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The Mood is Write

Ink-Dripping Elfmom, Word Bondage Enthusiast
SITE SUPPORT
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
11PM to 2AM EST, plus or minus a few hours in either direction.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
• Fandom
• Historic Non-Fantasy
#1
Beside Brock, Rare's eyes misted as she approached her adult daughter. The two looked almost identical, save the younger had more bust and appeared to favor blue over her mother's favored imperial violet. Separate to the mother for mere months, at least twenty years appeared to have passed.

Brock knew the woman who'd gained her freedom through years of trials still held milk, but he kept quiet and simply watched, a smile on his dark face as he watched Keeyo and Rare speak, occasionally joined by the two young men also in the library: one Onas and one prince whose name had not yet come up in conversation.

"Then, as long as they're coming, I want to go with you, Mother!" Keeyo beamed.

"One condition," Onas asserted, then looked between Rare and Brock, expression grim before his gaze settled onto Rare. "I don't want to live with you, Princess Anai."

Rare nodded. "Yes, that will be fine. We can arrange something different."

Brock's eyes flicked briefly towards the shades of teal along the walls and even on the trio of young adults. His attention returned more fully to the exchange inside the large, round library.

"As long as I get a chance to know my mother and visit her, I'm going to be happy," Keeyo added with a smirk as she flipped her smooth, black hair over her shoulder. In the next moment, her body hit the floor, limbs splayed limp.

Rare stepped towards her daughter, hands over her mouth in shock. "Keeyo?"

A voice came suddenly from all directions: male, accompanied by no scent. "Hunters. Neither she, Onas, nor the prince are harmed, and they will not remembering this meeting." At those words, Onas and the prince fell, and the voice continued. "Leave."

"Lady Rare," Brock breathed as she looked back towards him mouth covered as the scent of fear and sadness wafted toward him.

The voice spoke again. "I will not and can not allow you to take the heir to the throne. If you must take from our society, you may take only your daughter. Should you opt against taking her, she will continue with her life in this world, oblivious to your identity, and inevitably join the Unifiers, as she has planned for years."

Quiet, wrathful, in a tone so unlike her usual placid demeanor, Rare demanded to know one thing: "You'll stop me how?"

"Please turn your eyes downward. The floor on which you stand is carved from wall to wall with a banishment spell."

Silent, Brock's lady's scent shifted back to sadness—no, beyond it. Despair clawed at his nose as he watched Rare tremble, and he felt himself begin to burn, as though on fire. His vision shifted, though he couldn't understand exactly how, and he turned his gaze toward the floor. The spell stood out stark against the masonry, as though illuminated. Chanting came from somewhere below, and the world slowed around him as he leapt forward, eyes on Rare, locked as he leapt to chairs, tables, shelves—anything to keep from touching the floor.

He grabbed Keeyo in a pause that felt too long as he stared at Rare, then flung the girl towards her mother.

Eyes remained locked on the woman as she stumbled back, mouth and eyes open in shock. He couldn't remember when he came to the two young men, but his leap down from a bookshelf and their distance from the nearest table, and its distance from the rest of the furniture...

Brock felt how the spell sucked at his feet, forced them down, increased his weight against them. He threw the boys to Rare as well, and the impacts sent her and the children free from the room. There he stood, panting, as the world sped again, and his eyes remained firm. The sensation of stone began to climb his legs, and all he could think was to watch her as she shoved the children from herself and forward, towards him.

The woman smacked against an invisible barrier and began to claw at it as she screamed his name. She sounded far away. "Brock, Brock, call for Lady Jade! Just call Jade! She'll get you! Use your portable! Get out of there, Brock!" Her screams became shrill. She used her hands to pound the barrier, and then began to slam herself against it. With every ram of her shoulder, her expression grew more desperate.

The masculine voice surrounded Brock again. "Clever little martyr, but you've not helped her so much as you believe."

Still shouting and still ramming, the sounds from Rare cut off suddenly, though her mouth still stretched as she tried to reach him. Three more slams, all silent, left her shoulder to hang strangely as she stared through the unseen wall.

Brock forced a deep breath as he felt more of his body grow cold and stiff, and he moved his hands rapidly as the chants around him threatened to deafen him. Unseen winds yanked and clawed at him and his clothes.

He tapped his chest, crossed his heart with his arms as his hands formed fists, then pointed to Rare. He quickly followed with both hands pointing up, and then turning them forward, away from himself. Fingers and thumbs together on his right, he tapped his cheek near the mouth, then near the ear. Two hands again, he pointed up with the first two fingers and glared as he jerked them down and away from himself, similar to the sign for 'go' from a moment ago, but more aggressive.

"You are too late."

Rare glared at Brock. Her shoulders slumped, and her mouth formed several words. The boys fell through portals first, but Keeyo began to float as Rare's eyes remained on Brock. They shifted from a glare to hopeless depression, and after a moment, she looked back, then shoved Keeyo through.

He watched as she turned back to look at him and returned to the invisible wall.

Her signs to him begged he call Jade, but already his throat felt turned to stone. His vision blackened. Did she escape?

Someone once mentioned that banishment was akin to all the worst tortures experienced together in an instant, but instead Brock felt like he fell downward through cotton candy that choked him with sweetness and the flavor of peaches. He landed somewhere soft, and light filled his eyes. A woman stared down at him where he stood upon her soft stomach, and she laughed as though he'd always been welcome there. As he began to feel safe, like he belonged there and always had, her laughter became harsh.

"And now she is damned." The woman wrapped her hands around Brock, firm and insistent, and with as much ease as though she were ripping away a butterfly's wings, she tore his limbs from his body. With a breath, the pain erupted throughout him, and he lost consciousness.

