Post by HST Seth on Aug 5, 2014 5:33:23 GMT
You dream of trading places, I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes, there is too much to lose
Wake up! Behind these trenches, you run around defenseless
There is too much to lose, You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous
But be careful what you wish for!
The echo of footsteps as she walked. The squish of the wet in her boot. The sound of the breath of the Bratovich was so loud it made the sewer feel like a hurricane. She leaned forward so her head wouldn't touch the ceiling at 9 feet. She made no effort to be hidden. She could see the world on the other side. Wolves on every side, hoping for a chance to bite at her, with no understanding of how they were playing into her trap... Three... two... one....
"Come and get me, you motherfuckers."
The world on that side exploded in a wave that looked like the fallout of a nuke. The looks of fear on their face an echoed memory in the fiery storm unleashed beside her. Her tongue slid across her teeth, tasting the panic rising as their loss washed over the entirety of their holy ground.
"This is stupid! You can't do this! Half of our warriors aren't here! We'll all die!"
Desiree stared at the child down her nose, her spine straight. Her eyes were hollow, black, monstrous. Her beautifully sculpted face warped into a betrayal of the beast behind the facade. She didn't move.
"Why?! WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?"
A pause. The woman's slender body turned downward just slightly, her head swaying as her hair fell to the right.
"Because I am the Bishop, and they are in our territory."
The rest of the Cainites shuffled at the scene. Eugene's eyes flickered with the thoughts of rage, but his beast didn't rise up to meet them, consoled by the thought of murder. The palpable worry rose in the air--would she kill him? Right then? Would monomancy stain the floors in effigy to their upcoming victory?
She felt relief as she turned away, whether perceived in her mind or true was irrelevant. The werewolf took her attention a moment as she told him her expectation. As she turned to her warriors, she smiled that wicked grin, a flash of the expectation in her eyes. These... are Sabbat.
Her smile disappeared, her stare falling on the Urchin with disdain, "Are you coming?"
"Me? To die? No! No, definitely not!"
He sputtered, but she heard his feet start behind them shortly after they were out.
Good.
The dark halls were silent for a moment before she pressed onward. Desiree's long fingers stretched in anticipation, fondling the grips of her weapons in each hand. In one, a silver claymore. In the other, her beautiful weapon of choice.
He appeared and moved to strike, but her sword diverted him without effort. Her mind barely recognized the man she had wanted not to kill as her silver sword cleaved through him, the desire for death overwhelming her senses. Blood sprayed and filled the air, her eyes going wide with pleasure. Another entered the fray, taking a bite out of the useless Bratovich. Desiree reigned in her reactions for a moment as the woman charged toward her, driving her claws through her body as it rained into a puddle onto the ground. The woman started to paw through her blood in an anger...
and then there was something unfamiliar.
Desiree felt fear.
Fear. Real fear. The desire to run.
Not the fear of loss, but the kind that makes you turn away and cry.
She struggled to keep herself from running. She circled as the woman caught her mind again. Her husband began to rise. The Bratovich leaned, uselessly, against the wall, as the two Tzimisce lay in pools of blood on the floor... but her ally crawled up and in.
The fear passed. Desiree struck as blood, but her opponent was impervious to touch.
"As you can see, I am also immune to your attacks." She gloated. Desiree's arrogance was matched in that tone.
As her body reconstructed itself from the pond on the ground, slowly coming together and towering over the woman in front of her, Desiree chuckled.
"Are you giving up, then?"
"Are you?"
"Oh... but I've already won."
The woman chuckled. Desiree's black eyes were alight with her pleasure at the game.
"You're so arrogant... just like my son."
"I'll be laying you and your husband's unmoving bodies before him."
"I'm sure you think so. Shall I go get our alpha and have him fight you with me?"
"Please. That would make this easier."
A laugh of hysteria burst from the wolf, cut short by the inky black of Desiree's shadow. A brief blackness that closed them off. As it disappeared, her husband lay unbreathing on the ground.
"No..." She was shocked, staring in disbelief, "NO! NO!!!"
Her mind split in two, dropping over him to wake him and finding no response before it was entirely consumed. She ran right into Desiree's waiting arms.
Congratulations on your current taking of control.
I'm watching with great interest.--- Cardinal
Desiree set the note on the side of the dresser as she raised an eyebrow. The Archbishop had taken a break, apparently, inside his new toy. At least 3 had suggested the destruction of it so far, but Desiree knew that Javier was more important than the Archbishop seat to her.
On the other hand... his inability to get shit done about the enemies surrounding them was a problem, and Desiree had the opportunity to succeed now without calling attention to his immobility.
She had a werewolf to call.
The man sat on a throne like some pompous tool as the three of them entered. Another exchange of words, both equally arrogant.
Then she was a human.
"Shit."
I was having so much fun this time around.
Is this it?
The lance came toward her as she stared up at him. Her sword began to move, but without her supernatural capabilities, it fell short of saving her.
blackness took her.
I guess there's always next time.