@mari_onette said:
@naomi_delacour: stab stab stab stab
London England ( CVNU Location)
In his obsessive quest for immortality the Shaytan had openly crossed swords with two of the World's most prolific icons. Their battle had been savage. It had been destructive. Together they had brought down the religious monument known as the Temple Mount, and in doing so, the Shaytan had nearly died. It was here, under a continent of rubble in which the Father of Assassins found a prize worth more than all his accumulated power. Worth more than the jewel he had previously fought and perished for. Worth more than his abandoned family name. Having uncovered several ancient and esoteric artifacts that would have set the archeological community on fire. Yet these magical instruments required a proficient hand, steady consciousness, and proper tutelage. Thus the newly appointed Supreme Shaytan found himself on a new path. A divergent path from that of his treasured League. A path only his most loyal followers would consider embarking on. A path that would lead him back to the prestigious aristocracy and illuminati like resources of the vaunted Hellfire Club.  Through tech, spies or magic and dripped out in a matching - uniquely tailored form fitting designer ensemble - the 'immortal' Shaytan casually entered the colorful pub in search of the social media mamba herself. Remarkably the once infamous 'Knightfall' legend made his way through the establishment unmolested. Somehow just another face in the crowd. A masterful display of facial anonymity despite having committed some of the World's most horrific acts of violence. Despite having performed some of its most heroic deeds. "Exciting match."the secret mystic charmingly interjected before ordering himself a pint of lager and another of whatever the Lady Tigress was finishing up. "Though I wouldnt have expected to find you here of all places. Madame Mamba." he quipped. Alluding to the fact that he had come there with the expressed intent on locating her, specifically. |
@naomi_delacour said:
@mari_onette said:
@naomi_delacour: stab stab stab stab
lol that gif play
@naomi_delacour: @raysh_al_shaytan:
They say the Devil's water it ain't so sweet,
You don't have to drink right now,
but you can dip your feet,
Every once in a little while.
Those words never meant so much as Matilda dipped her toe into the hot bath water that she had prepared. Her entire body soon followed, as she released a grunt of enjoyment that even her Mancunian (North Britain/ Manchester) accent allowed. She had just returned from Romania, following down myths as she always done for the Alexandria. In this case she was looking for an escaped verse. Not a book, or a page, she was looking for a particular phrase that had escaped scripts for a century. It proved to be a bigger trouble than expected, Matilda only wanting to relax within the confines of her own dwelling.
She sat back, the water stopping at her chin as her fingers dangled playfully to the song which echoed in the bathroom. She enjoyed the occasional sip of wine, the bitter fullness of its design striking her just right. The world sucked, both the seen and unseen. She had cursed it so many times she lost count, but this moment she would enjoy.
She had lost track of time, pleasure can do that, but something made Matilda open an eye out of curiosity. She couldn't place it, but something wasn't right. Her leg went in the water as her shoulder went out and it was then she saw the ripple that she made slow and then stopping mid wave. She barely caught her breathe, her head diving into the water as it solidified above her. She was encased in the bath, pounding on the surface above her. It was a quick shift, a small one, but enough Matilda had to react quickly. Hoping out of the tub would have took longer than partial submersion, so she took questionable path.
Matilda knocked on the surface again, as it felt like her chest was being squeezed due to lack of oxygen. The horrors of her situation fueled her resolve. The last thing she wanted was her tombstone to say, 'Here lies Matilda Tucker. Born on a Thursday. Died in the bath.'
She couldn't cast a counter as she was lucky to last this long. The pressure rose in her chest knowing she was running short on time and life. Her hands reached out to both sides of her tub, forcefully shifting her weight back and forth repeatedly until inertia took over, causing the tub to tip over, shattering the tub as water drowned her entire bathroom floor. She took in a deep breathe, one she never thought she enjoyed until now.
ALEX BOOKS
Few knew that the little alley book store within Manchester had a little secret. From the unaware eye, it looked like a chaotic station of books and shelves that seemed to pile ontop of each other. For Matilda, it was research.
The chime of the bell rang, catching the attention of the curator as he revealed himself from the back wall with books piled up to his chin to see Matilda standing there, her hair still wet.
What the Hell happened to you, Alfie asked, looking curiously at the disheveled Matilda. Is it raining?
No it isnt raining, Matilda uttered. I need access to Alexandria, referring to the magic collection of scrolls and other magical references that made the book store special.
Alfie curiosity grew. Why is that? he asked, heading to the back of the store.
Spontaneous shift, that was all Matilda said but it caught Alfie's attention like a gift on a birthday. It was much like a unicorn that way. There were whispers of it. Rumblings of manipulations of the highest kind. Alfie knew it just as much as Matilda did.
Alfie propped up his glasses at the suggestion. You do know...
...it only happens with an unusual influx of concentrated magic energy. I know. I know. Matilda finished. Just show me Alexandria.
Alfie merely bowed, pulling a book of his shelf and inverting it while placing it back onto the shelf. Within a blink the shelves opened to a much larger room that contradicted the area which contained it on from the street.
Matilda, Alfie greeted with much enjoyment. Welcome to the Great Library of Alexandria. Well...what's left and what I have collected of it of course. Egypt it is not, but I must say I have given it a Manchester twist to it.
 The captivating Madonna of subtle mystical enlightenment flirtatiously indulged the unexpected arrival, showcasing her inherent social grace with each movement, each word, as she crafted an atmosphere of relaxed attraction. An atmosphere which was carried throughout the entirety of the duo's leisurely stroll through the chilled streets of North London. Piercing the veil between London's notable reality, and that of its ancient magical underworld. Its mirrored mystical reality filled with unique emporiums and odd beings of occultism. During which time, the Shaytan expressed his views as they related to the current state of not only the Hellfire Club, but the decreased state of the mystical arts and its protective obligation as it pertained to the World as a whole. Unbound by ancient restrictions. Unshackled, morally free to bend the supernatural forces and esoteric influences of the universe to his will, the Shaytan had been reborn with glorious purpose. "Sorcerers, mages, fire worshipers and snake-eaters, for too long they have all sat back and allowed others to dictate the flow of universal destiny. And the world and its population have suffered greatly for it. It is time for a new approach. Like the serpent in the rainbow those of magical importance must shed their skin. Shed the old restrictive rules set forth by councils, governments, and ministries who have far outlived their relevance."He held back though. Guarding ideals they may have seemed too extreme for an initial parlay. Naomi was too important to the creation of his secret Dark Ministry. As such, the Shaytan subtly observed her reactions. Observed the hundreds of imperceptible micro-expressions entertainingly displayed just beneath the surface of the Aphrodite of the Art's facial articulation. "The age of esoteric enlightenment is at hand my dear Naomi. But it must be ushered in by those who truly understand what the World is, and what it must become. Together, you and I, we could build a cathedral dedicated to the magical protection - and rule - of the World. Assemble a council of the 'true' arts and the masters of dark performances. And lead our brothers and sisters into a new era of supernatural supremacy." he forged an inquisitive glance hopeful he had not misjudged the Madame Mamba's own power fueled ambitions. |
@raysh_al_shaytan: @naomi_delacour:
Matilda had searched feverishly as she skimmed pages upon pages, books upon books for with Alfie still bringing stacks of books which began to pile up for her as she progressed in her research. It was quite an extensive collection, extending from Mesopotamia manuscripts, Tibetan scrolls, Zhou parchments and of course, anything Alexander the Great had collected - yet still nothing concrete in a direction.
Even with the massive Eldritch collection at her disposal, what she was looking for was but a scant whisper in the writings of history. It frustrated Matilda to no end, almost as if fate was mocking her as she raised her middle finger to Alfie's giant painting of the Amer Fort in India which adorned the room.
Frustration had become unbearable, as her quest had almost allowed the room to swallow her whole bearing no attention to the world outside the room's door and definitely not the entrance of another into the store itself. The chaotic noise of frustration was quickly blanketed by an odd silence which seemed odd to the Mancuan Mage. She looked around, not noticing Alfie anywhere near. It was then that she felt something crawl upon her hand which made her flinch unexpectedly. It was not a bug, nor a rodent, but the words from a page she was reading. They began to stumble over each other, an exodus of letters from parchment into the realm of the walking living the room, directing Matilda to follow.