He woke in a place of darkness, though he could see perfectly. "The prodigal son returns," an ancient voice intoned, then paused. "No. Not him. Merely his bastard get." The voice began to laugh, rasping. "I suppose you look enough demon that you are not damned here, but if you are as human as I see your heart, then you will suffer more beautifully than any other. Soon, you will feel it. Soon, the urges will come, and every soul in this place will scream mercy, and you will tell them 'NO!'"
 

Shirelin

The Write One for you.
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, modern, magical, horror, romance, furry
#2
Conflicting signals raced through the man's system, from dryness of throat to the sacchrine sweet of peaches, to even the pull on his center of gravity down and down and down. He landed and rolled, ending up crouched, but his respite was only momentarily as he looked to the woman. Safe. He was safe-

And then the woman laughed and he was thrown back to his adolescence, when such laughter came before punishment and he felt so terribly small, rather then his full 6 and a half foot height. Broad shoulders curled up around his ears to protect them, but her words...

"And now she is damned." That, more then anything, tore at him, and the white hot anger stirred and roared in him again, but he shoved it back. No. No. His shoulders, not quite rolled up, straightened, as did his menacing height. And then the stranger had him firmly, tearing away his limbs. His scream was cracked and ragged as first an arm was torn off, and then another. He couldn't help but think of all the times he had trained, how he'd been through worse, but even so, his consciousness fled and he descended into darkness again.

Lynue...

Her visage stood out in his mind, her despair tearing at him more then anything else. That was a torment only for him, though he inhaled sharply and sat up, pain wracking through his body, his limbs, and his once proud jacket was in tatters at the sleeves, draped along his form regardless, though covered in dried blood.

Two sets of horns peeled back along his hair, which had grown out in his time unconscious. One set, black as pitch, curled around the sides of his head protectively, and the other curled up from his forehead and all but followed the curve of his head, snaking down the back like curls of hair. This set had blunted tips, but it still lent the man a regal appearance. His eyes glowed with the intense power he always denied himself, gold and white blending together seamlessly, almost like precious jewelry of gold and pearls. His boots, thick and powerful, were torn apart by four inch long talons, his feet twisted into something drake like. He staggered as he got to his feet and looked around for the source of the voice. Rare was safe. She wasn't here. "No."

That power surged and demanded recognition, but he'd lived this long without tapping too much into it. He could do so for much longer.
 

The Mood is Write

Ink-Dripping Elfmom, Word Bondage Enthusiast
SITE SUPPORT
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
11PM to 2AM EST, plus or minus a few hours in either direction.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
• Fandom
• Historic Non-Fantasy
#3
A hunched demon emerged from the nearby darkness. She, if her swaying and hard-looking bosom was to be believed, shook her head. She wore something woven of dried flesh and belted at her waist, and her horns that began at her forehead, each fist-sized at the base, curved backward , only to spiral just before they could brush the ground. "Ah, but you will. The human side has no power here, and for every urge for harm you have ever felt, even to protect another..."

Her gleaming and thin lips spread wide in a smile. "Each one comes to bear on you and build more. You will fall to them, you will, but it will bring relief." Her rasping laugh grew faint as she began to walk from him, only to pause and look towards movement on the opposite shore of the red river.

There, on the other side, a woman bound in chains knelt beside the water. Like a ghost stained dark, the few gaps with light offered faint glow and transparency.

She scrubbed at herself in the red water, and as her scrubbing grew more frantic, Brock could see how blood swirled and joined the water, somehow distinguishable from it as it brought drool to his mouth while thirst clawed at him. Hunger tore at his stomach the longer he stared, but the hunger wasn't for food. Images invaded his mind of holding her under the water, of him ripping at her gleaming and liquid-shining black hair that looked more ink than strands, yanking until she began to bleed and scream.

The crone stooped, ready to leap towards the soul on the other side, quick to respond to her own hunger. The soul heard nothing and only stopped her futile scrubbing as she detected the demon's shadow a split fragment of a second before their bodies slammed together. Bones cracked audibly as the soul screamed and twitched, her flailing and broken limbs unable to attack the demon who so eagerly began to bite and yank at flesh, mere teasing to what would become starved devouring soon. Long claws impaled the soul's upper arms, piercing the ethereal flesh and bone with ease.
 

Shirelin

The Write One for you.
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, modern, magical, horror, romance, furry
#4
The man's snarl tore at his throat, more bestial then human, and yet it did not register in his mind. How dare she. How dare she! Years of training fueled by hunger, by anger, launched him across the waters. His tattered jacket snapped out behind him, almost akin to bat wings, and the man came down heavily upon the woman clad in dried flesh. Clawed hands tore into her flesh, tearing her apart. He roared his challenge at her, his teeth bared as he threw her bodily away from the poor tortured soul. How dare she.

Gold and white eyes turned to the soul, his stance tall, broad and he growled low in his throat, taking half a step towards the damned woman. Fear. He could all but taste it on his tongue. Fear. Pain. Terror. Delicious. But... Slowly, Brock's head turned towards the demon who dared to take what was his, his teeth gleaming eerily with the gaps of light that strung the area.

She hadn't paid enough. The whore had taken what was rightfully his, and it would not stand. No. Slowly, he moved towards her, like an unworried predator knowing he had prey; talons dug into the ground, leaving his mark even through the ruined boots. Large hands grabbed at her horns as he yanked her upright, and his eyes gleamed in delight. This... This would be so much more delicious. The growl that came from the pride demon was almost like a purr as he grinned. Oh, the challenge she would make! That would make her fall all the more pleasing...

"You need know your place, wench." The man growled out, tracing a sharp nail along her cheek, drawing the faintest trace of blood with the pressure. Years of training, of practical abuse, gave him so many creative ways to break and torture someone... and he would start with her.
 

