tampered | Open Log for Two Pirate Ships Day

Current Mood: curious
Current Location: At Sea

Open Log for Two Pirate Ships Day

When; Dec. 14th

Rating; TBA

Characters;

revelations9x6 Xulchilbara so far.

Summary; Xulchi's first curse, and a nautical one too!
(I'm going to assume the other characters assigned to the Little Barroness may want to tag in? Open to whomever really =D )

Log;

The Red God never slept.

Well, to be precise, he did not sleep as humans define the idea.
Occasionally, however, he would leave the body he possessed and move about as spirit rather than flesh.
His 'body' would appear dead, and for all intents and purposes, was just that; respiration, pulminary and cerebral functions all in a suspended state as to be nigh undetectable.
To do was was refreshing, even comforting as Xulchilbara rather disliked being limited by the awakward, and often cumbersome clay of humanity.

Today, however, he was rather sorry he had engaged in such rejuvination.
For instead of returning to the manor and his suite of rooms therein, he had 'awoken' to an unfamiliar ( and decidedly smaller ) room.

His bed now rested on the floor, but still retained it's blood-red hangings, and the soft bedclothes he preferred. Beyond that, there was little similarity.
The hearth was gone, and the walls, while covered in similar fabrics, were wooden planking instead of stone.
Worse than all of these changes?

The window.

A wretched window that allowed in light
Meager light, but light nevertheless.
He rose from the bed quickly, and in so doing noted he was clothed in a skirt of black fabric that pooled around his ankles, then looked out the lattice to see that instead of being in the manor, or on land, there was mist wreathed ocean as far as the eye could see.

Curious, and not a little confused, he closed those ever-burning eyes and reached out through his marks on his children and felt reassurred when thier presences registered as also being nearby.
Except for one...

The Executioner.
He was further away, and somehow......altered?

Not a little concerned with all of this, the Red God moved now to the double doors set in the far wall, and opened them to find a modest set of steps, and beyond those....

.........A ship?

Yes, a ship. The style of which took him a full minute to recognize as egyptian in nature.
The vessel was massive, and with sudden clarity, he realized that what had drawn him back from moving amongst the ether was the massive shift in the Ticking Clock's influence over it's citizens.

Mist curled around the mast of this oddity, and burning eyes followed the single mast up with a quizzical expression.
So this was a curse?

Granted that with the knowledge that this was all some mischief on The City's part came the realization he could lessen it's influence and return himself, his home, and his children to rights....but a creeping sense of mischief and curiosity fairly begged the question: But why?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The grin faded back into that knowing smile, and the God simply nodded, brushing against the gunbarrel as he did so.

Yes, he was immortal for humans are creatures of want.
As long as they suppress thier base urges...thier dark desires...his function would always be a necessity.
.....However, he was not invulnerable, and a gunshot at such close range would be messy, loud, and sweetly agonizing.

He moved, still with that same care as to not spook Heine into squeezing the trigger just yet...Xulchilbara still wished to talk to the younger man, and avoid using the more invasive, scathing method of his 'inner' voice.
One pale hand raised to the silver gun, and his index finger straightened to trace it's cold, metal curves back, and downward..until that single finger came in contact with Heine's hand.

A pinpoint lash of more concentrated sensation, the same pleasure-pain that rolled off of Him in near-tangible waves flicked from that single point to dance along the nerve endings up Heine's arm and wrap itself as close to the inner dog as it could find.

A seeking thread of connection seeking the animal that writhed and fought for release within Heine.

" You are very beautiful, little pup..." He purred. A literal vibration of sound.

" Why do you fight your nature so?"

It was the last straw; the trigger was pulled once, twice, many times until the body would fall over and lay still. This was not his style of elimination, but this being dared to provoke. Heine simply reacted with a trained impulse.

Not even baring his teeth as rage danced in his eyes, the "perfect" experiment repressed the dog that tugged its chains taut. It caused Heine to hunch over and clutch to his head hardly. Back off! he commanded the canine as the master stumbled backwards, groping the walls. The dog persisted, howling in the depths of his mind and piercing his hearing.

