Sometimes we long for the nostalgia of things unknown,
of lands forgotten or those visited during the fever of dreams.
of lands forgotten or those visited during the fever of dreams.
At times, longing for the gleam of yellow suns upon terraces of translucent marble,
mocking the windless waters of lakes unfathomably calm.
mocking the windless waters of lakes unfathomably calm.
Or seeking lost, legendary palaces of serpentine,
silver and ebony from the most desirous of nightmares....
silver and ebony from the most desirous of nightmares....
Uachauguthlo System IV- U'rsthollosha Spiral
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
Strange Reflections: The Phantoms of Reverie
T.H.E H.E.A.R.T O.F C.E.L.E.B.R.A.T.I.O.N
The Imperial Palace's frame delved deep beneath the scintillating parapets with adjacent structures, its roots thrust deep into the dense substratum of the planet. Constructed of polished crystalline-black metals and mirrored crystals, sparkling in the blazing illuminations from phosphorescent panels, electro-luminescence strips and moonlight. Various obelisks erupting from the face of the citadel eternally fixed to claim the stars. Filled with numerous antechambers serving an assortment of functions, including data towers storing classified and restricted files from across known and unknown galaxies outside of the Uachauguthlo System, including exploration surveys and space charts which could be exceptionally precarious if fallen into questionable hands.
Poignant, gliding across the diminished leathers as the computerized drone of the hovercrafts door lifted to allow Xytrinah's exit. Placid zephyrs playing with the strands of hair, tossing them back in ethereal kisses where then cold wind-talons raked as if to flay the beauty away from sinew only to be starved of desires and such primordial pleasures. Manicured brow arching while glancing over the armored guards, their veritable 'savage images' of vicious sub-species glimmering in the approach of ebonized mirrors casting back the horror of their forms, but to her there was much to admire in the brutal savagery of the race; deemed beautiful in its own rights.
Entering prominently with several armed escorts into the grand corridor heavily illuminated large transparisteel panes allowing natural light to permeate, walls of black stone and red-tinted cut-glass windows gave a multi-dimensional appeal. Lining the Corridor was a symmetrical row of ophidian rare and exotic Ch'kianchiai trees. Black foliage, fine and intricate, diaphanous as the spiders web with petals the shades of livid rose, and bluish-purple like hues of putrefying flesh. Occasionally shifting colours, provoked by movement and vibrations within the atmosphere. Although highly decorative and fascinating, unknowingly they also served a venefic and sinister purpose: sentient intelligence able to decipher even the most skilled and hidden of thoughts. Resonance-animated flora, triggering rapid changes in depth of colour... intricate guardians in their own uniqueness.
Behind the wake of graceful saunter, sweeping... shifting trails of exquisite lace, woven silk of offering epicurean delight parted to reveal contours of achromatic flesh, exposed limbs that breathed the quintessence of her being. Fitted gown featuring a high mandarin keyhole back and a fishtail train finished delicately with sprinkled interwoven black pearls and diamonds. Long ravenesque black hair cascading like silk over delicate frame, pulled back to expose the beauty of fine chiselled features. Oracular mirrors benighted in the luminosity that was passed, obsidian shades, accentuated by highlight of black and golden kohl, providing the exotic allure and sultry splendor of all that was woman.
Branching off from the main hall and led to the western face of the central building towards the convocation hall and the palatial balustrade. With an unobstructed 360 degree view one could appreciate the beauty of the cityscape, the lavish gardens of Noctaean flowers and twisted black trees with countless pools and fountains bright, the indigo ocean with spectral cities beneath the calm waters. Celebrations were well underway, for the kindling of such amours there were wines, intoxicating cordials offered with infused aphrodisiacs already on presentation to the inquisitive palate. Andante pleasant musical scores entwined with electronic-transmuted, helix-like melodical tempo and loving embraces of inspirational verse.
Attending the return of obeisance with a polite nod and charmed simper, personal guards removing themself from the juxtaposed position at her side as she moved to partake in polite conversation with those of influence within the system. Avoiding politics in addition to what she thought was inappropriate discussion of business as well as military strategy with the gesture of a light-hearted laugh before wandering through the wealth of crowd. Knowing that imminent plans debated during events that entertained a score of unverified powers yet to state which side they intended to position themselves or who they intended to loyally serve. Revealing eyes, like polished black gem stones of the grave at midnight sans moonlight and stars, passed from official to their accompanying flowers, jeweled and dressed to demonstrate wealth and opulence.
Glancing over statuettes in half-veiled alcoves; gilded painted wall panels depicting bestial loves, and ancient mythologies. Hired singers of all sexes, sang diversely erotic songs while dancers whose contortions were calculated to restore the outworn senses when all else had failed. A lurid affair, slender brow arching at the mass of swarming bodies, climbing over the other in Ophiolatreian worship as a dark smirk manifested over lustrous lips of cherry and opium. Such things were difficult not to appreciate for most, the escalating energies rising like smoke to the ceilings, musky overtones of sweat and seduction- enough to fuel the veiled fervor of even the potent of iron of will.
With a current half-emptied cup in hand, void of wine or the passion for it to dance over painted lips. Electing to observe from the balcony and watch the sporadic flashes of fireworks over the main boulevards of the city and exploding over the ocean. Bypassing the social crowd gathering to fan the ego in shouts and boasts of success. Averting gaze involuntarily from some couples too shameless or too drunk to seek the shadows of privacy for their dalliance. Satiety had claimed its mistress, feeling oddly withdrawn from the morass of wine and flesh into which offered nothing to soothe the tempest. Feeling as if the only one standing on this alien shore beyond the waters of an ever- increasing separation.
Everywhere throughout the city, there were wildly flaming lights, and the ribaldry of boisterous voices, and the strident moan of pulsing of music. There was feasting in the great squares, and the doorways of immemorial houses poured out a flood of illumination, tumults of laughter and melody, offering their hospitality to all who might choose to enter. In the huge temples of former aeons; delirious rites were done to the 'Old Ones' who stared forth with unchanging eyes the heavens; priests and worshipers drugging themselves with terrible opiates, seeking the stupefying ecstasy of material abandonment to a frenzy both carnal and pious.
"What troubles you?" It was Senator Kzora, flushed with the glow of drunken jubilation. Ashen-haired, rather corpulent in build and towered above her placing an affectionate hand on Xytrinah's shoulder, hoisting aloft with the other that licentious and fescenninely graven quart crystalline glass of sweet decadent wine, eschewing the drugged and violent liquors often preferred by the voluptuaries of Empora-Noctae. "Is it troubles of the heart or discontented covetousness? We have cures here for both. You have only to name your ailment and seek the opiate to cure." Kzora's question and answer to his own inspired a laugh, then shaking her head at the humour of his words. Even as he gave a puzzled expression. Each twist and turn of translation was enough in his implications that was worthy of the laughter. Slender digits plucking the full glass from Kzora's hand; quickly lifting it to her own lips in order to silence herself before countering and insulting the man further with yet another response of amusement. Imbibing the drink completely, despite the protests of him attempting to reward himself the cup back and the "tut" and "tch" of vocal clicks and wordless stuttering.
"There is no medicine of this world, for what afflicts me. As for love..." She laughed again, "I have ceased to care of its covetousness or the fires fanned by the passions of its unrequited or requited wants. I can taste only the dregs in every cup and the tedium of it lurks on every after-thought." Waving a flippant gesture to chase the bitterness of her words before continuing. "Besides, I have been reading some of your verses as of late. You really should keep with politics and cease the verses of poetry... your subject material, although quaint.... maggots, phantoms and disembodied love is enough to grant healthy men colic, women to throw themselves off cliffs! Even myself, I require at least an ocean of zhdozqiach after reading each one to cure the melancholy of it."