The Mood is Write

Ink-Dripping Elfmom, Word Bondage Enthusiast
SITE SUPPORT
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
11PM to 2AM EST, plus or minus a few hours in either direction.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
• Fandom
• Historic Non-Fantasy
#5
The soul collapsed, throat torn and bleeding into the red river as she stared upward. Her chest heaved and bubbles emerged from her throat, to pop quickly. Each breath, more liquid than air, sputtered and gurgled. The blood's flow neither slowed nor stopped as the soul trembled and sought to return to the water's edge on unsteady arms.

The crone shrieked and landed heavily. Bloody wounds, brought by Brock's claws, leaked smoking oil onto the burnt landscape. She cackled as she leaped to her feet, then began to stalk closer to Brock as she watched him observe the damned he sought to take. However, he turned to look at the demon-crone again, and his fury lashed her even before he grasped her horns and yanked her.

Her breath caught, and as she stared, she felt his power shift and reshape her as his demonic power and urges grasped control of him.

Rough ashtone flesh changed, and her spine snapped again and again as it straightened.

The hag screeched as her body arched in his grip, and her creased face stretched wide with agony as he unconsciously burned his misdirected willpower into her. She closed her empty eye sockets as dark blood spilled from them. Smoke rose. Smooth, trembling fingers reached up toward Brock's wrist and nicely manicured nails dug at him as the demon thrashed, slow and feeble. It grew weaker, steadily weaker.

Finally, the crone opened grey-brown eyes to stare at him. "My place is... under your feet..." Her voice gave way. Despite the agony, her lips stretched into a smile as his rank molded her into something the prideful prince wished to see.

"Please, forgive my hastiness! I should have held back until I was certain you had no hunger for that one!"

Her smile grew into a twisted and grinning grimace, but the changes gave the face smooth pale skin and soft rosy lips. Her skull shifted, and her hairline moved, and her face became more heart-like in shape.

Behind Brock, the soul collapsed beside the river and thrust one arm into it. Unable to die or lose consciousness, she persisted. Her chin reached the edge, and she thrust her other arm into it as stones dug against her torn and ragged throat and chest. Desperately, she began to clean her hands again.

"Wash... sins..." the damned woman wheezed as she clawed at her arms during the desperate washing.
 

Shirelin

The Write One for you.
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, modern, magical, horror, romance, furry
#6
That grinning, twisted grimace. That transformation. The damned soul behind him, whimpering and wheezing as she washed herself. Something buried deep recoiled, and his glowing eyes widened momentarily, eyebrows curling back. Clarity struck him, bringing his mortal side to the surface, if only for a moment. He dropped the hag, taking half a step back, his claws digging into the ground.

No. This wasn't him.

But it was. This was his heritage. His birthright. How dare they have him so low on the hierarchy. This was not his position. He deserved more, deserved better.

It wasn't him.

Brock put his face in his clawed hands, snarling as the confusion twisted his anger inwards. Power ebbed and surged around him, inside him as he fought to keep his humanity from being cast back into the depths of his soul.

"Enough!" He cast his arms out, the power he held inside his own soul for so long lashing out at anything unlucky enough to be near him at that moment. He roared to the red sky, the noise echoing, loud and menacing, telling all he was there. He pressed his dragon-like foot onto the woman's chest, pressing down until he could hear the crack of ribs. "Remember this. Tell others of my power. Pride's Son returns."

He was not a mere tormentor. No. He was in control. He was in command. So long suppressed, only allowed fleeting moments of freedom, his heritage sang true finally. He pulled back his foot and gave the hag a powerful kick, grinning at the pain he sent through her. "Now go."
 

The Mood is Write

Ink-Dripping Elfmom, Word Bondage Enthusiast
SITE SUPPORT
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
11PM to 2AM EST, plus or minus a few hours in either direction.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
• Fandom
• Historic Non-Fantasy
#7
The hag, transformed to bear Rare's face and body, rolled from him and coughed blood. Her horns retained their former shape, and her jerked garments no longer fit her, but that smooth and unflawed white skin, the silken black hair, and that face marred now with dirt and blood were identical to the woman he sacrificed himself to save.

Deep inside, his humanity witnessed all, never allowed to sleep for all the sins he committed before his banishment into hell.

The similarly damned soul behind him sobbed as she laid by the side of the river. Her body, sliced into pieces by Brock's power, retained life. Muscle twitched and moved, but the woman remained. She bled, and slowly, gradually, the darkness seeped from her with every moment of her pain.

The hag-turned-Rare coughed blood and began to scramble desperately from the newest power in Hell, eager to be away.

Voices, some near, some distant, whispered amongst themselves with awed voices.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

"Mother?"

Rare looked up from the dinner table.

"Go look for him. We'll be fine, but you're miserable."
 

Shirelin

The Write One for you.
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, modern, magical, horror, romance, furry
#8
Brock whimpered, buried deep in his own mind, unable to stand up to the force that he had long buried and caged. Control. He needed control. But... he couldn't wrench it free from the demon that stormed across the desolate plains. Brock had no idea where Pride's Son was going, and he was an unwitting passenger along for the horrific ride. He looked back in the mind's eye, tugged, resisted. That poor soul...

Pride's Son paused in his walking off into the desolation, a gentle tug catching his attention, pulling his eyes to the soul that lay in pain along the river's edge. The anger, the indignation, began to fail and falter. The darkness leaked from her like the very waters next to her, and massive talons dug into the earth on quiet steps. He knelt down on creaking joints, golden white eyes gleaming in the dim light as he examined her. "What are your sins, little one?"

It was a deep rumble, almost a purr of inquiry as he ran a clawed finger along her cheek, along her chin as he tried to figure out the prey in front of him. It was almost like a lover's touch, or the heat of a brand before it connected with pure flesh. Brock's heart dropped into his stomach as he recognized the predatory feeling building in his demon self. This... this wasn't good.
 

