You’re still bleeding.” He commented curiously. he had seen the blood dripping from the open wound on her neck again as he had gotten close to her to put his arm around her. He watched that darkness left from his sword still creeping about within her, never coming to any fullfillment of itself. He wondered yet again about the significance of it, about what it could mean for its power over her, of his power over her, and what if any connection her blood may have to the sway he should hold over her. He slowly moved his mouth over her neck again, staying a few inches away from touching her as he breathed his warm breath onto her again, as he had earlier that night, and breathed right over the open wound on her neck before inhaling a great breath of air, as if to breath the very sent of her blood.
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Post by Cella on Mar 13, 2006 1:39:56 GMT -5
This time, when the Necromancer touched her, she did not recoil, nor did her stomach lurch in detestation of his touch. She closed her eyes as his arm rounded her slender shoulders and relaxed further, allowing their hands to move back down, fingers laced together in some sick, twisted sort of connection, between them. As he spoke, she listened, his voice coming to her mind in what was a soothing manner and she finally took a breath, a long inhale and slow, steady exhale, though that was all, before she opened her eyes again and turned her head to look at him, into that abyss of blackness as he continued to talk.
Don’t listen, don’t listen to him you silly girl. That part of her mind that always tried to fight the Necromancer was saying, but she wouldn’t listen, she couldn’t, even if she wanted to, his words were so comforting, the perfect things to be said, at the perfect time too. “Thank you.” She said to Decimas, after he had completed his statement about her father, and nothing more, as he had already moved on and now was commenting on her throat.
As he moved his head in, his one arm still about her shoulders, once again, Cella didn’t flinch or even stiffen this time at his hot breath on her neck, instead, she tilted her head to the side once more, her eyes closing yet again as he moved over her throat, to pause and take a deep breath inward, the warm air form his breath turning cold as he inhaled. Cella moved her free hand up and touched the open wound on her throat, this time, wincing slightly as her fingers pushed against it a moment and then brought her hand up to her lips, her lavender eyes opening up to gaze upon the dark crimson liquid that now stained her fore and middle finger of her hand. She then brought those two fingers to her mouth, Yes.. that’s it, go on… another voice was talking to her now, in her mind, drowning out the one screaming in the back of her skull not to do it…her lips parted ever so slightly as she placed her fingers inside her mouth and then slid them out again, her tongue following only slightly to be certain she left no trace behind. That same hand reached inside his deep shadowed hood, disappearing as his face always had into his abyss of nothingness and the palm of her hand caressed his cheek momentarily before she slid it out again and let it drop, numbly to her side. “Yes, I know I am still bleeding, interesting, isn’t it?’ She stated more than asked. “I’ve never had a scar before nor have I bled like this…” She almost purred now, having a taste of her own blood. Cella’s eyes then moved to peer at him again, just her eyes, her head still remained tilted as he remained poised over her throat. Her pupils seemed to elongate giving her a most cat-like appearance and her lips turned up into a smile, showing slightly but not entirely her canines slightly elongated as well. Her small body gave a bit of a shiver then and she closed her eyes and took another breath, slowly in, her head turning slightly as she breathed deeply, her lips turning up all the more, revealing now the entire glory of what would be her long, slender fangs.
No! the voice deep within screamed at her. Cella laughed slightly, though Decimas wouldn’t know why, yet. “I wonder Necromancer…” Cella said in a quiet, almost too passive tone. “Why it is, I suddenly feel so… “ She paused and brought her free hand up again and placed it gently on the back of his hooded head, her fingers spread out as they closed about his form, nestled lightly and perfectly cradling him where he hovered. “… Captivated by you.” She finished, her breathing beginning to come to life once more, taking in deep breaths and letting them leave through slightly parted lips, slowly, as if controlled.
The dark tendrils from his sword that played about, franticly looking for an escape now jumped upwards and laced their dark fingers over her cheeks, undulating and dancing as if happy to be free from their long stay in their secluded dimensions within her throat. They seemed to grow, to stretch out and expand moving now out from within her cheek to the back of her head where they seemed to disappear from site under her own cloak. Cella didn’t seem to notice the tendrils of dark death that moved towards her back, around her shoulders then down her spine. She continued to hold Decimas in her hand, that eerie smile still etched over her lips though now, the hand in his seemed to tighten its grip, nails now biting into his flesh.