Kzora shook his head commiserately. "Though I have attained to possibly more than twice your years, Empress." Silver eyes looking her up and down unsure of his comment concerning age knowing looks can be incredibly deceiving and unsure of even what title to use in addressing less formally without making assumption. "Despite my works. I am satisfied with what I see and hear and touch. Good juicy meat, love, women, death, wine, the songs of full-throated singers, are enough for me. Life and death should be celebrated and enjoyed even in times of war; it gives hope and builds spirits for we can never know what tomorrow brings, even if the Necri way is rather, morose." Resting his stout frame against the pillars of the arched entrance, regardless of hair colour and haggard features, not appearing elderly, though his very aura indicated an advanced age which belied his deportment.
"In the drums of slumber", she mused and smiled a little at the mention of 'Death'. "My appearance betrays and misleads. But we shall overlook such sleights. Valued friend, I have taken souls as death itself, clasped devotion far more than just a simple love, known delights too keen for the heart and its fires too hot for the flesh to sustain. Do such emotions have any source, outside the lustful heart itself so eager but ever thirsting? I would give much for its return; but in the meantime I will reach beyond the stars into doomed worlds undreamt of by mortal minds and claim my victories..." Dark wisps of nostalgia carried her further into the labyrinths of memory, back where there were only the joys of contentment, and the appreciations for things like celebrations and festivals didn't look as if to find a home here.
Changing to her formal but sanguine vocal style, leaning over towards a passing waiter, Graciously plucking a glass of zhdozqiach from the golden tray with a firm unyielding smile that made most uneasy in its misgivings, "Gratitude for such kind hospitalities...", emphasis placed on 'kind' with a coquettish dark ambiance. Fluid hues of purplish-red, rich wine prepared by arcane fermentations and possessing a complex aroma and palatable infusion of fruits spices, opiate blossoms and sweet decadence only known to this spiral.
"Let what is past flow away downstream. Enjoy your evening, Kzora, Fulfill all your heart's desire. If indeed it is our last to partake of wine and such things you speak, and least we can say we lived well." Raising the crystalline glass towards him in the offering of a toast. Ascending the rim of glass to her sanguine lips, wine finally finding the parched palate where some words still sat on the tip of tongue. Taste, sweetened acidity, tannins bringing forth the other sensations of the liquid.
Right hand extended to offer a the elderly gentleman the back of her hand while wishing him a pleasurable evening. Kzora bestowed a single kiss to the delicate perfumed skin. An offering of pleasantries along with blessings was a customary habit of the Necri regardless of their fearsome reputation as adept sorcerers and necromancers. She found them to be quite agreeable and enjoyed their company when the moment presented itself. With the last exchange of a smile, turning to locate one of the waiters, moving swiftly to obtain a bottle of wine, then making her way back out across the landing, shaking her head towards the guarded escorts signalling to them that their presence was not required.
Waning like amber'd candlelight, in the long night of time,
where legends are the last glimpse of fidelity... in a world, rife and ripe with Darkness.
[NPC's and Names of Relevance: Senator Kzora- Imperial Senate]
The Multiverse
Everywhere yet nowhere.
Silenced whispers pierced the Aeheric energy ebbing and flowing from one luminous orb to the next. A swirl of blues laced with silver dancing in arcs across the energy laden globules, spewing forth across a landscape immeasurable in a realm where time only existed in the form of progression. It was this twisted unknown realm the Vigils called home. Forever watching, they had stood the test of eons, watched as universes blossomed into existence only to wither and fall into disarray, waited whilst entropy had took its course to wilt and balance the energy which remained. It was here where the information carriers of all things were plucked like strings on a loom, where the warping of all which was natural was felt in vibration form.
No words were mentioned, only the telepathic link through as each subconscious passed information to the next, omnipotent as they worked towards their common goal, the disruption which had contorted the very fabric of space time. War was afoot, with wave upon wave of devastation swept forth the disadvantaged fleet, as one illustrious Empress staked her claim against an entire system of worlds. It wasn’t until the ultimate had been released, had they been able to pinpoint her location. The impulse of ultraviolet sweeping rippling across space time acting as sonar, from everywhere they traced back with precision.
Uachauguthlo System IV- U'rsthollosha Spiral
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
Explosions tore the inky black sky asunder, a myriad of vibrant colours expanding whilst the crowd mouths gaped, letting out the sound of awe at the ceremonial firepower released on such a day. Imperial day, the anniversary of the newly formed empire now free from the alleged Shen tyranny, the skies lit with the celebrations of the first year of independence. On such a day, fitting, as the demonic rituals which accompany any often highly publicised festivity could not off predicted that the he would find foot upon the reams of artificial victory which spread forth.
The city highly industrialised, the smells of sulphur rife within an air whose atmosphere proved too toxic for even water to remain pure, a world which with the ascent of onyx skyscrapers and hovering cars, where technology had fought and beat back the primal mother until she was forced to retreat into the black subterranean. Still even in such domain was she not safe, the huge towers supports buried deep with her, a tainted prison for her to weep at has become of her world.
The city highly industrialised, the smells of sulphur rife within an air whose atmosphere proved too toxic for even water to remain pure, a world which with the ascent of onyx skyscrapers and hovering cars, where technology had fought and beat back the primal mother until she was forced to retreat into the black subterranean. Still even in such domain was she not safe, the huge towers supports buried deep with her, a tainted prison for her to weep at has become of her world.
Yet even in a world of concrete and crystal havens still remained, nurtured even with trees dwarfed by design, where the lavish of luxury extended from the four walls and into the surrounding gardens of the Imperial Palace. The impromptu display of primitive gun powder could be barely seen from his position underneath one of the many sprouts of wood and leaf outer reaches of the freshly cut lawn, where the turrets were sprinklers and their enemy heat. It was here, from marvelling at the colours reaching above the obelisks of study and work, to where crystalline blue hues flittered from inky black, to artificially bathed balcony.
It was doubtful that anyone had spotted his arrival, no guards had come rushing to the almost ritualistic scene and no pulses of panic or authoritarian command could be heard aimed at the somewhat intruder. His entrance a marvel as the shadows twisted away from their natural prisons to defy the light which held them back, the inky black substance meandering through the labyrinth of blades of grass until, just like a puddle would form in the rain, the tar like liquid obsidian would ripple and glimmer. It was from this that he would rise, a reverse waterfall rebelling against its physical constraints to rise to just over five and a half foot before it tumbled back into the puddle beneath newly formed claws.
ZuFeng had arrived and with him came the gentle calmness of what was around, the temperature from matter which shook so furiously now subdued as he sought control, the winds carrying a bitter frost with air markedly bitter from what it was before. To most he was hidden, slinking within the shadows of birth allowing the onyx cloak which slivered around his skeletal frame to camouflage against any intruding eyes. Darkness personified he stood, elongated digits interloping with their opposite other across his chest, buried deep within the elongated sleeves, the hood pulled up and over his head allowing no discernable features to release. Save for the deathly pale stare of crystal like hues, watching, waiting as she continued her conversation on the balcony.
ZuFeng had arrived and with him came the gentle calmness of what was around, the temperature from matter which shook so furiously now subdued as he sought control, the winds carrying a bitter frost with air markedly bitter from what it was before. To most he was hidden, slinking within the shadows of birth allowing the onyx cloak which slivered around his skeletal frame to camouflage against any intruding eyes. Darkness personified he stood, elongated digits interloping with their opposite other across his chest, buried deep within the elongated sleeves, the hood pulled up and over his head allowing no discernable features to release. Save for the deathly pale stare of crystal like hues, watching, waiting as she continued her conversation on the balcony.