The Mood is Write

Ink-Dripping Elfmom, Word Bondage Enthusiast
SITE SUPPORT
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
11PM to 2AM EST, plus or minus a few hours in either direction.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
• Fandom
• Historic Non-Fantasy
#9
The soul gulped for air like a landed fish as she stared p at the demon. His power had cut through her. Blood spilled from each of the slices, and with it black sin as pain washed it away and left slowly more of her to glow faintly on the burnt shore.

Still, at his urging, she spoke with obedience. "I sold my two children in hopes they would live better lives as slaves than in the slubs, and later became a merchant's wife. I was blamed for his death and damned by a priest before I was hanged."

She recited her sins just as they were etched into her soul. "I committed other sins, but they have been removed through my punishment."

Her wet-sounding wheezing began anew as she stared up at him from where she laid on the ground, eyes only half-seeing through her tears.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

"I'm sorry, Kyoko. Lady Jade. Kina." Rare bowed her head to her mirror as she stood before it, reciting. "I can't do this anymore, not without Bro..." The name fell silent in her throat, and Rare fell slowly to her knees. She couldn't even say aloud that he was gone, even after two years!

Her body shook as she buried her face in her hands, and a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

Rare jerked her head up to see Kina, accompanied by Jade and Kyoko.

"It's ok. We know you are going to look for him," Kina began, then stepped around and cupped Rare's face. "We thought you would have left much sooner. I went ahead and discovered his destination, but..."

Kina trailed off and looked toward Jade.

The soft-spoken woman picked up after a moment, "I am unable to pierce it. I do not understand why. However, it is linked to a specific set of worlds. Those, I can access."

Rare looked from Kina, to Jade, and then to Kyoko—her sister.

"I... I'm sorry," Rare said to all three, though her eyes were on Kyo.
 

Shirelin

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#10
Sold... her children. Brock's humanity growled softly. That was his story, his history. What god had cursed him that the first soul he came to was one who would test him? But it was to try and give them a better life as well...

Did that matter? She still profited off of them. Slavery didn't lead to a better life. It led to toil, to pain, to near certain death depending on the master. A great clawed hand came down, gripping tight at her throat and yanking her up off the ground. It blocked the hole in her throat for the moment, and yet blood still ran along his hands, staining the dark skin an even darker color. "You... sold... your children, hm?"

He brought his cruelly handsome face close with a snarl. "Was it worth the coin? Knowing that your children could have just been killed? Or thrown into an arena to fight to the death?"
He pulled from the memories - the pain, the anger and shame of that fate. Not to be wanted enough to be kept... To be just thrown aside like trash. He grew stronger as his humanity aligned with his demonic heritage on this one.

And still, his humanity backed up as he realized how far he was quickly falling. No. He had long ago forgiven his mother, hadn't he? He'd never known her, but at the very least, she had been the one to sell him, right? And still this anger boiled deep in his belly...

~@~​

Kyoko's eyes held compassion in their dark coloring as she looked to her sister through strife. "If it was Geraldo, I would have left long ago to find him. You have nothing to apologize for, Rare."

Kyo had no idea why the woman had a need to apologize, or why she felt wrong for feeling like this. Kyoko rested a hand on Rare's shoulder as she knelt next to Rare as she switched to her birth language. "Sister, he is the love of your life, even if not your mate. You suffered this long with him by your side... it is natural to feel a hole in your heart with him gone. Go find him."
 

The Mood is Write

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#11
"Sold them... to someone I trusted." The answer came out despite the crushing pressure. "Thought I could buy them back if I invested... make things better, but..."

She squirmed in his grip. "I thought... if they were owned by a friend..." She wheezed. "If my friend could protect them, they'd be safe from the... torches."

Her words refused to stop, even with the pressure. She couldn't stop. His power and his question forced the answer in full detail.

"The slums were being burned. Guards claimed plague. The people they gathered for burning had horns. My son had horns. My daughter would get them."

"I had them... their father had them..."

"I thought slavery would be better than burning death, but my friend sold my children and I drank the coin away until a kind man took me in. I tried to use him to find my children, to steal his coin to regain my children at the kind man's expense. I stole from him, bought eyes and ears around the city, but my children were gone, sold to some faraway place."

The slices of her body began to slide to each other and rejoin. Feet rejoined ankles, calves to knees, knees to thighs and then to hips and slices of torso. Arms grew back together, and then her shoulders connected with the neck he held in his grip.

Even the slices of her head came back together, though slowly.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

One word from among Kyo's encouragements rang through Rare's entire self, and she tensed briefly, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms tight around her sister. "I will. Thank you, all three of you."

She swallowed. "Check on Kiyo and the boys while I'm gone? I... worry."

The slender woman offered a brief smile to each of the trio, then pulled away from Kyo.

Jade, phone in hand, extended the device to Rare—not her own phone, but Rare's. "Here. Keep in contact. Find Hunter Brock. Consider that your mission. He is, after all, your partner, and it is against Hunter policy to abandon one of our own."

Rare took her phone gingerly, then hugged Jade, and then Kina. "Thank you," she finally said.

Jade opened a portal. "Go on. Come back for anything you need. Hunter Kina and Hunter Kyoko have found no Unifier presence in any of the worlds within the expected range."
 

Shirelin

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#12
The story the soul told tugged at him, and flashes of memory edged in. Sold to slavery... to make their life better? He snarled and slammed her down bodily into the earth that ran along the bloodied river, his hand still tight around her so delicate neck. It would be simple to just... twitch... his hand, to snap her neck like the twig it no doubt would break like. Even still, he felt the tremor of impact run along his arm, and as he fell further into his own darkness, his body changed more. His black hair shimmered, shifted and grew down along his spine like a wild, unruly mane. His clothing was stifling, but he dared not show weakness to this soul. No... no, he couldn't.