His hand reaching a sort of doorknob, Heine broke out into hoarse laughter and mocking the four-pawed demon. "I won't let a monster possess me--you won't win! Not today...not this time."

His voice cut off abruptly, and reverting back to his original plan, Heine burst out of that room and sought out a vacant boat to depart on. He didn't want to remain on a ship with his enemies that desired to draw out something he didn't want to show.

Well that was relatively easy.

With not much effort Xulchilbara had drawn the dog's teeth...and how.
Two shots to the throat, but with such close range those shots moved cleanly through to exit and bury themselves in the wall beyond.
Another two bullets, one shattering his collar bone.
All four in total did manage to move the God in human form back away from Heine, but as Heine himself had surmised, did not kill him.

Blood flowed freely from the broken cavity of His throat, the tendons and larynx a mess of tissue, fluid and so much meat.
One hand went back to steady himself against the far wall, but beyond that it was the measure of surprise from Heine's flare of rage that gave Him pause.
It was a moment, only, but Heine capitalized on that moment, and made his escape.

But the blaze in those wrong eyes kindled to an inferno at the ease with which the demon within awoke, and the 'voice' of Xulchilbara echoed through Heine's mind as the young man ran from himself.
A horrible laugh that scathed and tore at the corners of reason.

yOu RuN nOt ToWaRd SaNcTuArY BuT FrOm YoUrSeLf, LiTtLe DoG.
oNe DaY yOu WiLl ReAlIzE iT Is uSeLeSs tO FiGhT YoUrSeLf...

Slowly, as though the gaping, torn hole in his throat was as nothing, the Red God ( now truly red from the massive bloodflow streaming down his chest) followed the fleeing Heine out on deck.

Another mental onslaught of chaotic ferocity lashed out at the white blond as the God grinned, his mouth showing a snarl of preternaturally sharp teeth.

(())

Vincent startled when he heard gunshots. His initial thought was that the FBI agent might have gotten free and was wreaking havoc... he found his way to where the confrontation between Heine and Xuchilbara had begun.

Again, against his better judgement and by sheer instinct he put his fingers to, tasted the spilled blood; something about the way it reactd in his mouth told him quickly it was Xuchilbara's.

"..?" he muttered, and then hurriedly followed the bloodtrail. "Master!"

Henry was running towards him, too. He hadn't expected anything to really happen- he didn't think the other man would be quite that stupid. But...well, Xulchibara had a way of bringing that out in people.

He stopped just short of Vincent and stood behind him, feeling rather ineffectual. "Are you...okay?" he asked the god. He wondered if he should go after the one that pulled the trigger, despite the many reasons not to.

As thought, he was followed. Heine knew that if he wasn't fast enough, he would have to face a bloody mess. The chalkboard-scraping voice ricocheted in his skull, delaying him, yet apparently there were no lifeboats on this Baroness.

Even through defocusing sight, Heine kept a steady hold on his pistols, now one in each hand. He wasn't cornered just yet; he still had the ocean. Then again, did he want to run away? Flee from something that he was certain would pursue him thereafter? Maybe it was better to drown--he did not, at any cost, want to free the dog, Cerberus as it was called. Ripping a body limb from limb might not solve the problem; it might just worsen it instead.

He kept his calm--no, grappled for it. He maintained a poker face and motionless stance for all but ten seconds when he struck him. Heine did not scream, but he careened backwards and crashed against the wood barrier. Jagged white hair poked between his fingers like thorns as he clamped his head.

When the pain subsided, the oppressed coughed. "It...isn't sanctuary I seek." Then he raised a gun, and with great precision to the head, fired.

This time Xulchilbara did not take the wounds, but instead raise his hand viper-quick and caught the shot in the meat of his palm.

He was far enough away, and had enough control over his flesh that is did not penetrate to hit it's intended mark.
Brightly burning chips of molten glass where eyes should be never left Heine, as the hand lowered, and almost as an afterthought, the opposing one dug into His palm to remove the bullet.

That manic grin widened to show the three neat rows of lengthening fangs in the God's mouth as he walked slowly, inexorably toward Heine.

Another lash of agonizing, nerve-splicing pain whipped out to strike at Heine's mind, this one burrowing and thrashing it's way inside his thoughts, his memories to find proof of this dog's guilt or innocence.

