Today has decided to just throw surprises her way and see how many can she successfully dodge - before they smack her right into her face. Itâs been ... years. No, actually itâs been centuries - at least two, if not three - since sheâs last seen someone she once loved as honestly as sheâd love a younger, livelier sister. She cared for her that way, forgetting for a moment that they were no longer of the same specie ; that one was mortal and one was immortal ( well, immortal unless proved otherwise. ).
Now, theyâve been nothing but close strangers.
She hates the alienation between them, but ... she had had her problems back then when they met and dealing with a sisterly affection towards a human - with their limited lifespan - was not a good idea. It was a sacrifice she was unwilling to make, but a sacrifice that was necessary to make - Nara was a weakness she could not have, and over two centuries later, that weakness remains.
Ah, well now sheâs older and wiser - and the once mortal friend is now undead.
For a general of her caliber, she still had it in her to freeze on the spot, when faced with things she did not expect would come bite her in the derriere. It was just like a scene from one of those moving picture things that mortals are going wild about lately - gazes locked and time halting ... or something equally idiotic. To be fair, it wasnât destiny, or romance, or mind numbing joy she felt upon seeing Nara - it was surprise. A hint of regret, even. And not a small degree of apprehension.
Oh, this is going to be interesting.
Since they were now both aware of the fact that Cai was staring at her ( poor soul, she only hoped she wasnât starting holes into Nara. she does like her, after all. ) there was no point in beating around the bush. With a grace of a general accustomed to moving silently, gracefully and hastily, Cai found herself in her friendâs vicinity before she managed to reason herself out of it.
âIs it an apparition, or is it Nara, in flesh and blood? You havenât aged a day since Iâve last seen you.â She speaks, dark gaze surveying her friendâs appearance ; âYou look ... good.â
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location: Blood brawl ; the bar.
with: @ilvalentines
What kind of a mother-hound would she be, if she did not venture to the Brawl to support at least one of her pups? What kind of a future leader - better said - would she be if she failed to observe the members of her House going at it in the ring?
A terrible one.
Unfortunately, this fight we had come down to watch had been... well, not quite terrible, but it wasnât too great either. It seemed like the Cicadaâs prized bloodhound was doing more bleeding and less hounding. Had it been a simple fight ( without the glory of their House hanging by an ever-thinning thread ), she wouldâve been amused by it - amused and, damned her, pleased at the outcome. Right now, she was not pleased - or amused. She even bet on the asshole and this is what she gets? Is this a punishment from the Blood Gods for her betting? - not that she believed in any Gods ; but, it was easier to put her blame upon something that couldnât quite fight back.
If the God did intend to smite her, then sheâd like to see him try.
Deciding that taking a break from scowling at the battle in front of her, Cai ventured to the bar, leaning against the counter and ordering a strong drink ; Gods know she needs one right now. To be fair, she expected the bar to be fuller than it was, but disappointed that it wasnât as empty as sheâd hoped. Still, among so many familiar - and some unfriendly - faces, she noticed someone she did not have any problems talking to ; Valentine.
âAre you fighting or observing? I have to admit tonightâs performance leaves me disappointed - and dissatisfied.â A pause, as she sips on her drink, before ; âTo think my winning hound would be pummeled into dirt. I hope - in case you are placing bets - your choice fares better than mine.
He found no amusement in her words, though he supposed that her smile was possibly less of jest, and more of prideful disdain. But her words held truth to him, even if heâd rather be found dead than agree with her outright: one could nibble. Heâd much rather snap the whole hand off clean, though, he mused grimly. Whether that was truly what she thought, however, he could not say. And he was not willing to risk letting his own disloyalty show. Not to her.
âWith fangs that sharp,â he mumbled, running his tongue along his protruding canines, âone ought to act with caution.â He met her gaze squarely. There was no malice this time, words earnest and genuine, a fleeting reflection of the truth of his heart. Distrust settled where capillaries webbed, utterance more a word of warning against the others, rather than a suggestion that Cai was unable to control herself. Vampires were nothing but scums, after all.