"People can't be trusted." And still, images of things that had yet to pass flashed through his mind. Of Rare... no, his Lynue holding a black haired child with tiny horns in her arms... of fire claiming her, screaming like a damned soul destined for...

Glowing eyes dimmed for a second, widened as Brock gained control for that second. They became more human like, the pupil and iris faintly made out amongt the gold and white. His grip around her neck faltered, weakened, recoiled, and the man stumbled back, looking at her in horror, as if she was demon, not he. What was he doing?

Kill, maim, punish. Make her pay. The demon's voice in his mind whispered like a breeze among fall leaves. A temptation to fall again.

NO!

He needed out. He needed out. Out out out!

"... I'm sorry." He managed through a croak, crack in his voice, still standing back, his arm partially up to protect himself. He still exuded power, but it was dwindling, falling...

NO!

He gripped at his head, turned, and ran quickly away from the soul. No... no...

"Lynue..." He whined, the sound twisting into a snarling growl, a howl of anguish and righteous anger melded together.

~@~ ~@~

"Be safe, sister." Kyoko's words were in her native tongue, her eyes meeting Rare's before she could disappear. She then switched to English. "Do what you must, but keep your head. He may not recognize you right away if he is..."

In Hell. What horrors were being inflicted on a man who regretted his wrongdoings and did everything he could to make them right? To protect innocent lives above the sanctity of his own soul?

What would Rare even find in the bowels of where they were sending her? She changed back to Japanese. "Bring him back."
 

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My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
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#13
The soul landed on her back, then rose slowly and swayed in place. Her eyes slowly gained focus as the demon's power over her faded, and before her, she saw only another damned soul. "If you wash in the river, the sin will fade faster," she intoned, "The longer you do, the more you forget."

He was already gone by the time she finished speaking, and she was left squinting. "Who is... Lynue?"

Slowly, the soul rubbed at her neck, then looked around for any sign of the demon who had her only moments ago. There were two...

Two demons, a crone and a noble of some sort. She watched as Brock disappeared among the craggy spires, then turned back toward the river's edge.

"I need to... wash the sins away. Yes. Don't go all the way in, but wash in the water. Go all the way in, and you'll be eaten."

Dullness returned to her gaze as she approached the red water, then knelt at the edge and began to scrub at her arms and hands furiously once more. Whether it was true or not that washing away the sins worked, she wanted desperately to forget the hell she'd surely put her children through. The water ate at flesh... It dissolved skin and muscle and hurt, but that was good.

Pain washed the sins away.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

"It flees from itself, hrm?" a bird on a spire asked as it slid snake-like around and down the spire to peer at Brock from eye-level.

"Flees from itself. Flees from memories. Flees from," empty white eyes widened suddenly, nearly bursting from the creature's skull, "futures, yes. Flees from the futures it dreams."

A rasping and high laugh began somewhere in its throat, and grew in volume in pitch as it coiled its neck loosely around Brock. Its face pressed close, almost touching the Hunter as it continued to laugh. The eyes refused to move, locked onto Brock's gaze. It was neither demon nor damned, but still lived in hell as a denizen, and its long neck now encircled Brock's body, trapping without touching.

"I am sent to collect one of Pride." His laugh continued. "You are one of pride, but like this, you are not suiting, nooooo, nooooo." The creature's voice creaked like an ancient door. "I will take you out of hell, but you must that demon be, yesssss, yesssss."

The creature's head bobbed slowly, side to side as he continued to croon over Brock, urging him in a slow and steady voice that slowly, slowly wore at his mind, easing it toward sleep. "You want to leave. You want out. You must the demon be, and I will take you. Yessssss. Yessssss."

⋯﴾﴿⋯

Rare inclined her head first to Jade, then looked once more to Kyoko. Instead of a mere inclination, her nod was firm—determined.

"Itte kimasu," she said as she stepped through the portal.

She paused on the other side only long enough to hear Kyoko's 'itterasshai', and then she offered a brief wave without looking back.

Jade glanced briefly toward Kyo to see if she wanted to follow her sister. If she was going to do it, now was the best time—Jade doubted Rare would return for anything short of another war if she didn't have Brock returning with her. Brock was Rare's... something. The label didn't matter. He was important to her.

In a similar manner, Kyoko and Rare were important to each other. No use denying Kyo the chance to go on a mission with her sister, if she wished to go.
 
Last edited:

Shirelin

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#14
The denizen's words twisted in him, not making sense, tumbling over each other as the thing swayed in front of him. His sins, his emotions, all weighed on him more heavily then his tattered jacket, but he kept it on his frame as a reminder. A reminder... of what? "Sent... to collect."

What did it mean? But only... if he was Pride... His bestial side crooned, purred in acknowledgement. Take... take him out of there... but as Pride? No... Made... no sense. He clutched at his head, his temples throbbing with the fighting, the confusion. His thoughts churned, spun, blended together. He managed to break the creature's gaze, though it tore at him. "I... I want out..."

Rare. Rare laughing freely came to mind. Something to look forward to. He had to get out of here. Trapped. He felt trapped. This creature had him trapped. He lifted his gaze again, a soft snarl escaping him. "You seek me for Pride... but I do not want out of here as him."

Slowly, though, the dark irises gave way to gold and white as his inner demon slowly crawled out, took over as Brock slowly sank down again. "But... he has no choice, dooooes he?"

~@~ ~@~​

Jade's permission is all she needed. That small tell was her way of giving Kyo the go ahead. She bowed quickly, before she took off after her sister in bonds. "Rare."

Her word was quick, short, meant more to catch the woman's attention then anything else. She stopped short, taking the time to look around briefly to take everything in. "You cannot go alone. Geraldo will understand."