Within the oversized sleeves nimble digits began to twitch, the celestials eyes closing as he played at the strings of sound. Picking at the waves he twisted to his own means, enhancing to flow into his mind; interpreting as if a fly on the wall listening to a conversation which once learned, was irrelevant. Her partner a politician with a fancy for poetry, the words often as macabre and toxic as her own personality if her assessment was to be duly believed. The words tore a smile through wicked dry lips, almost. Through tedious obvious necessities the secreted Imperial son stood vigil, silent, watching, listening until the moment she had dismissed one and to greet another.
The politician’s life at the gala of debauchery, a busy one, greeting this and that with falseness only a few could hope to garner away from her true nature. He knew her, knew her better than most of those she held close to her, Xytrinah was talented, but had fooled all by her outward appearance, except him. A short conversation was all that was needed, a conversation where little was revealed and yet all was told, where generalities spoke louder than any precise statement. The information garnered from the diplomat, or so his brother is called amongst kin, a talented wordsmith with which one could twist the truth from any falsehood. He no longer held the subconscious council that his father once offered.
The politician’s life at the gala of debauchery, a busy one, greeting this and that with falseness only a few could hope to garner away from her true nature. He knew her, knew her better than most of those she held close to her, Xytrinah was talented, but had fooled all by her outward appearance, except him. A short conversation was all that was needed, a conversation where little was revealed and yet all was told, where generalities spoke louder than any precise statement. The information garnered from the diplomat, or so his brother is called amongst kin, a talented wordsmith with which one could twist the truth from any falsehood. He no longer held the subconscious council that his father once offered.
His name has ringed through the ages in many different dialects in almost all forms of intelligent life. ZuFeng's influence spread further than the constraints of any universe. Flowing seamlessly from one to the next this creature of myth and legend who; whilst sating a blood lust, had created and lived within the grandeurs of godlike status. Now, much later on with millennia between what was and what is now, had come to see the women who had taken on such a moniker. This woman, despite meeting his brother, was known for having a name famed enough to travel through multiple airwaves. It held firm surprisingly, on a measurable tip of the tongue of life within this universe. Today was the day that she would meet the one who held the moniker for much longer. Today he would meet his successor.
Through the picking and plucking of the same sound as before, the nonchalant wave at her guards to leave her buried within the bottle of fermented liquor she had just taken, the thunderous sounds of the sky lighting had changed form. The echoes of power broken, split into the silvery serpentine tongue of a thousand souls. Each one with their words repeated a thousand times by the next into almost incoherence, yet once they delved into her, and only hers, ears; they would speak with a chilling clarity.
“You do not belong here.” The voices called through the revelry of those around, from everywhere and nowhere they came until just over her shoulder, she would feel their silky tongues. “These people do not understand you.” Every syllable exaggerated, every ‘s’ elongated with sinister wraith like undertones. “I understand you.”
His eyes opened to stare forth at the balcony once more, the sounds of fire lighting up the sky continued with the din of jubilation and drunken excitement returning with a strengthened wave, one to knock those of lesser minds of their feet. Of course she would not, it would not surprise if she stood firm, yet the source was held within angelic blue hues focused on her, the shadows shimmering around his onyx visage. She would listen, at least long enough for the transportation links.
Part III
Written by Xytrinah |Black Orchid Phoenix Empress|.
"To consume all burden of old affliction
whose blooms are grown of archaic sin and death the sap that founts and flows..."
whose blooms are grown of archaic sin and death the sap that founts and flows..."
Necromant zephyr fondly stroked along the contours of Xytrinah's face hidden beneath the ebony hyalescence of fretful flowing streams. The free hand, not bearing the bottle of Zhdozqiach, raking back the silky tresses... the counsel of familiarity was just as scented as the violaceous orchid-like flowers in the undercurrents of the bitter tempests below. Apertures miming some ambiguous appellation, extending neural connections to the Mind-hive Hyperband Relay Network, entwining communications not only with Bio-Encryptions but also Cellular Scanners affixed to signatures to confirm suspicions of possible 'hostile arrivals'.
It was an automatic response to send out details armed escorts during Imperial celebrations (naturally), authority of superiority over all other system fleets obvious in the manner of her directives. Instructing the system control command of the Cykretha Military Base situated on the obsidian surface of Xothasteg: the pale resplendent luminary closest to the Necropolis World, Zaoth-Vhlorrhoa, then instructing that all communications be redirected to her, but instruction in regards to quarantine procedures and protocols to be immediately initialized by military force if need be.
The armed soldier had no reason to address her directly, and complied with Xytrinah's orders like the devoted loyalists in which they were. No doubt they too would have preferred being amongst the extravagant celebrations that stretched system wide. From luxurious parties to the more exclusive revelry of the most influential esthetic opulent Pleasure Worlds captivated in their own ceremonial oeuvres; of eternal devouring, sex, blood, death, reverence, harvest and sendal. It was true, the system was rejoicing- illustrated pictorials lit the skies with their unusual displays of colours and chosen emblems of conquest and victory from planet to megastructure alike.
Xytrinah exhaled a slow breath that resembled more tedium than approbation, beholding the glittering fireworks reflecting in her own obsidian-like eyes; making them appear even more impenetrable against the starry night sky. Flowers of fire exploded into the swirling darkness, each petal flashed sparks of mercurial and amaranthine, bursting to devour the entirety of the sable firmament, fading and rising again, co-joined with Imperial emblems in celebration to those who aided in the subjugation of the Shen Empire. It all painted a rather imperative and significant message. The sporadic flashes claiming even the stars above, that dimmed and waned to their honours.
Evening heavens usually divided to lashings of black rivulet and ecstatic tongue; when lachrymose songs of darkness procured, schismatic and fervent to the tremors of expectancy that murmur longingly to the mantles of primal desire. These things here were not so. When self-professed quiet-types harp over aversions, and the glories appeared even less 'glorious', nothing but spilled foetid appraisals over dark shores. Silences of golden rule grew tarnished with evident contradiction, and the caustic odour of endless inconsistencies blessed the wrist of the harbinger; like perfumed death.
Greeting it all with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, black regalement shifting around the sinuous curves of Xytrinah's form resembling 'liquid darkness' Reverent fantasmagoric pomps, deferring murmurs of violence, seduction- perverse adoration uncontested, for here she within her elements. A sadness of its own. Rosewater cheeks took on a phantom flush, flambeaus sparkled with the gleam similar to mortuary tapers as more artistic explosions took over the skies, and fell like the very dark stars themselves into silence consuming the veils of night. There, the electric-ember hung suspended in animation, motionless... even mute of sound for a few fleeting moments that seemed like eons.
Even the music changed, as did all sound into one conglomerated orchestra echoing from the sullen throats of stone- amid strong, a sombre music. Bizarre and sonorous, like the singing of black stars, or a litany of gods that invoke oblivion; a symphony that trilled the city to its heart of adamant, and trembled till the last echoes of its jubilation. Terrible as the trumpets of doom, one with the vespers of perpetuity. "You do not belong here." Manicured brow arching while ebonized eyes narrowed at the onxy-laden heavens, when the petals of stars fell, taking on a black splendour of porphyritic appearance. Lidless implacable eyes of staring chaos staring down upon her, reminiscent to the petrified despair of those who have gazed too long on the infinite.
"Then where is it I belong?" Canting features to the side exposing slender landscapes of nape casting shadows across monochromatic flesh. Rejoinder came with a hushed lilt not of voice but one that transcended through the darkened webs of the vespers: tapestries interlacing the constructs of her own complex compositions and energies. "These people do not understand you, but I do." A dark smile bore life over sanguine lips, spreading leisurely from lustrous crescents to the sharp contours of cheekbone.
Laces of metamorphic shadows fell and shifted, over materializing embodiment of exquisite features that even Aphrodites description paled by far in comparison. Progressively haughtiness of chin ascended. Grandiose and majestic, as if the traits of the Black Phoenix: The Black Orchid could present itself as anything but sublime and august, but also remaining reverential, afterall Xytrinah saw no means of impertinence. "These peoples are only ashes waiting for the carnivorous winds to ravage them and scatter their illusions of life across the uncaring cosmos. None have ever understood me; including yourself."