But as he refused to express the quiet respect sheâs instilled in him, he too could not discern where truth and sarcasm meet in her own jabs. Did they see each other in the same light, perhaps only finding themselves on opposite ends of the war because of a bitter battle for the throne? Or was there something else in him that she truly hated, that transcended everything else? Did she hate him, whole? Her laugh stripped him of his thoughts, loose ends tucked further in the recesses of his mind for contemplation at another time.
âYou forget I am nothing but an underdog,â brow cocked, he too found a chuckle on his lips, though his own was tainted with a hint of bitterness. âYou, on the other hand⌠well letâs just say a leader who cannot guide her own pups to victory is something else altogether.â He cracked his knuckles, feigning nonchalance. âIf I were you, Iâd worry more about your standing in his good graces, rather than mine. After all, it is a very long fall.â
Cai had tried very, very hard to refrain from rolling her eyes. She succeeded, but it had almost been a losing battle ; still, if she had perfect control over anything in her life, she had it over her expressions - both facial and verbal. But, the warning was there - whether it was an unconscious decision or a malicious jab from Titus, she couldnât quite say ( sheâd have to use her power to sniff it out - but, the buzzing had been enough of an annoyance to render her unwilling to prolong the ringing. ) - so, she opted, for once, to view him in a more ... benevolent light.
âWords are sharper. Donât you think we ought to extend some caution to it as well? It seems our ... cursed lives would be much more enjoyable if we spoke less ... maliciously. If only for the pretense of peace, if the real one is unattainable.â It wasnât so much of a warning as it was an olive branch - or whatever the mortals nowadays called a shaky peace offering. She could certainly use a respite from incessant, relentless verbal daggers thrown her way - especially in these deadly trying times.
âUnderdog, indeed.â She hums, lips pursed in thought. He was an underdog, alright - but, an underdog with the right appendage attached to his person ; and that made him a much better candidate in their Headâs eyes than she ever will be - no matter how skilled, no matter how many victories she leads them into. But, he speaks again and she arches her eyebrow, debating whether she should display annoyance or amusement on her face - she opted for the latter.
âYou seem awfully concerned for someone who says he does not answer to me.â A light jab to his previous words, a soft smirk playing upon her lips. âA very long fall?â She retorts ; does the poor pup actually believe the Head values her before him, skill or no skill,¡ victory or loss? It was an amusing notion - so amusing she fought the urge to laugh. âPerhaps it is. Perhaps itâs not. I canât force my pups to train with me if they already have a better trainer in mind. I would worry more about winning the blood brawl than I would about my standing with our Father dearest. Iâve known my place with him since I first pledged for Cicada.â She knows her place, yes - but, she also knows sheâll fight with both iron and blood to change it.
little firefly, little thief, little frankenstein-monster running around with your mind half-screwed and your heart-ash littering the hallways â
you sit at the maw of danger and make a home out of it. does this make you brave or foolish?
soft blinking, then a stopping. papers still in their hands, then are carefully put away. the slight thing moves to sit on the edge of their headâs desk, and carefully presents outstretched wrists, pulling up sleeves to unveil the criss-crossing of patchwork scars of a human life.
âthen imprison me.â not said as a challenge, but a welcoming. a pleading, if you wanted it to be. âbut i am not a man, nor am i cicadaâs. if you want to execute me, then have it done by tybalt.â
said simply, said clear. what respect that is known is given almost subconsciously to the man, with little left for anyone else. there is an ease to the thought of the head to be the one to deliver the gracious blow.
âpoor cicadas. no wonder theyâre all so stiff.â they muse, shuffling sleeves down arms again. smiles are almost light, if not for how eyes are almost too-blackened. âif you were to kill me, would you do so in a way as dull as simply drying me out in the sun?â
How dramatic.