Jade would tell him, she was certain. She just needed to be with one of her closest persons right now, to help her now.
 

The Mood is Write

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Genders You Prefer Playing
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My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
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• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
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The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

• Yaoi/Yuri (Gay/Lesbian is fine!)
• Furry
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#15
The creature grinned wide and twisted, lips curling into tiny, ever-swirling spirals. It crooned happily as it saw the shift. "Yesssss. Yes, very good. A human seeks summoning one of Pride. You are strong. Yesssss." It's creaking hiss of laughter continued as it nodded. "Do not struggle, because I will send you, yesss. Send you out. Send you to the huuuuman."

"It is your first time, yesssss. It will seem strange. Do not struggle, noooo."

The creature bobbed its head, and then finally opened its massive beak to reveal black and barbed teeth along the edges, and in the far back, as it grew in size, showing the insides of its mouth, a portal, small as a dime, slowly grew at the back.

"I am the portal, sent to find one of Pride. You do nicely, so nicely. Your power is so profound, my contract will complete, yessssssss!" Its voice lulled at the demon and Brock together, urging a feeling of utter assurance that nothing could go wrong.

The voice rose in pitch, and the creature snapped Brock up, tossing him in the air and catching him whole in its mouth. With a gulp, it swallowed, and through the portal Pride's son went, to appear in a study, surrounded by glyphs of binding that chained and shackled him, and left his mind open.

A young man in thick glasses stared at him in awe.

"What a subject," he breathed, "Beautiful specimen!" A smile grew on his face, and he lifted his glasses up at one side. "My goodness, but you are lovely!"

He slowly circled the bound creature, delight on his features and in his voice. "I've not encountered you before, either. Someone of your rank unknown to me... A travesty! Please, you introduce yourself, but first, I'll offer my own introduction."

He stood now in front of Pride's son. He wore rags, but they were written on in ancient blood, sigils of protection from demons and other frights, including other humans. He left nothing to chance, and took a seat on an uncomfortable-looking stool. Now that he'd stopped moving, it was clear that his hair wasn't light from a natural color, but from age. Deep lines marked his face. "I hope you'll excuse my sitting. I'm not as young as I once was. My name is Archmage Alornus Coffeldis. I study demons and hell, because I am fated to spend my afterlife in hell."

His eyes crinkled with a slow smile.

"A very long time ago, when I was young and foolish, I sold my soul to a demon in exchange for material wealth. To this day, it is still provided. Oh, I've done plenty of charity, back when I thought I could buy my way out of hell, but I have come to accept my destination, and instead wish to study it."

Typically, a summoner offered their soul. This one's was already given.

"Fear not, your price is here, and in exchange for one human soul, my wish is simple: I wish to study you and obtain from you one boon."

A boon, the demon knew by instinct, was one favor, minor, that could be completed within an hour and without using much power. That the price was present despite the summoner lacking a soul to pay meant there was a sacrifice involved.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

With a small wave, Jade closed the portal behind the two women, then sought Geraldo.

Kina, meanwhile, stared at the place where the portal had been. "Hm."

Left behind in Rare's bedroom, Kina took a moment to adopt a thoughtful frown. Left alone in charge of intel, she would have to take care to ensure good notes, and more important, ensure they would not meet anyone's eyes but Kyo's.

Jade paused at the door and looked back. "Hunter Kina?"

"Ah, yes yes, I coming!" Kina chirped with the usual smile as she followed Jade out, then closed the door behind herself, using a spare key to lock it.

"Distracted?"

"Only a tiny bit. It is unusual for both of them gone at the same time. I thought I should take a moment and figure out the best way to cover both their duties."

"Any difficulties?"

"No. It will be easy enough!" She stretched and Jade's eyes ended up on that toned tummy before they darted away. Kina could smell that—little Jadey wanted a six pack! Her smile widened. "I will go arrange things now. Bye bye!"

By the time Jade looked back to say goodbye, Kina was gone.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

Rare looked back as she heard her sister, then blinked. The portal closed behind Kyo as Jade waved, and pale brown eyes returned to Kyo.

Rare watched her for a moment before she stepped toward the other woman and hugged her tight, careful of Kyo's wings. "Thank you. I'm confident I can manage alone, though..." she trailed off, then gave a small squeeze to the other Hunter. "Having you come with me makes me even more certain of success."

She pulled away, her lids crinkled with a smile that she managed to hide only from her hips—scent and eyes, that smile was bright and obvious. She was relieved. Happy.

The two of them were on a road, one that led to a city, by the smell of it through the trees. In the early morning, none would come across them, at least not immediately.

Rare took a deep breath, then looked up and down the road as she absently held both of Kyo's hands. She'd always been clingy to those she trusted, especially when uncertain. Several hundred years ago, her hand almost never left that of a golem she brought home, named Vargo. It took until the death of the Council for her to begin clinging to Brock, after he saved her from the cave-in. Kyo... Kyo, she clung to ever since she decided that she shouldn't be jealous, she should be protecting the other girl.

Her trust was hard to win. Kina hadn't earned it. Jade had some of it, but not all. Strangely, she'd trusted Crow in some aspects.

Rare pulled herself from her thoughts with a shake of the head. "Sorry. I... got thinking. We should head into that city I smell nearby, see if they have books on... well, anything of interest."
 

Shirelin

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#16
But the boon came at the expense of an innocent, didn't it? Someone who had no hand in this. The demon side noted Brock's concern. That was true, but it was a _soul_ nonetheless. A token of power to bring back. Studying him he had no problem with, but both sides worried of the boon. Any number of things could go wrong with a boon. Still, Pride didn't like being bound so tightly, so limited, especially with his draconic wings curled so tightly against his back and the tatters of his jacket hanging over him. His mere presence took up so much room and he stood up taller on digitigrade feet, talons digging into the circle under him.