Laces of metamorphic shadows fell and shifted, over materializing embodiment of exquisite features that even Aphrodites description paled by far in comparison. Progressively haughtiness of chin ascended. Grandiose and majestic, as if the traits of the Black Phoenix: The Black Orchid could present itself as anything but sublime and august, but also remaining reverential, afterall Xytrinah saw no means of impertinence. "These peoples are only ashes waiting for the carnivorous winds to ravage them and scatter their illusions of life across the uncaring cosmos. None have ever understood me; including yourself."
Clandestine dialogue shared betwixt the two, her and her madness, or some arcane darkness for the first time flexing its supremacy almost too easy over a place that even the Outer Gods could influence or sway. Be it madness, elucidation or fate, Xytrinah did not tremble in the weight of this strange yet oddly familiar manifestation, "I am glad 'they' do not understand me, for to understand me, they would have to flay their worthless flesh from their bones, drain the last drop of their blood, blind their sight with their gnarled talons and for eternity consume themselves until the winds of oblivion die with the lst of the black suns. Only then, will they truly be worthy enough to see me."
Like portending daggers Xytrinah's eyes narrowed, perforating the profuse molasses depths. There was no direct definition to what 'people' were being referred to, however tense were those diabolical fingers rapping against the rigid structure of the railing, not unnerved but not altogether complacent when tones drew forth ominous whispers which tickled over scented skin.
Like portending daggers Xytrinah's eyes narrowed, perforating the profuse molasses depths. There was no direct definition to what 'people' were being referred to, however tense were those diabolical fingers rapping against the rigid structure of the railing, not unnerved but not altogether complacent when tones drew forth ominous whispers which tickled over scented skin.
Close. Too close for her own private comfort, virtually intimate in strategy. "I understand you." If it had been a figure standing behind Xytrinah perhaps she would have leaned back and basked in the ambiance of physical presence and the sinister connotations which were highly suggested not just in meeting but also in gesture; "If you understood me, you would have no need to secrete your presence, and instead grant me at least the honour to address the only one whom has managed to arrive here, flawlessly undetected of guard and even evaded my eyes, or other means of detection. Perhaps I 'allowed' you to haunt me." Accentuation placed upon the 'allow' placing control back in her hands along with the declaration he was there only there because she permitted it.
"To understand me above all others, is to possess the knowledge in which they never have exhumed due to their own neglects. So tell me, what is it you profess to understand, then bask in the raptures, that is me, we, them or us.?" If seductive plumes of honeyed notes could not draw out this dark mysterious traveller, then perhaps the death-kneel of an entire worlds citizens would?
Right hand digits plucked up the bottle in a motion that escaped the normal capture of eyesight, pouring a glass half to the brim and leaving it there upon the stage. A few steps elegantly taken back in the pendulum motion of hips and the reverberation of stiletto heel to crystalline surface. "If you understand me, perhaps I can persuade you to share a toast? Unless it is more symbiotic musing you wish to seek and waste the remaining of my evening with riddles and droll?"
Company had been nothing but mundane, from the typical military presence and the civil servant. Then to those who had uttered similar verse in the guise of lover- now exposed to the perfidious ingrates of their real masks and inferiority. So of course when an unknown reveals an eclipsed aspect of its power over a place that is not its own, of course it would stir inquisitiveness.
Company had been nothing but mundane, from the typical military presence and the civil servant. Then to those who had uttered similar verse in the guise of lover- now exposed to the perfidious ingrates of their real masks and inferiority. So of course when an unknown reveals an eclipsed aspect of its power over a place that is not its own, of course it would stir inquisitiveness.
"But of course. If you truly wanted my coordinates- perhaps you should try asking....." Coldness, condensed spectral plumes billowed twixt lips the stained passions of blood and wine, more now the colour of hyacinth; or the death-stained apertures of drowned worlds.
|Behind every thing a shadow lies; and beauty hath ever its perilous cost:
Within the moonlight-flooded skies, where diadem sits upon the brow like a crown,
and the tempest howls its battle-cries in doom-preparing.
Latterly requited from missions of destruction,
pause amid the cognizance illuminations to sift from their somber
and tremendous vans the pale ashes of annihilated stars.|
Part IV
Written by ZuFeng Uarurti |Shen Imperial|
Betwixt the pin prick stars and the multiple lunar globes, a child of celestial design stood firm to her charms.
Cerulean swirls observed porcelain skin reflecting the spectacular war of colour rending the skies above. Her visage, one of malevolent beauty, enraptured not by what was above, but what was lurking within the shadows. Death, or the harbinger there off, with contrasting beauty beyond the monstrous skeletal visage of his avatar, to those who could pierce through the veil of obscurity. His mind, the subconscious ever expanding, linked to a realm far beyond the one reptilian feet stood upon, beyond the confines of what was physical, of reality itself. The Multiverse.
Her words, plucked and woven from the waves reverberating from where none could hear as they travelled and petered out into non-existence into preternatural silence. A synthetic ploy to twist her own reality away from the hedonistic debauchery of the powerful and wealthy. No, a new power had stepped foot on their world, one which reeked of predatory nature, enough to cause any unable to stand to its will to scarper back to the undergrowth, never escaping the fear that one of his kind bought.
A deep breath, unneeded and yet pleasurable, tasting the chill which hung in the air. Noticeable now as even the strongest mortal link sought refuge from its unrelenting onslaught, leather jackets zipped tight whilst arms bought to huddle against the chest, the steam pouring forth from intermingling bodies to rise in plumes to fight back the unwelcome cold. She of course was not mortal, such insignificant thoughts did peak his interest, yet the power to nonchalantly render planets to dust without conscience. It attracted him.
A deep breath, unneeded and yet pleasurable, tasting the chill which hung in the air. Noticeable now as even the strongest mortal link sought refuge from its unrelenting onslaught, leather jackets zipped tight whilst arms bought to huddle against the chest, the steam pouring forth from intermingling bodies to rise in plumes to fight back the unwelcome cold. She of course was not mortal, such insignificant thoughts did peak his interest, yet the power to nonchalantly render planets to dust without conscience. It attracted him.
Wicked lips cracked an arid smirk, emotion hard to pull from one yet here it was; amusement at the thought of destruction and chaos where entropic values hastened to bring order from chaos. It was this, or the creatures which sought to quicken the ultimate of endings, where he found solace. His area of study was life in all its variants, where the natural order of right and wrong is blurred by the ultimate of scientific demise. A quest which had bought him to this world, to her words which broke through physical to caress the mind.
No response, to each of his simple statements a flurry of articulate sensuality reached out to caress the very fibre of his being. Words which, with sultry tones, called upon to reveal himself, to bait him out of the shadows which camouflaged the darkness stood, which masked the brittle blades of grass sheltered by the unnatural frost. All the while he stood, with each wave twisted, where sound was bent and broken by elongated digits weaving the metaphorical loom, he watched to study. His nature was to read, to analyse with clandestine accuracy, the subconscious hints which everybody would drop. The subtle shift in gesture, the mannerism displayed when taking a sip from the crystal chalice, the fingers whitening, cracking the porcelain as the tense emotion of being watched by something unknown took form in a few steps backwards.
He appeared beside her, "Xytrinah" the deathly chorus which followed him raised around her once more, their sinister nature caressing her ears with undead tongues, nor would he call her Empress. "Your words do not mask your nature; the shadows have disobeyed, and your savagery has revealed itself to countless. But there will come a time that none will get close to you, for this very reason. Could you exist alone in the bitter cosmos?" Silence once more surrounded her, eerie in its supernatural splendour whilst the world carried on around. "Your displays of weaponry, this faรงade of power which you hold so dear, your potential dwarves these, even I know that. A simple son from a once great man."