âTsk, we do not execute vampires for petty theft. Our numbers are already small, if we executed for petty crimes, we would all be long dead now.â Well, deader. Still, Cai eyes their hands with a quirked eyebrow, feeling the weight of her own scars - a whole arm. âYou seem awfully eager to spend a day in our cells.â She would have said night, but vampires had a different timetable from the rest of the world - day and night inverted, like a photographâs negative. âI would ask why, but I donât think you would be inclined to answer. Like you implied, you answer to Tybalt.â A smile, something that - had it been her pup before her - would have been seen as motherly ; perhaps even affectionate.
âShall we play fetch then? I call for Tybalt, and we bet how long it will take for him to answer. I think I can smell him somewhere down the stairs.â It is hardly a threat - a mere amusement. Once she would have fought tooth and nail - or, well, punches and fangs - for respect, but sheâs grown older since that. Battle worn and wiser. As Tybaltâs friend, she is pleased to see some loyalty shown to him - even if from a thief.
She snorts, a rather ungraceful way of displaying her amusement. âLaw is stiff, but if you would ever like your punishment to be more... creative, we can adapt. Never doubt a vampireâs imagination and inspiration to find more ways to inflict pain and misery onto its own kind.â
âAnd I donât bow down to you,â he countered, brow raised. Unlike that spineless dog, Zhan. Centuries under her belt meant nothing to him: it served no justification for her pride or derision, for heâd proven his mettle in less. Nine centuries against two. If anything, he should be the proud one, rising where others were still faltering, already running where others were still finding their footing. And where he lacked in experience, he made up for in spirit, ablaze where ember flickered, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. If she underestimated him, then that was her mistake. One that would cost her dearly.
Words were not his forte: he did not fashion weapons out of syllables. There was no point in the obtuse, no point in circling oneâs prey when it was time to sink oneâs teeth in. But if this was her chosen battlefield, then heâd fightâand winâ by her rules. Heâd show her just how sharp his teeth could get. âIs that contempt for a long-standing tradition I hear?â he taunted, voice low, âCareful not to overstep: we donât bite the hand that feeds us.â
House mantra echoed like a broken record, he was careful to hide his own disdain.
His laugh rang hollow, almost mocking. âI proved myself decades ago, without the need for vampire powers,â he spat, implication laced between the curves of his speech. Though he knew little of Caiâs history, if she prided herself in what she could give in her vampire years that much, perhaps there was little substance to her human ones. He cracked his knuckles, corner of his lips raising to mirror hers. âI am happy to lose,â he paused, finding the right words, âYouâll find merit goes beyond bloodshed.â
And I donât bow down to you.
There it was, again. For a while, she wondered what it was, exactly, that made him so hostile towards her - is it the age thing? she does count as one of the oldest vampires. Or perhaps something less... comprehensible to someone with a functioning brain, a reason so profoundly male and idiotic that her eyes would remain lodged in the back of her skull should she succumb to the urge to roll them. But, then ah! there it is! That little... tremor in his usual arrogance. Fleeting, perfectly veiled, yes, but with her gift she could... smell the change. That is how pheromones work - drawing someone in, sending them running for their lives, changing, manipulating or declaring the mood ( how flowers draw in bees to aid in their procreation ).
Interesting.
The smidgen of the power she used, no matter how brief and diluted, left a dull, ringing sound in her right ear - a tiresome mosquito buzzing just there - ah, at least it is not total deafness this time. âTrue. But, no one ever said we cannot nibble on it.â The amusement which tugs at her corner of her lips is evident - a private joke. She is rigorous, yes - but not blind. Law might be absolute, but it is fluid - and some outdated, barbaric habits should be grown out of - just like newborn vampires grow out of their consuming thirst.
âIndeed you have, and what a sight it was.â Cai says, though not all of it rings with mockery. He is a good soldier - perhaps one of the best. Unlike him, she would never spit on someoneâs talent. Her own rise in the ranks also came from her skill rather than her scent - aside from the Head only few knew of it, just like only two knew of her metal arm. A low chuckle leaves her lips as he talks again - undoubtedly another taunt - but, it is simply hilarious.