"First... What is this boon you wish? I will see if it is even worth... my time." Pride had almost said 'our time' and had taken a moment to correct himself, though it came across as merely a pause in his language. He stood tall, so tall, and that was his mere presence filling the room. Brock was amazed. Never had he been so under his heritage - he didn't know the other's personality was so... charismatic. Confident and powerful. Calculating. Despite the power struggle between the two, Pride seemed willing to listen to Brock, even if he didn't always acknowledge it. Which was more then the Hunter had ever granted his demon side. "As for myself, I am called Son of Pride, recently returned home after a lengthy absence."

It wasn't his home though. The mage didn't need to know that though, now did he? Let him think he had all the cards and study the foreigner; then when he arrived at his destination he would be oh so surprised that it wasn't as he thought at all.

~@~ ~@~​

Kyo had tensed at the hug; physical contact was still something the other woman was often uncomfortable with, unless it was a specific few. Obviously there was her mate who she trusted implicitly. He worked within her boundaries and slowly edged them out. Rare was also one who she allowed to touch her, but the hug had been entirely unexpected. She hugged her back briefly, before her gloved hands were held tightly by one she considered a sister. Rare needed that comfort in the absence of Brock being by her side, and Kyoko knew it and was willing to give it.

And then the contact was ended. She nodded. The demoness was right. A city would be a good place to start. "Perhaps books on their underworld if it is true he was banished."

She waved her hands through the air in delicate arcs, muttering under her breath concise words. A bright flash emitted from behind her, and her wings were gone, but not really. Any who passed too close would run into them, but they were at least visibly hidden. That would do for now. She had gone too long without having them to remember properly how to pull them into her person - that would come when they finished growing in, but right now she needed them not to be seen regardless. "Lead the way, Sister?"

She still stood out in her clothes, but at least she looked human. And in this moment, that was the most important aspect of things.
 
Last edited:

The Mood is Write

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Writing Levels
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Genders You Prefer Playing
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Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Combination.

My strengths lie more in the direction of emotions and short-term ideas, where my ability to plan out long-term plots is weak. I do best with a partner who helps me cover that weakness.
Favorite Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like. My absolute favorite is mixed and multiverse, but I'm not limited to those.

• Mixed Genre
• Multiverse
• High Fantasy
• Hard Fantasy
• Low Fantasy
• OP Fantasy
• Science Fantasy
• Modern Fantasy
• Soft Scifi
• Science Fantasy
• Low Scifi
• OP Science Fantasy
• Modern Realistic (Strict)
• Modern Realistic (Loose)
• Urban Fantasy
• Alternate History (Fantasy Preference)
• Post-Apocalyptic Mixed
• Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
• Post-Apocalyptic Scifi
• Post-Apocalyptic Modern
• Dystopia
• Displacement
• Military
• Dying Earth
• Supernatural
• Drama
• Mystery
• Horror
• Religious
• LBGT
• Crime/Detective
• Parody
• Comedy
• Tragedy
• Romance (Must Include Others)
• Erotic (Must Include Others)
Genre You DON'T Like
The list is short. because it's hard to find genres I don't enjoy.

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#17
At the name, the summoner's eyes narrowed slightly. Son of Pride.

Curious. This was an unusual name. Most had descriptive monikers in demonic, and did not translate their names for the sake of mere humans.

They also did not refer to themselves as having any relations, in his experience.

Mix that with the presence that threatened his circle and roof, and it became clear even without seeing the demon's eyes that this... was a demon from one of the highest castes.

He thought he knew them all.

No. He did. He'd ensured it only a month prior, before he utilized this circle.

From his stool, he looked up from the floor and his introspection and let his eyes linger again on Pride's Son.

"My boon," he began with a deep breath, "To be performed after the study is completed and after the sacrifice is given and you are returned home, is for you to claim my death and suffering for your own hands to grant."

If he agreed, it meant the old man would live free of the effects of further injury and age until Pride's son came for him, and no sooner. The order of events meant the archmage didn't want to die immediately. It meant that Pride's Son was not obligated to do anything besides lay claim, and then he could forget the boon entirely with no work at all aside from stating in a voice of power his claim.

No lesser demon could perform this boon, but to one of his power, it was within the boundaries of 'simple'.

⋯﴾﴿⋯

Rare nodded, then began forward.

As ever, her posture was perfect. Crow's training was too deep for her to cast aside, and it showed in the slight bow of her head and meek clasp of her hands in front of her lap that appeared the moment they came into sight of a man at the side of the road.

These signs of submission faded as they left the man behind, but reappeared as they entered the city. Still, it was with a confident voice that she asked a guard if magic was permitted.

He raised a brow, then shrugged as he decided someone asking about legalities usually meant someone who wanted to obey the law, and it would be fine.

"Yes, ma'am. Magic is permitted. There's an academy at the top of this hill where you can study for a day in exchange for some pence."

"Thank you," Rare bowed instinctively, her smile too inviting for the situation. It wasn't something she could help, though.

Crow made her to appeal to certain types, and as the man's eyes lost focus, it came clear he was that certain type—he made no move to follow, but as Rare turned away, his eyes roved her back greedily.
 

Shirelin

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#18
"I... am making a slight amendment to the proposed contract. Release the current sacrifice and find me the fiercest, most loyal hunting hound you can find and bring it to me. If it fits my standards - and they are high, I will tell you - then we will proceed with it as otherwise prescribed." Oh, how he was enjoying toying with this little human. If he would summon him for that, the demon would make him work for it. The archmage could study him in the interim, and it would grant Brock a chance to look for a way to get home while the magic user studied him. The dog would be not just a ruse, though; he genuinely wanted a dog, and maybe this old man could do some good in the world - some genuine good. Charity for charity's sake was a different beast then charity to get out of hell. He wanted the man's soul of course, but Brock wanted the man to have another chance as human's were wont to do. So Pride's Son would humor him for now; besides he needed something to do to entertain himself while he was in control.