The obsidian figure shrouded in mist causing the air to shimmer around skeletal frame, the robe which clung to him, flowing around in constant fluidity, tumbling down to the shadows which followed him obediently. "A toast in celebration?" The rhetorical whispers rose soon after, flowing from impenetrable shadow without any movement from his lips, instead simply pale blue hues watching from underneath the hood. "Perhaps we should mourn. Mourn that one so beautiful, so rife with power, has settled for a life of bitterness, grudge and destruction.."
Honeyed words oozing from his lips. If she had known anything of the man, she would have noticed something else was different about him. "I will not speak in riddles, nor will I hide my intentions from you, such things are frivolous when dealing with beings such as us." Taking a short pause, allowing the truth of the statement to settle within her mind. ZuFeng paused once again though this time not for dramatic effect, merely he was searching through the depths of his eidetic mind recalling the event. It appeared, so clear yet so long ago, a smile forming upon his perfectly plain lips.
Honeyed words oozing from his lips. If she had known anything of the man, she would have noticed something else was different about him. "I will not speak in riddles, nor will I hide my intentions from you, such things are frivolous when dealing with beings such as us." Taking a short pause, allowing the truth of the statement to settle within her mind. ZuFeng paused once again though this time not for dramatic effect, merely he was searching through the depths of his eidetic mind recalling the event. It appeared, so clear yet so long ago, a smile forming upon his perfectly plain lips.
Death fallen upon his mind with it's repulsive stench so vivid it would make those of lesser minds turn a nose, a response to his little intrusion. There was no response however, not even the slightest of nervous twitches registered within his bio-mechanical frame at such savagery of the fallen empire. In truth he was used to it, death was an inevitable part of life and even in the midst of destruction there was a beauty in the symmetry it held with it's counterpart. More so it held an amusing insight. Luminescent eyes focused upon each small movement she made, body language being an important part in all communications, She was extremely charming, what man wouldn't be captivated by them, even just a little? If anything she was the most exquisite being he had ever laid eyes upon, however, in this circumstance none of that could matter.
Energies entwined, crashing against his form in waves of pure power, met only by the continuous stream sent forth naturally by himself, an energy signature which could not be felt just on their world, but throughout the spirals. No doubt this could be felt, the meeting of the two sending ripples through the arcane web, a source that possibly could be felt greater than any one single system that connected to the threads. A very distinct signature that only those that knew who the puppeteer was could determine. He used any being that could possible get himself close to those of interest. His eyes had searched for her for a long time.
"What does any of this have to offer you?" He chuckled slightly, as he said the words it was starting to make sense. "Fate has a funny way off bringing up the past." Pausing once more turning his head back to her, studying her for a second. It was strange, the waves he felt were like nothing he had ever seen before. "I shall leave you to your evening, Xytrinah. Apologies that I broken your moment of peace. But we will continue with this some other time." Pausing again he looked up to her, obsidian optics focused upon her own crystalline eyes , the fact at least quite a large part of his plan had failed miserably and now he decided it best to retreat and rethink strategy. "Another time, then."
Part V
Written by Xytrinah |Black Orchid Phoenix Empress|.
"In all things there exists a fire; a memorable binding of both rose and thorn,
the perfumed aroma of risk and the eternal scratch of heavens, brings the reminder of it."
Impact of force or energy did not compel movement of tempestuous winds that ravaged the cities, throwing people from their feet as if they were mere leaves and ashes scattered by god-like purulent violence. It was only something she could admire, regardless of its intrusive nature over the people still finding footing from the invisible pressure rendering them feeble as paper dolls. Even the tall black-crystalline buildings wavered, ripples of barriers diluting to appear as imperfect illusion- temporal schism. Eliciting fragmentation in the 'reality' of the world making it seem nothing more than a false utopia.
When the unquestionable insidious natures of force and power were revealed, the abject past no longer held any relevance, and the broken foolishness of that past revealed; the most beautiful and defining lesson of all. Memories became more absurd, she could have loathed him for making it unashamedly obvious. Black Lotus eyes with a tinge of mercurial sheen; gaze reminiscent to the onyx pastures of interstellar space eternally ice-bound in this snuffed-starlight affixed intensely on where Xytrinah had detected his initial arrival from darkness to a structure of manifestation. No qualm to mind it was just a messenger, and not the true form of the omnipotent traveller.
Erstwhile nebulas and maelstroms could have torn the entire world apart in the rage and wraith of challenging rivalry. There was no reason to provide restraint or unwelcoming arms taken by guards seen and unseen, candidly demonstrated , that regardless of lack of escort of watchful perceptions. Xytrinah was well within her comforts here; she was home. Evolution and Death, had already come to bare its celebrations of liberation in the face of destruction. In fact the entire system was now commemorating that very idealism of dedicated emancipation, through war and despotism.
Even the luminosity of Xytrinah's skin took on a more madreperl star-like quality, pale in reverie to the lilies that bloomed over battle-stained grounds. Wintry breaths and icy infliction's did not bother her greatly, but it did bring concern towards its purpose, in particular the name vocalized 'Xytrinah'. It caused her to swallow hard behind the guise of poised glass to mouth, wine concealing the bittersweet disdain of the recognition intimately. She had no care for it.
The cradle of her thoughts faded away from all decode, clouding themselves amidst the ebony vapours- retreating to the obscurity of her inner darkness but it left a wound over statuesque features. Every indignation, no matter how subsidiary, owes its foundation to nostalgias murderous stab.
Wounds left behind by the act are never more devastating than when used as the prelude to tempt; ¦bearing the mark of the hopeless, the unfaithful and the disloyal. The lure that emanates the greatest of temptation, is the uncontested triumph of irreverence. "I evoke a time that name, was only ever spoken intimately, by those closest to me and not in such openness from strangers. It's highly inappropriate, especially from the likes such as yourself... celestial."
A sneer edged over poppy-tinted lips effervescent with the patina of grape, again a melodious timbre escaping twixt tiers of ivory, like honey delivered by a chalice of bee-stings. Not here to honour the past, remember some disillusion of absent days, nor was she about to place an obstacle in the way of progress. Understanding it better than perhaps most that evolution was necessary for survival and with change comes fruition - it is what separated man from beast, and man from parasite. Technically never been alive nor born of any physical world, only a black star that had crumbled beneath two colliding voids, Xytrinah did not recognize any prolific status privately, her purpose was not to preach the romanticism of change or the glories of dark days.
"Change doesn't rotate on the wheels of inevitability, or names sung on battlefields, it comes through continuous struggle. And so, essentially backs must be straightened and work for liberation. Ones past should not define them, but never negligent that one's past cannot ride them unless their back is bent towards it." Unruffled dialogue given in spite of having no immediate reasons for its origins. A liberated opinion, an oracle insight that hid secrets interwoven with elegantly articulated words, each rolling off the tongue seductively. Wine diffused in the light and shadows, resembling shimmering liquid rubies, lapping against tongue: the talk of ages, dust and shades. There poised in statuesque still-life- gaze lost to the darkness.
Grandeur and even perhaps just the slightest hint of arrogance exhibited in the stance of sophistication. Crystal resting on sweet flesh, again tilting to allow the ambrosia to tickle against palate, with the daintiest of sips, enjoying her moment of serenity. The entertainment in the background behind Xytrinah was barely of any interest, nevertheless the company was far from promising. This 'visitor' did certainly seem to know something of her. His words were {daring} {provocative} { beguiling}- and with an archaic salacious tone, "Amusing.." Lower embouchement shifting against the pressed glass, head lolling to the side in angular decline, strands of midnight waist length hair freed from the woven bundle pricked by the tongueless chill.