.....And found the blood-hazed image of a woman. A woman in pieces, and Heine the known killer.

The whip of sanity-eroding pain lanced through the man, and the dog again.

YoU aRe GuIlT RiDdEn, BoY. YoU ReEK oF It.

He kept walking. Such is the way of darkness, of the past. Hurt it, mutilate it, push it back, and beat it down, but it will always find you.
It will always know you...

WhAt Do YoU sEeK, Do YoU EvEn kNoW?
YoU aRe A KilLeR, A CrEaTuRe BoRn FrOm BlOoD aNd DaRkNeSs.

Xulchilbara opened his arms in a parody of an invitation to embrace, the blood running like a crimson waterfall down his chest, his feet leaving trails, and bloody footprints in his wake.

YoU aRe OnE oF mInE....

That splicing lash of thought-made-solid turned, and tightened to warp into something else.
Not pain....but rather unadulterated bliss. The release that is born in that first flash of blood ont he tongue, the first aching sweetness of asserting dominance over a subordinate.
The tenderness of a kiss, and the edge of pleasure so intense it is too much to bare that preceeds orgasm.

Vincent nodded, looking to Henry. He was unsure what sort of exchange was going on between Xulchilbara and Heine, as most of Xuchilbara's words were mindsent, brain to brain, to his attacker.
at least they were here, to appear to be backup if Xuchilbara needed it.
Another shot rang out, and Vincent winced, all but feeling it as the bullet struck his Master's hand; his own hand felt a phantom pain, as he was altogether too aware how that felt.
his own hands shaking, he dug for his own gun, but he still didn't know how to shoot it. he looked at Henry, and mindsent can you work this weapon? take it, if you wish..

Vincent would be left unarmed if Henry took the gun, but not entirely defenseless. His Master had shown him how to warp reality that little bit that he could. He reached for Xuchilbara's consciousness and added his own little bit of energy to it, in case the god needed it; use me, he sent, use whatever you need from me.. the invitation was open to all of it; his energy, his knowledge of the rituals... there were spells in there that might be of some use to Xuchilbara even if they still meant nothing to Vincent.

Henry took the gun with a grateful look to Vincent. Yes, this will help a lot. Thanks, Vincent. Yes, this is just what he needed.

He took the safety off and aimed in one smooth motion. "That's enough of that, I think," he said simply to Xulchibara's attacker, and he pulled the trigger. Two or three times. Henry wasn't the best shot in the world, but he was a lot better than he had been the very first time he picked up a gun, almost a year ago.

He was aiming for the man's torso, on the left side. It'd be the most likely to hit- and even if he didn't, he hoped to throw the man off balance a little. Most of all, he wanted him to stop firing.

Frankly, Heine's brain was experiencing an overload. Touching, directly physical or not, was on his hate list. This burning, violating feeling in his mouth paralyzed him despite longing to rip his lips off. That could not be done, however, when lead penetrated his ribcage. Blood spilled from his mouth and dripped down his chin onto his black shirt.

There was no breath; a silent moment, but then.. it awoke. Heine revived, but now as Cerberus. Quietly, the frail-looking body shakily stood, and a glowing red eye glowered between bang partings.

The chosen prey was he with the gun; the dog launched himself with unsupressed force, took the man by the arm, and inflicted a steel grip around his neck. He would wait until he turned a pale blue; then break his weapon-holding arm. The dog smiled in delight; he was free (for now) and accomplishing what his feeble master would not. The taste of blood was savored, and a dry chuckle rolled from his lips.

Being shot had not angered Xulchilbara.
Being mutilated had not angered Xulchilbara.

Atacking Henry?....That angered Xulchilbara.

Henry was struggling against ~~Heine~~ Cerberus, and Cerberus was completly centered on his chosen prey.

The God growled audibly this time. A horrid, grating, wet sound from a half-healed larynx, and faster than most human eyes can follow His hand was around Cerberus' throat, His grip like a steel vice.
Inhuman strength bodily raised Heine off of Henry, and turned the unchained dog to look the Red God in the eye.

