(Closed) Deceuer Catch All

[mirshikar]

Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Deceuer
Where: Various locations in Aefenglom, the Outer City, and the Wilde.
What: Quest and event threads, along with a healthy dose of clowning. I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the Dec plotting post!
Warnings: Light violence.

Comments

[mirshikar]

[ The taste of her abhorrence for this place (noxious and overwhelming, like carrion flowers and their sickly perfume) is all Asura needs to loathe this new change of scenery; this hotel which had cropped up reflexively when impetus (a question, one which Asura cannot regret) had been provided. The answer, of course, is yes, and though it had been anticipated and braced for, the impact of Paloma's affirmation gives rise to low rumblings of thunder in Asura's chest; a snarl which had been impossible to stay from the beginning. The refusal to use Carlos' name isn't enough, could never be adequate punishment for what he'd stolen from Paloma.

Asura is resolute when he lifts the link of their hands, presses the flat of Paloma's palm to the door which fissures and cracks, its many fragments expanding and contracting as though it were a living, breathing entity all its own. Like it were the monster, and not the Kindred (less than a man) with waxen skin and hair as red as their transgressions. ]

Push, when you are ready. [ Sliding over the back of Paloma's hand is Asura's massive one, fingers flexing in their sprawl, silent (as always) in their reminder that his power is her own. ] We'll break it down together.

Whatever he did, whatever he lead you to believe, it is in the past. [ And this is her retelling, her account which reflects terror and dread in this restrictive, never-ending hall. She can't go back, she can't advance, but Paloma, she isn't so immobilized. She isn't trapped. In this dream-memory, she is an architect; she can build something more: ] Now, you are the one who decides how to move forward.

[ Clear to him, that she has no wish to relive the before and after of the Embrace.

The question is now: ] What is it that you want to see beyond this door? You are strong enough to will it into existence.

[gehennawind]

[ At no point on her birthday in late October had Paloma touched this door. It lacks identifiable texture under their pressing, pushing fingers.

Echoes of his thunder rattle around in the cage of her ribs. It strengthens her heart and at first she thinks he's growling some more but recognizes it as her own private, suppressed hatred, hot and drumming her nerves raw to their last fraying thread. It pinches her mouth, it soaks her in a gasoline where her sire's voice is the match. It's all the venom of what Carlos did oozing through her pores. ]

What I want is— can you hear him?

[ Caressing and intimate and loving, the man on the other side of the door's lazy murmuring sharpens into clarity:

I want to show you something

I want to show you something

I want to show you something. ]

You hear him, right?

[ He says it again. I want to show you something. A skipping record, playing the same ugly song. The door bulges around her fingertips, curling into claws. Fear was, is, a natural response. Fury and naked loathing shatter the chipped wood keeping her away from the man who remade her in his image. He's in the process of dressing a faceless, colorless nude body on a hotel bed surrounded by opened condom wrappers, some pills on a dresser that didn't even belong to them but had come with this cheap and anonymous room. He blinks at her.

I want to show you something, is the only thing he says, and Paloma peels off of Asura to drive him into the muddy carpet. ]