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Post by Decimas on Mar 15, 2006 0:58:12 GMT -5
As weary as he was about the girls motions towards her throat not far from where his face was at, Decimas stayed to his course about her form, breathing onto her and inhaling the scent of her flesh and blood as he moved so close to her. he was distracted, to say the least, by her hand bringing blood from her neck to her mouth and sliding out again, showing that sign or trait of the vampire within her, but he wouldn’t let it show in any motion or manner of his. He pulled his head away though only slightly, and tilted up a little to allow his eyes to look to her mouth as she drew her hand away from it, and slowly moved it into his hood. seeing no reason to fear this motion, nor any feasable defense against it, the necromancer allowed her hand within his mask of darkness without any resistance whatsoever. His face and entire body remmained in its casual stance, his face still so very close to her neck as he continued to breath onto her, though at a greater distance than before.
He was aprehensive, of course, of allowing the girl such a degree of dominance over him or the situation as to have her hand within his own hood, touching his own skin, but without seeing any other response to be made, Decimas allowed it. Upon seeing the change in her eyes and the slight appearance of the extensions on her teeth, his mind wandered swiftly between hesitation, worry, and wonder. He wasn’t sure wether this would be a good thing or a bad, having her strengths so obviously apparent. He knew that the girl would obviously realise the change and she would catch on even more as to her own strength.
Decimas had to think fast and he knew it, but he still couldn’t be sure what to do. She spoke to hm of how she felt, how she was so captivated by him, as she said, and he could only hope in his best guess that she had become even more drawn to him, but he also feared she may have gained some higher degree of empowerment. His pensive hesitation may have been apparent as he didn’t say anything ata ll, though there really hadnt been anything to say and so he hoped, that his hesitations wouldn’t show all too much. It was obvious by then that the girls deeper powers were triggered by the taste of her blood, and he wondered how much she had done, how far she had gone. He wondered how far it could go, how much it could do, this taste of blood to her.
Decimas looked down at their hands that remained clasped one in the other as her vampiric traits became even more dominent, and he noticed her fingers, her nails, digging into his skin. Of course he felt it more than anything, but soon enough, he saw the blood dripping from his own hand and onto hers as it made its way to finally drip down onto the ground below. Thinking on the changes she had gone through from tasting her own blood, and how she suddenly became so much more fascinated by him when she did, he started to wonder about others bloods effect on her, or more specifically, his own. What would happen, he wondered, if she drank of his blood rather than her own? Would the taste of his blood give him more presence to her, would it give him more control?
As his hand became covered in his own blood drawn by the nails of the unchained holding his hand, he lifted both their hands up between them, letting his other hand fall slowly to his side and hand just by his back. Looking at his hand in hers, dripping blood between them, Decimas lifted it some more to put it before her face. “Youre captivated by be because you ought to be.” He said in a calm tone, finally managing to collect a few words to try and play a card. “You should want to be.” As he finished talking, he moved his hand closer to her mouth, bringing her hand with it as he did, and touched the side of his blood covered hand to her lips. “Taste me Cella.” He said with a grin that she still wouldn’t see. “Maybe you’ll find some more answers, if you listen to that part of you that wants to listen to me. Maybe you’ll get what you want, if you just don’t question the stronger part of you.”
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Post by Cella on Mar 15, 2006 2:19:16 GMT -5
The entire time Decimas collected his thoughts, the entire time he hesitated, her desires only grew all the more and it was becoming quite evident that the vampire within her had surfaced in both leaps and bounds the moment she had taken a taste of blood, but not just any blood but that of her own
The tendrils that once danced over her cheeks and through her spine seemed not to have an effect, as though perhaps they were insignificant in power to do a thing, though they still traveled throughout her body, appearing from time to time back through her cheeks to make an appearance and then slowly make their way back under her cloak and disappear from the eye again.
no.. stop this, you can’t… the now tiny voice screamed in a futile attempt to calm her as she continued to grasp his head in her hand, as her nails continued to rip open the skin on the hand of the Necromancer. She didn’t listen, she couldn’t hear all she could hear was his words and the sound now of his heart, beating within his chest, giving away his slight apprehension, his doubt, but most of all, incensing her with a lust for the blood that it pumped through his veins. She could smell the salty, metallic life that now flowed from his hand and a slow, quiet and almost animalistic growl rumbled from her throat as he raised his hand to her lips and then pressed that life source to them, giving her no choice but to taste what he had to offer.
“Oh, I will get what I want, and more, Necromancer.” She purred then, her lavender eyes darting from his dark hooded face to the blood that flowed from his hand so freely, and waiting to be so freely given. She licked her lips slowly; the grin that had been there before now widening to a smile, if that was what one would call such a sinister thing.
This most definitely was not the scared little girl that had walked so timidly into the graveyard this night, this was the Unchained he sought to free from its slumber, though perhaps just the beginnings of what it would become, it was all the same, still quite dangerous. Decimas had succeeded in one thing, so far, and it was to waken a dormant creature that was designed to and meant for one use only, and that was to destroy any that did not control it, any who it did not see fit to control it and just now, Cella did not respect the Necromancer that held his life before her.
The hand that had been holding the back of his head in its rather firm grip now slid down, the nails raking over his cloak just enough that he’d feel them about to tear through the cloth, and down his arm until it reached his wrist were it grasped tightly and jerked his hand over, revealing the under, more tender and lethal part of his wrist.
“Oh, I want answers Necromancer.” She stated now, her lips tracing over his bloodied fingers, her tongue trailing, catching what her lips didn’t already bring in to her waiting mouth. “Through your dying breaths, from the blood you will give me, I will learn…” She finished and then, quicker than any normal vampire she had her fangs in his wrist, drawing from the Necromancer his very life second by second. Her hand held his wrist so tightly there would be no escaping her grasp, her strength much more great than any he’d have known, the bones of his wrist beginning to collapse under her tight hold, near their breaking point by now as she continued to draw his life away, her fangs pulling up under his skin in a painful move that would rip the holes even wider as she continued. If Decimas didn’t find something to do and fast, he’ d be the first victim of his own creation.
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Post by Decimas on Mar 17, 2006 3:30:54 GMT -5
At first he thought he might be getting somewhere, but when she started to seem more dominant than submisive and that look of determination came into her eyes, Decimas knew he’d struck the wrong nerve, made the wrong move. Her hand slid down away from his head and for that he was grateful. He could see the strength of the unchained growing within the girl, the fury and lust, the power of the nunatural creature building before his very eyes. He knew it wasn’t the little girl anymore who was standing before him but it was infact that stronger side of her that hed been telling her to listen to. What a mistake that seemed to be. He had overstepped his bounds, gotten in over his head, so to speak, and he desperately needed to find a way out.
He was shocked but not surprised, if there ever was such a state, as her fangs seemed instantly within his wrist without any motion inbetween being seen. Her grip around his arm was more than his bones should take and he knew that more easily than anything. The pain was excruciating and his groan most painful sounding. As well was his gasp as his mouth opened and his head kicked slowly back. Better his wrist than his neck though. Her hand on the back of his head and her fangs in his neck wouldhave allowed little to no movement on his part which he had drawn to mind far before she sunk her teeth into his wrist. Good thing she went for that taste of blood from his wrist when he offered it. More than an attempt at bringing something out in her, he had to set himself up for the lesser of two evils that he could predict befalling him if the given circumstance were to go as infact it had. “Know your place!” he managed with what little breath he could muster, though still managing to come off sounding rather angry and dominant as he drew his sword from its upside down sheath on his back with his one hand that had rested at his side.
With a single motion with his arm, Decimas drove his sword up and directly into the girls abdomen just below her chest, right about the area of her diaphram. With a grunt and a twist of his body at the waist, Decimas drove the blade of his long sword completely through her, stopping only at the meeting of the swords hilt with her frame. The sword stuck significantly past the other side of her body and shimmered a crimson reflection from its blade in the light of the moon and the stars above. “I’m not as weak as you may think, wench.” He said angrily under his breath as he leaned in next to her pressing firmly against the sword in her torso and then lifted a little, letting her full weight press down entirly on the blade of the sword as he exhaled on long hot breath onto the side of her neck.