Arctic draft pluming forth the delicate fragrance of Night-blooming orchid perfume, teasing the air in subtle scents- and diaphanous gown revealing achromatic tones of outer thigh through the billowing division of opulent diaphanous fabric. "My words were never intended to mask my nature, only emphasize my disposition." Nuance disembodied, a nocturnal distinction, suitably low and dulcet, anecdote of the summoned discarnate among mourned vaults. Mannerism more polished and cultivated, remarkably controlled and confident than any who knew of that a former time. "Mere trinkets. It appears whereas my trinkets are purely aesthetic, yours tend to be more of illusion and division. I am no fool, do not take me as one."
Such a welcomed sight when the figure at least appeared then and indulged her in the meagre exchange of wine, sometimes an exchange of libertine that made acquaintance or antagonist; it was intoxicating to muse which side this meeting would fall on. To witnessing observations, it would appear a surreal contrast, Xytrinah's 'broadcasted' unrivalled beauty, keeping correct distance, apart, and he, in his eternal perpetual death-shroud, completely clandestine in tenebrous decay of the Imperial Gardens.
"Death. A monarch unrelenting and severe. Flesh is frail, just like the tender petals of a rose, bruised with the passing season, before it wilts and crumbles. Why should I be bothered with them when their coming and their demise has already passed within a blink of an eye? Afterall, make no error, you are here, your signature speaks of Shen however- it's faint. Shall we can share a laugh... how did he die by your hands, or did you wait to jump to jump into his skin from my own efforts? Indolent!"
"Death. A monarch unrelenting and severe. Flesh is frail, just like the tender petals of a rose, bruised with the passing season, before it wilts and crumbles. Why should I be bothered with them when their coming and their demise has already passed within a blink of an eye? Afterall, make no error, you are here, your signature speaks of Shen however- it's faint. Shall we can share a laugh... how did he die by your hands, or did you wait to jump to jump into his skin from my own efforts? Indolent!"
Taking a deep superfluous breath, releasing the frosty spectral wreathes of sculptured mists, in the theatrics of exhalation causing serpents of frost and ghostly vapors to merge to rise, twisting and weaving into a harangue of corpse-winds. Sadistically Xytrinah smiled, cruel ivories overhanging crimson horizon, "Do you have a name or is that too beneath you?...for it appears that you already know mine." Chin ascending slightly in a haughty approach to the fact he knew of her, and regardless of that a sense of familiarity laying beneath cloak and flesh. Manicured transpicuous brow arching at the mention of a beautiful soul, and settling for something less than worth? Bringing the glass upwards in a gesture of a solitary toast, silent of flowery speeches, yet possessed great rumination.
"Very well. Another time, then." Words trailed off, abstract and removed of any sentiments.
...that sinister adversary of familiarity, below mortality rejoices and lupanars cavort, underneath their arbours a cradle that mourning never sojourned.
Part VI
Written by Radu the Accused
I.. The Beggar
And so it began with what would appear to be a simple humbled Beggar, limping about with a hunched physique, supported by an odd looking walking stick, an organic-esque metal of an aged appearance, black or perhaps onyx with a hint of rust perhaps.
A heavy cloak of night-dark threads swaddled what might have been a frail and lean frame, yet loose black robes hid the form beneath, as he shuffled to and fro beneath the lit up sky, sharking through the crowds unnoticed as if looking for someone or something or even nothing at all.
But this particular Beggar seemed to be more or perhaps less than what he might have been. An aura hung around him like a burden weighing heavily upon thin shoulders.. though moving unseen and unmolested through such explicit pools of gathered citizens, one might come to believe there were unnatural or even preternatural abilities in play that many might not even be aware of.
From beneath the shroud of the hood that concealed his face, for the most part, dead- white eyes, suggesting he could be blind, or of poor eyesight at best, scanned the horizon of the celebration, as the mind reached out with a third more trained and unseen eye, casting his awareness like a psychic net over his immediate surroundings, leeching and garnishing surface thoughts from those who might be of weak and poor constitution of mind or body.
This slippery fellow moved with the flowing current of people down what appeared to be main street, past the gaudy homes with open doors, inviting in any and everyone who passed by, though unbeknownst to them the danger of allowing certain beings to enter, for once they had a way in, they could come and go as one pleased. The thought flashed with the speed of white hot lightning down the corridors of his mind and stretched thin pale lips, with a hint of charcoal dusting, into a forced smile.
Happenstance had brought the Beggar to the epicenter of this untimely journey upon one of the many main squares, but by chance not just any square, but the very same in which something had pulled and drew upon his mind to follow. A trail that was familiar, close, and yet so far away. The feeling, this unknown compulsion drew his eyes up and toward a far reaching balcony. Pale oculars scanned those that seemed to be of some importance, and there was one, a woman.. and that is when it felt like a dagger being plunged deep into the soft tissues of his mind. His neural pathways felt like they were on fire.
A gnarled and skeletal hand, covered in the same organic-like metal as his staff, clutched the side of his head, pressing the thick material of his cowl against his obscured features. Pain shot through his brain, the blood vessels pulsed, raced, throbbed where blackness rose up and came crashing down with a wave of memory.. one in particular that involved a ring.. a ring made and forged of a dark metal, the same metal that comprised of his clutching appendage.
' At the last illustration of detail, shadowy mists coalescing in deep obsidian, gathering and swirling, the wafting tendrils of shadow seeking their prey, only to discover his left hand, stroking each individual digit until finally engulfing as if devouring his ring finger, tightening in sudden savagery, a bite embedding deep against the bone, entwining essences to create something more then previously he had been. A cooling and the shadows gone, a band carved of unknown material resembling black gold, but bore no reflection other then a constant swirling effect beneath the surface; adorned with elaborate hieroglyphics of an unknown codices so only he would understand the inscription and the nature of a nefarious offering. Not only a boon of Shadow but also that of the Void itself granting the attributes of all the venoms of Darkness. The inscription had read..'
" .. Arali Sila Zida.." his voice broke through the repression of personal space and sound which had been drowned out over the cacophony of music and high altitude explosions of colourful lights.
Three simple but clearly powerful words that rippled with a life all of their own. The moment the syllables crossed his lips, red glowing veins began to creep into existence around the outer edges of his eyes.. the once hunched figure flexed, as his spine seemed to stretch and move beneath the cloak. He stood tall, broad shoulders dispelled the illusion of something weak and frail of health.
The still beguiled visage of a Beggar took a step back between two of the buildings, into the mouth of an impeccable alleyway, melting into the shadows, or had it been the shadows were or had reached out for him, summoned by something deep inside and caressed over with seeking fingers of a lover's embrace. All that remained of his presence was the now triangular appearance of a blood-red stare. Eyes like smouldering coals. Burning with a glowing crimson and uniformed colour, which never blinked nor allowed his gaze to falter from her countenance.
But for a moment, as the height of exploding lights filled the sky, a streak of red, like a shooting star slicing across the sea of stars above had caught his attention. Many and most would not have even noticed such a mundane occurrence, but to the Beggar it seemed almost as important as the woman upon the balcony.
" And so it begins.. The Wamphyri have arrived.."
And so it began with what would appear to be a simple humbled Beggar, limping about with a hunched physique, supported by an odd looking walking stick, an organic-esque metal of an aged appearance, black or perhaps onyx with a hint of rust perhaps.
A heavy cloak of night-dark threads swaddled what might have been a frail and lean frame, yet loose black robes hid the form beneath, as he shuffled to and fro beneath the lit up sky, sharking through the crowds unnoticed as if looking for someone or something or even nothing at all.
But this particular Beggar seemed to be more or perhaps less than what he might have been. An aura hung around him like a burden weighing heavily upon thin shoulders.. though moving unseen and unmolested through such explicit pools of gathered citizens, one might come to believe there were unnatural or even preternatural abilities in play that many might not even be aware of.
From beneath the shroud of the hood that concealed his face, for the most part, dead- white eyes, suggesting he could be blind, or of poor eyesight at best, scanned the horizon of the celebration, as the mind reached out with a third more trained and unseen eye, casting his awareness like a psychic net over his immediate surroundings, leeching and garnishing surface thoughts from those who might be of weak and poor constitution of mind or body.
This slippery fellow moved with the flowing current of people down what appeared to be main street, past the gaudy homes with open doors, inviting in any and everyone who passed by, though unbeknownst to them the danger of allowing certain beings to enter, for once they had a way in, they could come and go as one pleased. The thought flashed with the speed of white hot lightning down the corridors of his mind and stretched thin pale lips, with a hint of charcoal dusting, into a forced smile.
Happenstance had brought the Beggar to the epicenter of this untimely journey upon one of the many main squares, but by chance not just any square, but the very same in which something had pulled and drew upon his mind to follow. A trail that was familiar, close, and yet so far away. The feeling, this unknown compulsion drew his eyes up and toward a far reaching balcony. Pale oculars scanned those that seemed to be of some importance, and there was one, a woman.. and that is when it felt like a dagger being plunged deep into the soft tissues of his mind. His neural pathways felt like they were on fire.
A gnarled and skeletal hand, covered in the same organic-like metal as his staff, clutched the side of his head, pressing the thick material of his cowl against his obscured features. Pain shot through his brain, the blood vessels pulsed, raced, throbbed where blackness rose up and came crashing down with a wave of memory.. one in particular that involved a ring.. a ring made and forged of a dark metal, the same metal that comprised of his clutching appendage.
' At the last illustration of detail, shadowy mists coalescing in deep obsidian, gathering and swirling, the wafting tendrils of shadow seeking their prey, only to discover his left hand, stroking each individual digit until finally engulfing as if devouring his ring finger, tightening in sudden savagery, a bite embedding deep against the bone, entwining essences to create something more then previously he had been. A cooling and the shadows gone, a band carved of unknown material resembling black gold, but bore no reflection other then a constant swirling effect beneath the surface; adorned with elaborate hieroglyphics of an unknown codices so only he would understand the inscription and the nature of a nefarious offering. Not only a boon of Shadow but also that of the Void itself granting the attributes of all the venoms of Darkness. The inscription had read..'
" .. Arali Sila Zida.." his voice broke through the repression of personal space and sound which had been drowned out over the cacophony of music and high altitude explosions of colourful lights.
Three simple but clearly powerful words that rippled with a life all of their own. The moment the syllables crossed his lips, red glowing veins began to creep into existence around the outer edges of his eyes.. the once hunched figure flexed, as his spine seemed to stretch and move beneath the cloak. He stood tall, broad shoulders dispelled the illusion of something weak and frail of health.
The still beguiled visage of a Beggar took a step back between two of the buildings, into the mouth of an impeccable alleyway, melting into the shadows, or had it been the shadows were or had reached out for him, summoned by something deep inside and caressed over with seeking fingers of a lover's embrace. All that remained of his presence was the now triangular appearance of a blood-red stare. Eyes like smouldering coals. Burning with a glowing crimson and uniformed colour, which never blinked nor allowed his gaze to falter from her countenance.
But for a moment, as the height of exploding lights filled the sky, a streak of red, like a shooting star slicing across the sea of stars above had caught his attention. Many and most would not have even noticed such a mundane occurrence, but to the Beggar it seemed almost as important as the woman upon the balcony.
" And so it begins.. The Wamphyri have arrived.."
Part VII
Written by Andrew/ Minjun
Uachauguthlo System IV- U'rsthollosha Spiral
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
Gardens Always Have Secrets
In such places beyond nightmares, between midnights and immense emptiness beyond measure, it was always a
mild amusement as beings sought to chase the tempests that had the least respect for the pillars they raised themselves upon. They sought to understand the obviously presented environment around them with such eager drive, so willing to swallow whatever swill was feeble enough to believe the sparks of silver that left their tongues. Minjun had learned about the power of accurate knowledge from his father, it made the cracks in the bard-like tales sung by the tongues of most men a passing amusement and idle playthings that passed into the oblivions that were soon forgotten in heat of the chase among the twilight banners of space. How do you know of spaces you have never occupied? Through streets of revelers that ever widened towards the epicenter of Imperial activity, the strange actions of unknown soldiers beneath the dark cowl and ever consented egress bore no trepidation at all upon the young man who strangely knew the footpath through the unsilvered mirror from which he was received. It seemed unquestioned, and in the confirmation that it gave possibly the mere scent of similarity to which they yielded.
mild amusement as beings sought to chase the tempests that had the least respect for the pillars they raised themselves upon. They sought to understand the obviously presented environment around them with such eager drive, so willing to swallow whatever swill was feeble enough to believe the sparks of silver that left their tongues. Minjun had learned about the power of accurate knowledge from his father, it made the cracks in the bard-like tales sung by the tongues of most men a passing amusement and idle playthings that passed into the oblivions that were soon forgotten in heat of the chase among the twilight banners of space. How do you know of spaces you have never occupied? Through streets of revelers that ever widened towards the epicenter of Imperial activity, the strange actions of unknown soldiers beneath the dark cowl and ever consented egress bore no trepidation at all upon the young man who strangely knew the footpath through the unsilvered mirror from which he was received. It seemed unquestioned, and in the confirmation that it gave possibly the mere scent of similarity to which they yielded.
His lean and athletic composition and the slender tipped ears suggested an ignorant assumption of elfin nature, or perhaps even that which they actually designed it to mock. Regardless, just as the paternal and maternal source, it bore a definition all of its own, measured in the masculine forecast and chiseled of niranium with the spark of agility and grace in movement. Regal demure muted by engrained soldier hone, Minjun was perhaps more deserving of the title his father continually pushed in his speeches than he let on. Black unbannered military garb, denoted in the mandarin style which further enhanced such a lean physique, provided an easy recess into perceiving vanish with each pass from lantern light to shadow as he walked. The luminescence of even the alit orchid-like blossom upon his collar even surrendered eventually in each transition.
Warm honey orbs swarmed with webs of the blackest ink, a painted tapestry of those dying suns that lit the skies like moons. Red painted lanterns lifted from the more fortunate crowds in praiseful splendour of the celebration of the festival to which he was a witness. It reminded him of the celebrations held by Lao'Taun and then in the honour of his father following that violent succession of violent revenge. Such things passed for it was strong who reigned within the arms and this place certainly gave a certain familiarity to it, even beyond what came from the memory of a very different version which inexperienced eyes had explored.
This last leg of the journey felt almost like the silent, tranquil moments after the angriest of storms. In denial of being told no, but under the same motion of assigned missions and classified incidents he had searched for, anyway. Over time, it was like a hunt for treasure that only held value to him and no one else. From the fragments of transmission to a rumoured connection, it had all painted a picture that now was going to take shape or be proven false. Minjun was ready for either eventuality, for in some ways he carried upon him the deeds of his father and mentor as well, the last steps were absolutely a measure of persistence for the sake of more than just the probably perceived foolish soul that climbed stairs and passed higher and higher standing figures within the native cultural ecosystem. He wouldn't wash this down with champagne despite the pleasant offers in the pauses between spiralling climb.
The last steps to the highest of high had contemplation of what had already been decided. What to say and how to announce his father's words rang within his mind, a reminder that the decision to say nothing would be the wisest of entry of all. They would see who and what he was and judgment would stem uncontrolled from that, be it he spoke or not. There were obviously others who sought attention ahead. There was a certain feeling to it that reminded him of the extravagant movements of one spider that his father had been breeding, a dance upon the web to attract prey. He may have spent the historic moments of his life in the dawn, but since he could remember after the crossing there had been nothing but this comforting blackness. He pulled the mask down and sunk it within the thin mandarin collar. Unlike some, he had no reason to cling in that darkness, for he breathed it like the air.