NeVEr tUrN yOuR BaCk On Me....aNd NeVeR lAy A HaNd On AnY oF mY cHilDrEn AgIan. the atrocity of his 'voice' scathed and tore at Cerebrus' mind as it had done to Heine's.
A pain that exceeded such strictures of such a small word, and eviserated the consciousness it found before it.
Wave after wave of stygian thought-made-solid poured through Cerberus' brain, tearing and shredding, raping and invading every precious moment the dog or the man held close to his heart.

Nerve-devouring....

....Horror incarnate.

Enough mental anguish to drive both man and the beast within into a full blackout in an instinctual effort to escape the agony.
~~Cerberus~~ Heine went limp, held off of his feet by the God, and then cast aside roughly to land like a ragdoll at the God's feet.

Xulchilbara was still mending the torn muscle, and shattered bone from Heine's first assault, and unless he left this body to become formless once again, he needed more reserves to mend Henry's broken arm.
He looked over at Vincent, his throat still a mass of meat, and his eyes still burning like twin suns, but Vincent had offerred, and so the God accepted.

He gestured Vincent to stand close by, then took his hand, and knelt before where Henry had sat up.

I aM sOrRy, SaRpe, BuT tHiS WilL bE pAinFuL.... he said to Henry, then closed those brightly burning eyes, and layed his free hand over Henry's injured arm.
Xulchilbara drew steadily a measure of Vincent's essence through thier shared bond of blood, and while He could not ensure Vincent would not feel fatigued by the contact, He could ensure Vincent was not badly weakened.

The hand over Henry's arm did not move, but First the human's bone reknitted, then the tendon writhed and crawled to find thier proper place.
Agony blossomed under this hand of power along with knitting bone and sinew, flesh and blood. As a sculptor's tool is clay, the God's tool was flesh, be it in destroying, twisting and perverting, or rejoining, remaking and renewing, the same essence of manipulation applied.

He really shouldn't have been surprised at the speed with which the other man moved. He shouldn't have, but he was. Before he knew it, bone was snapped like dry twig. He'd done his best to push the ~~man~~ dog off of him, but it was the God that actually removed him.

The little bit of Henry that wasn't focused on the pain was disappointed in himself. He'd wanted to help, but now Xulchibara had to protect him.

It's...it's okay. I can handle pain. I'm sorry I- Even that last distracted part had to pay attention when the god started to reknit everything. He held as still as possible, but sometimes he couldn't help jerking around, reacting to the pain. His eyes shut tight and he did his best to wait for it to be over.

Shizune had watched the events unfold in horror, eyes wide as the saw these things, these... not human things... fighting. And the blood and the strange technology... "guns", that she didn't understand. She stayed stock still, unwilling the move as if doing so would attract the attention of the Red God or his followers. But at the lull in the fighting, she knew she had to go.

Bolting from the scene, she rushed back below deck and returned to the cabin she had awoken in, bolting the door and locking it behind her. She breathed deeply, slowly, trying to calm herself. It was dangerous here. Dangerous. She couldn't let any harm come now. Stepping away from the closed door, she went to the opposite wall, beneath the port hole, and crouched. Waiting. Waiting for who would come to come, or the curse day to end.

As it was, the dog writhed, the body shook, and all blacked out. Never before was such a merciless defeat dealt to him, and bitterness sunk as the dog lost.

Beaten, bruised, and broken, Heine was taken away. Not so much a freedom but the solitude he vehemently controlled was torn away from him like they did his weapons. They brought him to a murky stone prison where withing dogs like him were held captive. He too was caged like them, shackled to bars for his own safety; and there he would remain for the time being: vulnerable, sore, and weak.

[ooc: This is where my part of the log ends~]

Giovanni had forced himself to come up when the sound of familiar guns rose to his ears, and now was torn between two horrible forces.

Heine and Xulchibara.

One on the ground, the other healing his new brother...

But some bonds were not easily broken at all.

Dropping to his knees beside Heine's shut-down body, Giovanni carefully collected the guns that had fallen from his hands and arranged his body in a more comfortable position.

[ooc: Just to get my two cents in~]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Open Log for Two Pirate Ships Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject