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Night of Unrest
updated 11 years ago
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((Similar to how the first section ended when the event did, this section spans from the moment the guards start shooing everyone out of the arena (except the fighter slaves, obviously) to about two in the morning. Feel free to go where ever you want, as long as its inside the city walls.))
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Xienex left the arena, with people all around him, yet utterly alone. He almost had the will to let his wings show, and use the power stored in him, the emotion he tried so hard to contain overflow and destroy the city, then create a city anew. But he knew that he would be stopped, even with his power, the humans had numbers. So he toiled on, wading gently through the crowd, standing out only slightly because of his almost white skin, hair, and clothing. Once he reaches the alleyway he called his home, he sits, and sighs. He has not the energy to scavenge, even though his stomach ached of hunger. He only desired rest…
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“Ha! Take that you scourge!” Toby exclaimed dramatically, thrusting the dull wooden sword at Milo, who of course cowered back. “What can’t Oliver play the beast?” The petite blonde whimpered, peeking out from under the blanket they’d used as a costume. “Miloooo! Stop breaking character!” Anna whined. “You’re supposed to jump at him!” Reenacting the battles from the arena was one of the princess’s favorite games, and she was very strict about accuracy. “Besides,” Toby added “Oliver’s on braiding duty.” The stoic doll nodded, not looking up from plaiting Anna’s long golden locks. Of the three boys, he was the best at girlish things like hairstyling and nail painting.
“Now kill him.” She said excitedly, bouncing up and down on her bed and almost messing up the dark lavender ribbon that Oliver was trying to lace through her hair. Toby nodded and dove under the smaller boy, whacking him on the chest with the sword. Milo gave a half genuine moan of pain and flopped over to play dead. “Aaaaguuuhh, my leg! My arm!” Toby cried, pulling the limbs out from under his motionless brother. “I’ll never walk again! Aaauu- Oh hi Mrs. Bloomden!”
The princess’s nanny smiled as she walked into the room, Anastasia wasn’t allowed to have friends from lower classes, so as the highest class in the city, she would have been very lonely without her toys. “Your highness, it’s time for dinner.” Oliver had just enough time to tie the ribbon around her braid before Anastasia skipped across the room, jumping over each of the other two dolls consecutively. Milo sighed tiredly once the door had closed behind her. “Is your stomach ok?” Toby asked, helping him up. “Huh? Oh. Yes, I’m fine…. It just seems wrong, making a game out of that.” Oliver nodded wordlessly as he put the brush and hair ribbons away.
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match sits staring up at the huge wall wanting to get out. sure she could make a cloud float her up. wait, oh thats right the walls blocks magic from going over the walls.
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Matthew was escorted into the castle by about four warlocks. A bit extravagant, Matt thought, but after all Mathew was a bit of a criminal and the warlocks were hired to protect the princess at all costs. After climbing up an overwhelming amount of stairs, he was finally only a couple feet away from the graceful castle that you could see from miles away. The warlocks mumbled a few words, and the gigantic stone doors opened. Still being watched like and hawk, Matt walked into the castle. The elegant interior amazed him, he hadn’t seen anything this amazing since he was alive. The cream colored tiled floors shined like diamonds. The chandeliers brightened up the room, admittedly making Mathew’s skin slightly burn, but it was still magnificent. He was led into a dinning hall where the princess sat eating. She took sloppy, big, bites that amused Matt.
“What is a creature like that doing here?!” An elderly lady scolded him, “Get him out of here now!” The warlock said nothing back to her, the just pushed Mathew closer to the princess. Anna’s hair was braided beautifully, and the ribbon at the bottom shined almost as bright as the blonde hair it was tied to. Mathew stood there awkwardly for a few minutes before the princess looked up from eating. She cocked her head, and Matt smiled to the best of his ability. “Hello,” He said as politely as he could, “I’m Mathew.”
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“What is he doing here?” The head warlock growled angrily as he entered the room, the doors slamming open without him needing to touch them. He nodded to the guards on either side of the door and they grabbed the vampire, holding him in place while Rasputin stormed over to glare at him. Anastasia watched raptly, though still managing to keep eating despite the ruckus. “You told us to take him to the princess.” The guard said warily. “I told you to TELL him you were taking him to the princess.” He roared, shaking the lesser warlock. “Not actually do it!… But no matter, this works just as well.” He smiled, and traced one hand over Mathew’s neck, thick ribbons of molten steel forming along it, quickly building and cooling into a strong, much stronger than usually needed, collar. “You’ve been running for a long time, haven’t you, Mathew?” As he spoke, glowing blue etching began to appear on the steel, spells and curses in some arcane language to give far more control over the prisoner than any metal shackles could. “Running from the human army, running from my warlocks, running from your own repulsive fate” he pulled back and waved his hand, sending a blast of electricity coursing through the collar, enough to kill a lesser stranger, but just enough to severely weaken Mathew “I’d say it’s a surprise to see you give yourself up to such an obvious trap. But then… Everyone has to stop running sooner or later.”
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Aisling shivered outside of the arena. She was in a bad shape, she’d probably die if she didn’t shift soon. She stumbled, and coughed up blood onto the road, then curled up into a ball. Jeez, maybe at this point it would be better if the warlo-no, she knew to much important info. Better to die than be captured. She heard footsteps, and her tongue wandered to the tooth that had been replaced by an arsenic pill. Better safe than sorry. She could’ve laughed at the irony, if it didn’t mean more of her lungs ending up on the road.
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“I haven’t been running,” Mathew mumbled as the collar pressed against his neck making it hard for him to speak, “Picking fights with you isn’t running. All it is is a plead for attention, nothing more. I can’t help it that I just tend to kill people to obtain that attention.” The blast of electricity weakened him momentarily, giving Rasputin the time he needed to lecture Matt about his sins. This surprised Matthew though, because Rasputin had never been much for words, more for action and death. Matt let him fangs out and hissed at the guards, “What is it you want with all of us anyways? I mean, I know you want me for murder and god know what else. But what about the innocent strangers you put in the arena, huh? Are you scared of their power, their strength? Or are you just ignorant like everybody else in the crap city of ours?” Mathew’s enraged attitude had clearly upset Rasputin, he could see the anger growing in his eyes, a kind of anger Matthew had felt before. When he used to go out on killing sprees that anger would consume him whole, nowadays it doesn’t even matter to him any more. But Rasputin wasn’t the only enraged one, the feeling Mathew saw in his eyes was growing in his own. That uncontrollable rage and blood lust was returning to him, no one was safe now. Not even Matt.
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“What n’ th’ hell ‘re you doin’?” Ariana questioned, looking down at the pathetic heap of agony at her feet. “You gonna make us Strangers look bad?” There seemed to be a genuine touch of annoyance in her voice, and not even a bit of compassion for the helpless girl on the ground; or maybe there was, but it was masked pretty well. “All you annoyin’ buggers dyin’ left n’ right… Can’t even hardly scare a mouse with this kinda reputation!” she grumbled, hefting poor Aisling onto her shoulders with ease, honestly not caring how much pain it’d cause her, nor whether or not blood got on her clothes. “You keep yer mouth shut n’ I’ll patch you up good as new.” Ariana popped a strip of gum in her mouth (it seemed to come out of nowhere) and put the unused hand in her pocket. Then, she walked off, heading directly to her humble home.
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Sarion woke up disappointed. The arena had been cleared for the night. Outside of the holding cells the wind echoed through the empty stands, carrying no voices. The fights had been horrible, but at least they had been something. Now, there was just his cell and the moaning of those who had been injured earlier that night. There was almost nothing to stop his mind from going back to his fight, remembering what he was unable to as he did it. He had only managed to take a few bites of his opponent before the warlocks deciding he had eaten enough. They couldn’t let him feed too well, but Sarion almost wished they didn’t let him feed at all. The taste of stale blood still lingered in his mouth.
He needed a distraction.
In the cell next to his there was a girl nursing a dirty bandage on her arm. He couldn’t see underneath the bandage, but he didn’t need to. He could feel the heat of the burn from where he sat. It made his skin itch. Sarion scooted himself over to the edge of the cell closer to the girl. “The trouble with burns is you have to cool them, or they will continue to eat away at your flesh.” He reached his hand as far through the bars as he could, but he couldn’t reach the girl. She cowered away from him, eyeing him warily. Then she seemed to think it through and offered her arm to him.
When her hot skin touched his finger tips he almost recoiled away. He hated the heat. It hurt so much. However, the cold was inside him and strong, the fire in her arm was weak. He focused on her arm, his senses allowing him to know just how deep and how far the burn spread across her arm. He transferred the cold from his core through his fingertips and into her arm. He instantly felt the fire retreat and the girl let out a sigh of relief. Sarion withdrew his hand before the cold set too deep inside the girl, but not before the warlock guards had seen him with his hand through the bars.
“Hey! What were you just doing?” Warlocks gathered in front of his cell. Sarion looked up at the warlocks, but he didn’t give an answer. What could he say? The warlocks’ minds were already made up no matter what he said. It was out of his hands what happened next. He wouldn’t fight the warlocks. He didn’t think anyone else would either. When they entered his cell he stood up from the ground, but otherwise didn’t move.
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Waking up, Serilda noticed that the Arena had been closed down for the time being. Groaning she stood up and saw the mess of bodies and injured Slaves around her, Disgusted she moved out father into the cells. Hearing the Warlocks yelling at a slave she silently walked towards the voice of the mad Warlock. Seeing a Slave she knew , an anger spread threw her, making her eyes flash red. Quietly she walked up to the Gard and Grabbed his neck, holding quite still she whispered into his ear..“If you leave now and look away as we leave, i won’t kill your slimy ass. Understood?” She finished growling, and shoved the Warlock away, he stumbled slightly but with a look at her, he knew her reputation of being a good killer, she sensed his horror as he ran away, also smelling a bit of pee.Turning she looked at her fellow stranger, Sarion , and nodded slightly, as she went on her way out of the cells and out into the city, where she found her old home, and went back into a deep slumber.
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@Matt Roberts She tried to put up a struggle, she really did. At least at first. But she soon gave up. She stayed silent for a few moments, before mumbling pitifully, “Where are you taking me?” Great, she was probably going to the cells. She had been so good though! She hadn’t shifted in weeks, and pretty much stayed home working to get others out of the arena, into the castle in multiple failed attempts to slay the head warlock. She had covered her tracks so well, too! Of course, in her panic, she hadn’t noticed that the strange person carrying her wasn’t wearing warlock’s cloaks.
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Rasputin clenched his teeth to avoid responding to that first statement. This was why he hated Stranger children. (And indeed, nearly all Strangers were children because it was rare that they’d live to adulthood.) It was understandable that weak, feeble humans would be so immature and guided by their emotions. And warlocks, though left cold and soulless by their contract, at least had the self control to use such great power in a productive way. But this boy; nothing but a loose cannon. Willing to take a life merely to be noticed, and endowed with the powers to do so easily whenever he liked. The Strangers were all alike, selfish uncouth beings who acted on nothing but their own feelings. “You’ve a short memory, Matthew.” He scoffed, kneeling to look him in the eye. “Don’t you remember what your people did before the arena? All the innocents who died then? Your kind have always been killers. You should thank us for trying to contain it.” The warlock smirked, standing up. “Imagine, catching such an elusive murderer and letting him go. Ah well, they do say forgiveness is divine.” He made a slight gesture over the vampire’s head, putting him to a deep sleep. “Just drop him in an alley or something.” The guards nodded and carried the unconscious child out of the room, the collar around his neck still glowing steadily.
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@Matt Roberts
It doesn’t take much for Xienex to notice Ariana carrying the small girl. This infuriates him, seeing this as an attempt to throw another poor soul to the arena. So naturally, he drifts closer and closer, until he reaches her, draws a thin blade, and clears his throat. “Excuse me. Put the girl down. I will not allow another one to be thrown to arena. Put her down, or your death will follow shortly.” He manages to stay cool, but his hair sparkles ever so slightly with electricity.
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(hia XD)
matchettew: walking around before hopping on a cloud and looking downn the city*