The woman went by many names, and he knew what he figured were only a few. One of the additional reasons he had chosen this approach to wait silently to receive address first is that he reserved a name that he had not seen given; for as far as he was aware, he was the only one who could give it.
Part VIII
Written by Xytrinah
Uachauguthlo System IV- U'rsthollosha Spiral
The K'ctha-Zothan Imperial 1st Anniversary: Hฤi'Lรกnhuฤ Festival
Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
Sometimes the thoughts compelled by the mind of one, should remain with the one.
The orchestral melody mixed with the many voices of those in attendance of the party until it just become one nuance, and then drowned out with the colourful explosions which ornamented the skies above. Her starless gaze shimmered like the void-dance rippling on the midnight tide with the resplendence- not menacingly, not any look in particular that could be interpreted; just unresponsiveness and cold, howbeit still beheld an 'innocent-like' wonder in her own silent nature. Despite being held in silent resolve, moving away from present company, leaving them to maybe contemplate what actions they would next take, steps with caution should be the chosen path. It then that a series of equations which began to tug on Xytrinah's essence to a degree that it just couldn't go ignored. One familiar, the other familiar but something else. The sensations were like claws ripping beneath the surface, but more poignantly within her own complex genetic design. “Not possible.”
Familiarity echoed through each fibre of her being, breaking her train of thought and the monotonous discussion that already took place; but seemed to have held no significance- pointless. Names and fading faces of old beckoning to her through the vespers of an obscure memory; they lingered there almost stoic in the further-reaches of her mind to almost the point of wistfulness. Senses drove her to particular shores, at the hour of interlunar midnight, staring out across the incensed gardens where lamps burned rarely and the languid-gliding clouds muffled the stars and the swarming crowds below. At least what had been promised, if only it was to herself, it had been accomplished. A silent but personal victory, none there had the forbearing's of knowledge too.... only the ones who survived the ordeal and now thus celebrated. It brought an old quote to mind, and that quote now found sound across rubicund apertures, "Yes indeed, that which is my garden" .
The colours of that garden now decorated the skies in revelation. Smiling to herself over the crystal rim of the intricate goblet. But the words too held a sinister meaning only known to her.
A red star streaked the skies amongst the phoenixes and orchids...
Dark wisps of nostalgia carried her further into the labyrinths of memory, back where there were only the joys of contentment hadn't come at a "personal" cost, but somethings just don't go as planned.... even for those who execute them typically with flawless precision. Tilting head ever so slightly guiding the mantle of silk black hair flowing over her shoulder and past the concaved art of waist, lifting upwards and positioning herself on the side of the onyx-crystal balustrade that dropped down to the multitudes of squares below. "Well... are you happy now?" Whispered to whoever those words were exactly indeed for, drifting on the ghostly winds, left to discernment, but soon broken by a stifled laugh from the glass, that maybe sounded more like a choke at the incoming flippancy.
>>Encrypted Message: MV HARPY IV
To: Xytrinah Equinius
You're really back? Firstly, I thought it was Vorca screwing with us all, strange to see you planetside? What's with that?
But, do I have to call you Empress, sounds like a bad appetizer on an Ayenee menu? I know you hate that word...oh....by the way, you owe me a fancy drink when I get back, chances are I am going to get so bloody "lit". Those mint green beverages with metallic swirly things, lots of ice. It smelled somewhat like campfire smoke and tasted like hydraulic fluid, apples and it caused tingling and numbness in the extremities. By the way, wishing you were here.
Revelation is the Law. Yadda Yadda, bullshit, bullshit.
Admiral Alara Lirranus <<
‘Current’ files and reports sent from Alara that Xytrinah immediately began scanning through the report down-links; meanwhile electing, rather to watch the swinging charades of flickering illuminous illustrations caressing the night through the violaceous hues. Using the internal HUBS and drives, in a matter of a blink flicking through page upon page of statistics. Searching through the millions of terminals... noticing quite a few serious discrepancies and severe weak spots in the overall foundations of outermost surface. Nothing ever came without some possible setbacks. It was a short-lived interruption, but a conventional one. Alara and her had become quite close over the years, there was no reason to hide the alliance; it only held strength to the all-embracing umbrella betwixt their peoples and worlds. It also greatly weakened the superstition and paranoia of another military ruse between their nations. Mistakes of the past were not to be systematic; heavily daedalean preventions had long been put in place, pitilessly as the Shen had witnessed.
▌Encrypted Message: Cyotha-Ysha Palace.
To: Admiral Alara Lirranus. MV Harpy IV
You have the worst possible timing.
‘Strictly’ Off record. I think you mean 'Absinthe'? It's bromidic. And please fucking save me from hearing about the itchiness, dampness or numbness of your extremities, please. Disturbing.
On record. Previously correspondence: I don't see the necessary requirement for re-deployment at this point in time when investigating the actual nature of present business, it's a celebration for fuck's sake. Remember what that is? Apparently green swirly drinks with umbrellas, waking up feeling like a S'ugongula anal-birthed you?
As for the other question, no, it's just going to keep the peace here but will probably piss off everything else in this cluster that has a mgshugnah or eight!
FYI, regardless of the employer who wishes to remain anonymous that automatically places sceptical question on the true denominator of this circumstance. I am currently studying the chart and blueprints of the actual architecture of the facilities structure, and I do have concerns for the actual stability of the outermost surface that is certainly showing weak spots in the crust and the glacial structures here. I will keep going through the reports as you forward them. If there is any change for the worst, inform me immediately and I will personally assign to deployment. Give me an excuse to get out of this dress. I think I am just about done perfecting "not celebrating". Honestly the outcome and the expense vastly did outweigh the score.
But we've done what we set the course to do.
Going forward.
Xytrinah ▌
Ending communications and disconnecting from further distraction. The system was well patrolled, most traffic direction to the quarantine stations at least until the following appointed hours- there was no concern of any threat, and even so, they'd have to get past the legions of battle-ready vessels and leviathans. Except for the Prime world, travel wasn't restricted or repressed.... tyranny and totalitarianism long outlawed since the Celestial Liege. A new way had to be constituted and adapted to. If only for the preservation of life itself. Certainly, there had been enough of death, she even excelled at being the bringer of it closely astride with its beloved companion betrayal more times than she cared to remember.
Calculation seemed now at its zenith, as two distinctive signatures pulled potently on ebony threads, but one held more dominant as it was closer.... the crystalline glass within her hand burst into the diamond dust of fragments; the wine dripped with an added rich hyacinth alluvium twixt slender digits. It was a sensation so foreign, convoluted, aesthetic in its meaning. It pooled and moved with its own sentience into wreaths of darkish matter, the current scenery appearing to waver into solid walls, lavish decorations, meaningless shapes as this continued in interwoven spirals. Ominous static crackling of blackened, now visible veins, nebulous potency in defiance of any reality, sparks of midnight ebony flittering and hissing like some horror for the void itself. Impalpably with the gusty strands through shattered liminal and between formless gates Xytrinah stepped henceforward. Laces of metamorphic nebula's fell and shifted, her materializing embodiment crafted back to flesh and bone. directly at his side, staring directly at him.
Silent at first. Studying his handsome features, there was no mistake. Had Xytrinah not identified her own quintessence she could have sworn he was a ghost from her past, Koshiro. There was no sardonic lilt, no typical smirk over claret-coloured countenances- if anything she felt far from patronizing or smug but in that silence, somehow, smooth-honeyed tones sung forth. "What a question to behold beneath the cosmos that now stands in question.." How the articulations undulated, emphasizing and stressing the "stand" in reference to him directly, then the upper tones whispering into the silk-mellifluous timbres of a unique and unusual accent- falling to complete taciturnity. Perhaps her eyes stated more, imbued like amaranthine stars dancing in the firmament—nebula's and galaxies within them oscillating. Emotion.