"The dog, which you will be raising until I claim you, will then be the sacrifice. Do you agree to these terms.... Alornus?" He drawled out the name, a warning that he knew the man's name. If this went badly, he knew a work around. Names held power, regardless of where one went. He lifted an eyebrow though as he studied this man. For one granted such wealth, he sure did not dress as such. At the very least, a good stool would have been called for. Either way, he tucked his hands behind his back, pressing his chest forward in a way that was entirely male bravado showing off. Have him grow attached to the canine, and then have him take the dog's life... Oh, the suffering would be delicious.

~@~ ~@~​

Kyo stood back, her own posture perfect to match, but her hands were behind her back, loose and ready to grab for her dagger at her hip. Her role, to the untrained, was that of a guardian to the frail looking woman ahead of her. The huntress was certainly dressed that way at the very least. She nodded her thanks to the guard, but her eyes narrowed a warning as she caught the change in his stance. None shall harm Rare while she was on watch - not unless Rare willed it of course.

Still, after the glare, her gaze turned forward again, taking the demoness' lead to where they were going. She wouldn't say a word, as her steely gaze often was answer enough to those that crossed her path.
 

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#19
An amendment that was, frankly, impossible. Alornus sighed.

"Unfortunately, your terms are both impossible. The current sacrifice is already dead, and has been, long enough that their body is in no condition to house a soul, even with the aid of a healer."

That addressed the first.

The second... Alornus closed his eyes, looking genuinely pained.

"All canines are, in this country, extinct and forbidden. The price of acquiring even the feeblest mutt is higher than I can pay, even with my wealth. When last dogs lived in this nation, I was a child of fewer than ten years."

His brows furrowed deep already, formed still more wrinkles on his forehead as his lips drew back in a snarl. "Even mention is forbidden..."

The scars of the day of the ban still burned at Alornus, and he remembered, very suddenly, the reason for his wealth.

How he'd forgotten at all, he didn't know.

"I propose, if you are a fellow lover of dogs, I offer you the souls of those responsible for the banishment of dogs within a year's time."

⋯﴾﴿⋯

The sisters' destination was larger than Rare expected. She stood a moment before it, eying the architecture with appreciation before she glanced back toward Kyo to see how the other was doing.

Finally, she walked into the building. A brief exchange, and Rare handed over a Saldeclan gold coin.

"Ah, it only costs some iron, my lady," the woman behind the desk objected.

"The extra can be used to pay the fees for others who wish to study."

"We don't get this many in a day, my lady," wide eyes showed it not an objection, but rather awe.

"And this," Rare placed another gold coin, "Is a donation."

"Thank you... Thank you so much, my lady," the receptionist breathed.

"An anonymous donation."

A few moments of silence and gaping, and then a nod. "Yes, my lady. Anything you say."

"Anything?"

"Within reason...?"

"I would like someone knowledgeable in the study of demons to assist my sister and I for the day, please."

Wariness, but an answer came, "... Yyyesssss, I believe I can arrange that, if you'll allow a few minutes."

"Take your time. We'll be here for several hours, at least."

"My lady?"

"Yes?"

"Why demons?"

Rare smiled. "A dear friend of mine has lately been dealing with them. I wish to understand so that I can protect him."

Suspicion fell away, and the receptionist nodded. "Oh, yes, of course. Know your enemy and such, yes?"

"Mm."

Silence.

"We'll be in the library when you find someone to help," Rare finally said before she started off.

"Oh! Yes, my lady!" Behind them, the woman put up a sign that said 'free admission today' and darted down another hallway.
 

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#20
Brock, the poor fool, seemed assuaged by the fact the soul was already in a host that was deceased, and the Son of Pride had to suppress a roll of his eyes at the tempered relief his human side felt. He didn't let his disappointment show, but at the denial of a dog for himself, his eyes narrowed under the heavy reptilian brow. A near growl formed in his throat. Dogs. Banned? Extinct? What nonsense was this?!

"It is done. I accept the terms offered. The souls of those responsible in a years' time, and a soul as a forward payment in exchange for your study of me and your boon." It seemed far too simple. When he returned home, he would see about raising hell (he inwardly snickered at the joke) and finding out about this banishment of such loyal companions. He lowered himself to the ground, one leg curled under the other, his arm resting on the raised knee that was left. His tail curled protectively around himself, the spiked tip twitching and flicking with restrained energy. He was making himself comfortable, especially if this gentleman was a true scholar. It was possible he would be there a while, willing to teach what he could. Was that from his human side, or himself? He didn't know, but he would certainly have fun messing with the man's mind in the process.

It was the least he could do for the man to summon him, and unknowingly, give the Son of Pride full control of the 'mortal' form he was forced to share with the annoying, sympathetic Brock.

~@~ ~@~​

"She will talk." Kyo commented quietly after the awestruck librarian had left to find them their help. It was a mild warning, and she kept her eyes on where the woman had gone to before following after her sister. A mild warning and an observation of human nature. Such generosity was bound to get people's attention, that much the black clad woman knew. Her steps were quiet as she followed Rare, the barest noise coming from the protective, though thick soled cotton shoes she normally wore. Her brown eyes cast over the wide array of books, wishing they had the time to just explore the place for the day and read whatever they wished.

That reminded her briefly that her own collection needed expanding, as her and Geraldo had gone through a fair amount of her collection as it was. "Where do we start, sister?"

There was so much to choose from, and she had no idea how this place was even organized...