The dark forces within the necromancers sword had long since flooded into the girl again through the gaping hole in her torso that the sword still found itself in. Forming tendrils again and spreading out from the wound itself, the eerie darkness had something of a more dominent act to it this time, the wound being far more severe and the exposure far greater. All that could be seen of it though was what was in the immediate area of the wound and the whole his sword had cut in her cloak, but he could feel the tendrils of dark death creeping fluidly through the girls body.
Releasing a little bit of force from the pressure he layed up onto the hilt of the sword holding Cella up an inch in the air and dangling her tip toes against the ground, Decimas lowered her suddenly to the ground and withdrew the blade from her in one swift slide of the sword. “That was dumb of you Cella.” He said, staring her in the eyes as he swung his sword once through the air and strung it back infront of her. “Very, VERY, DUMB of you! DON’T try anything again, or I wont take it out.”
Decimas was definitely most angered by the girls actions. Angry at her and angry at himself. He had made a mistake, made a wrong move, and turned her the wrong way. He hoped the damage want permanent, that his mistake hadnt cost him his command. Hopefully too, that little display of his own convistion would set something straight in her. continuing to hold his sword to the unchained before him, Decimas shook his head and clenched his teeth, still feeling residual pain from the bite shed made into his wrist.
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Post by Cella on Mar 17, 2006 5:23:28 GMT -5
As his life’s blood spilled down her throat, visions of memories, clouded and jumbled began to twist their way through the Unchained’s mind. Memories and knowledge, every now and again she’d catch sight of others like him, Necromancers, and then, it came to her, just a flash, what she wanted, what she had desired to know, the truth about what she was, however, at that same moment, she felt a searing pain in her abdomen that brought her back out of her mind and she was forced to withdraw her fangs from his wrist as Decimas plunged his sword through her body, as we’ll, denied most of the information she sought.
Her mouth opened his blood dripping down the corners of her lips though no sound come from those lips, it was as though her voice had been cut off, as well as her frenzied feeding. She could hear his words, hear him speak to her in anger and the pain she felt from that wound, no, not the wound silly girl, the sword a voice sounded in her mind and she looked down to find that he’d plunged the damned thing through her entire body and then she stiffened, the tendrils of black death swarming about inside her body, wrapping themselves about her spine, her every nerve, making her pay attention to Decimas, and her eyes glazed over as she looked up from, now, what would be the ground, how she got there, she didn’t know. What she did know was that the sword had been slid from her abdomen though leaving behind its painful darkness within her, those tendrils meant death to others, and to her, a much worse fate than that.
As the wound began to close, with the presence of the sword gone from its opening, Cella’s eyes moved upwards to find his darkened face peering down at her from above, that horrible sword swaying dangerously about in front of her again, she cringed away from its point.
He was yelling at her, she had made him angry, and suddenly, she didn’t want him to be angry with her and she shook her head slowly, her small form moving slowly into a sitting position, carefully avoiding the bloodied tip of his sword as she did so. “No…I will not do it again.” She said in a quiet, child-like tone, almost as if she was being punished by her father, the note in her tone was respectful and apologetic all at once’ perhaps even a bit regretful.
Three was no voice in her mind, nothing there but her own and his. The darkness within her body continuing to do its work, twisting and manipulating what was once a child into what would become the very thing Decimas wanted, a puppet though, how to command his puppet, he’d have to learn, just as she would come to learn her limits with him.
Cella looked down at his wrist, still bleeding though only slightly, the holes in his wrist would not heal so fast on their own and she reached out and touched his hand almost timidly, once again, still careful to avoid that nasty sword of his. “I am sorry…” She apologized. “Give me your hand…Decimas.” She said lifting her other hand to pull back a few locks of hair from her face, the persona of the Nurse taking over at the sight of his bleeding hand, it was as if the vampire didn’t even exist at this point. Though, only a fool would think it gone for good.
Cella had gained quite a bit of information through drinking his blood, his name being one of the first. She also knew what she was, though still couldn’t understand it, his sword had denied her of the remaining knowledge he held. Her mind right now, was focused on one thing, and one thing only… to make right, what she had done wrong in his eyes, if he would trust her to do so. That step would be up to him to decide.
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