âOh, there is honour and merit in loss, indeed. But, dear Titus, you are a fool to believe that, should you lose - honourably or less so - our dear, dear, monstrous wolf of a Father would be as understanding. Cost him - cost out house - the honour of the decanter and rest assured any¡ good graces you have with him will be severely depleted.â
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He had intended on resting for the day: weary muscles were ready to give way to slumber after a particularly taxing training session. The rest of the House had found entertainment elsewhere, and while he did miss having Rakshasa as a sparring partner, Titus didnât particularly mind the solitude either. It seemed almost rare to come by, outside of his own quarters, and even then he could often hear quiet murmurs from his neighbours creeping along his room walls. So when the sound of heaving, and particularly heavy hitting punches greeted his ears on his way to the showers, it certainly piqued his interest.
It wasnât difficult to track the sound, but he hadnât expected to find her. The villain of his nightmares, finding physicality in this real world. Perhaps in another universe, he would have respected her. The grit and determination that left men on their knees in her wake, commanding attention and esteem amongst those who saw her kind beneath them. She was everything he valued, except when she was not. Eclipsed by her striking flaws and misplaced ambitions, there was nothing left of her he could revere, no iota of deference he could give.
âNo, glad I found you,â he scoffed, hospitality already abandoned, âNoticed youâre not up for the brawl.â Eyes never leaving her back, he took a few steps forward like a predator stalking its prey. If anything, though, she was no prey. She was an equal, his match, and he knew it. It was a pity he hadnât met her in the ring for the fateful match that would seal his punishing fate. But it was wishful thinking. âIn fact, I donât think Iâve seen you in a brawl before. Afraid to embarrass yourself?â
She had usually been the lenient one - the one who did not quite enjoy, unless necessary, to pick a fight with the hounds in her house. But, he was testing her patience with every tick of useless minutes. She turn to face him again, gaze cold, but with a hint of dark amusement lacing it as she spoke, the metal arm coiling around the punching back, steadying it with a hug - and with a promise sheâll rip it off its chain and hurl it Titusâ way should he continue with the same level of blatant disrespect he is currently approaching her with.
âSmall dogs truly are the most vexing.â Cai purrs, the watchful gaze turning from amused to annoyed as he continues to speak. âWatch yourself, Titus. I do not answer to you.â a quiet warning, a whisper of a growl bubbling in the pit of her throat. It there is one thing she despises, itâs when others assume her cowardice. Sheâd seen nine centuries of warfare - seen it long before Titusâ human ancestors were even thought of, let alone conceived.
She knows it is his attempt to vex her.
Had it been anyone else, she wouldâve sliced off a limb or two, in reprimand of course. But, it has been a long while since sheâs learnt to not be tempted by a younglingâs attempt of provoking her. So, she simply smiles. âForgive me for failing to see the point in bloodless bloodshed. One tires of petty fights after nine centuries of carnage.â She rolls her shoulders, ignoring the question completely - and countering with a jab she was certain would get to him ;
âI presume youâve enlisted? Good, good. Perhaps now you will finally find a way to prove your... unquestionable worth to our Head. If you win, that is. Quite an opportunity for you, Titus. I wonder, are you afraid? Loss happens to everyone.â She smiles, her thoughts briefly diverting to the metal arm she had concealed for nine centuries - finding irony in her own warning.Â
location: the barracks ; Cicada HQ.
with: @tarbattleborn
It was a quiet day. Too quiet. Usually, there wouldâve been some noises to accompany her ; the sounds of her fellow housemates traipsing about, arguing, training or enjoying a lazy moment. Now, there was nothing - not even a fly to annoy her with its incessant buzz.
It was a little suspicious.
Good things, such as a quiet moment of undisturbed serenity, rarely last for too long - comprehend them, and they fall apart, scatted like ashes on a windy day. Training was her way of venting, or calming down, and it was a good opportunity to head to the barracks without being followed by a pack of yapping pups. Her good graces of tolerating yapping pups extend to just the one pup.
as expected, her punching-bag induced serenity did not last for long - approaching footsteps and the annoyingly familiar scent breezing in moments before he entered. Aye, the wind has certainly changed and it reeks of hollow innocence - and of sweet, but naively idealistic, ideas.