Matilda walked down the hall corridor to see a woman waiting. It was an instant oddity as the scene compared the extravagant style of the visitor to the weekend attire of jeans and t-shirt.
May I help you? Matilda asked. She could not recall the identity of the woman which stood before her as she politely smiled. Matilda could not recall her face, or knew her name, but her presence made Matilda wonder had they passed each other in life - like two passengers on the same train from work that never spoke to each other due to circumstances. Tea? Matilda offered.
@fables_: @naomi_delacour: (sorry for the wait. Didnt give ya much to run with at the end but as pointed out, we're all just freestyling here so feel free to take it in any direction you see fit) #Adaptive
Following the mystical Madonna into the esoteric emporium with a slight look of fascination and wonder, the Supreme Shaytan inquisitively traced his ringed fingers along the endless sea of delicate literature. The fan folded canvas - and or - cloth sewn spins each held a metaphorical taste of magical aura, unique and intriguing. As if they held a small breath from the author or scribe. The former Father of Assassin's found himself attempting to compartmentalize his untethered thoughts, seeking to mentally digest both his previous conversation with the beautiful mage, as well as the current revelation of the back alley bookstore and the enchantments held there within.  Ignoring the gracious hospitality of the shop-keep, gatekeeper, hostess? Raysh's visual attention remained a stoic compilation of silent observation. Slowly caressing the bottom of his unshaven chin while examining the secret cache of grimoires before unexpectedly folding his arms, tutting his fingers in a complex series of rhythmic motions, and spiritually separating his conscious and subconscious self into a plethora of apparitions floating throughout the shop. Each translucent representation was coupled with a specific tome, manifesto, or unexplored opus. Instantly compiling a century's worth of mystical enlightenment. Tapping into a metaphysical spring of supernatural entitlement reserved for the privileged few. Unfortunately not even the Shaytan's self-aggrandized sense of self was enough to breach a large section of what he could only assume were the purest publications associated with the powerful art of metaphysical manipulation and reality altering texts. "In time."he smugly grumbled beneath his breath. Constricting his mirrored projections back into a singular form with lethargic simplicity the Shaytan began to focus his attention towards the unknown hostess. "And whom do we have here?" he passively inquired as he repositioned himself close enough to Naomi to catch the intoxicating scent of her perfume. "Not just a simple tea sommelier. I dare venture." The Shaytan trolled with a deadpanned awareness of the abnormal situation. "My name is Qui....you may refer to me as Raysh. This lovely creature next to me is Ms. Delacour. We're...mystical enthusiasts you might say." Slightly raising his brow, the Shaytan waited for a 'pressured' response. |
@naomi_delacour: @raysh_al_shaytan: I didnt know if it was my turn but Ill reply
Mystical Enthusiast? Matilda said aloud with a coy smile toward Raysh while providing a curtsy toward the other introduced as Ms. Delacour. Both actions were so uncommon for the Manc Mage as she usually would have opened with a finger and not the index or the pinkie, nor the ring or the thumb but discretion was considered the better course no matter how much it pained her.
Okay, okay... she said with a giggle as she showed both her hands to the two as they were part of some presentation. I usually only do this for parties but since you two obviously have heard of me and want to hire me for some party I can show you some freebies, but don't tell anyone. I have a reputation. And with a wink, she slowly rolled a Jack of Spades between two fingers showing the two as her thumb which braced the card traced a sigil on the back of the card. It was a subtle mock, a trivial move by non-magi users that often annoyed Matilda herself but always wondered what it did toward elitist or zealots. Aflie had vanished and then two visitors showed, Matilda not knowing what they wanted and so she rolled another sleight of hand maneuver with her pulling the eight of spades, the nine, and the ten showing them playfully.
Looks like we are one card short of a straight flush, Matilda mocked as she just tossed the cards about the room as if part of the game when in fact all four sigil cards rested innate on the floor, waiting to erupt and dispel an attempt on her life. Matilda simply curtsied once more at the two waiting what would happen next. Now remember, that was just a freebie. So how about we get down to the nitty gritty here?
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