âThere goes my peace and quiet.â Cai mutters, palm gripping the bag to steady it before she turns her head, gaze fixed upon Titus as he sauntered in. Fighting her eternal urge to roll her eyes whenever heâs in the vicinity, she turns back to the bag in front of her ; âIf youâre looking for the Head he should be in his quarters.â
âfireflies have a lifespan of a year. with that, iâm over a century overdue. at this rate, perhaps my lifespan will run backwards.â
the scientist does not look up as they speak, hardly perturbed at being caught at their headâs office. fingers continue to flip through the papers on the desk before moving to the drawers, pulling them open carefully.
âa creative threat, albeit not effective. iâll die as a consequence of my actions one day, but it wonât be by tybaltâs hand â at least, not over this. i do quite like the metaphor, though.â they finally look up, flashing cai a quick wink before resuming their search.
âi know he has the research findings somewhere⌠fucking⌠old geezer couldnât have put it somewhere that difficult to findâŚâ
a light pout, tresses of hair ruffled when they stand up straight again.
âwell? wanna help me out while we wait for tybalt? heâs not here â well, clearly. want me to pass on a message?â a slight tilt of heads, smiles almost friendly. âi think heâs got a box of crackers here somewhere, if youâre planning to stay. interested?â
Cai admires their audacity, truly. Though, given the younger vampireâs blatant disregard of any propriety, shame or self preservation, she kept wondering just how their lifespan endured for as long as it did.
Not effective? There is barely a soul in existence brave enough to disregard her purred out warnings, not when the tone is as hushed as it was mere heartbeats ago. This little thing has some balls. âHm.â she hums, a hint of amusement igniting her eyes, before the little audacious thing spoke again - and Caiâs last nerve started to become strained.
âAnd I thought herding the men in Cicada was a tiresome task.â Tongue clicks, a displeased tsk echoing from her mouth as head tilts to the side - displeasure of the vampireâs initial mischief now turning into a long overdue lecture.
Crackers were probably the last straw straining her already frail nerves. âAid you? In stealing? From your Head, no less. You know this is the third offense you did in less than a minute? First, breaking and entering. Second, an attempted theft - of classified, medical information, no less. And third,â she pauses, a mockery of a soft smile tugs at her lips before she continues ; âattempted bribe of a high ranked, military officer. I head the prison is lovely at this time of year. Plenty of sunlight.â
Amused by her own wit, she observes the little thief as the information sinks in.
This whole Blood Brawl thing was certainly getting out of hand. It was pointless carnage, gladiator games that did not even end in a glorious death. She fails to see the point in vampires tearing at each otherâs throat without actually tearing at each otherâs throats.
It was certainly an upgrade from the mindless bloodshed back in the day. But a downgrade in any sense of propriety or, well, good ideas. Honestly, they couldâve just played cards. Or Go. Have a sprinting contest. But no, their eternal lives will get so pitiful and dull if they donât - within the bounds of law - attempt to rip each other to shreds.
Men.
And now not only her favourite pup is attending, but also probably her only friend and had it not have been for the blasted arm ( the secrecy of it ) she wouldâve participated herself. Her plan was to visit Tybalt again and give him some more advice on fighting - if only to do her duty as a friend ; and a fighter - but something smelled... different in his office. It was a somewhat familiar scent ( in a way that scent of all vampires sheâs seen at least a couple of times in her long lifespan ), but not as familiar as to pin it to a face.
Cai had long since kissed her manners goodbye, especially when intruders are concerned ( and not having smelled her friendâs presence meant someone was intruding ), pushing the door open with an ominous creak. Wolfish smile tugs at the corners of her lips, gaze fixed upon the vaguely familiar vampire.
âYou know what they say about fireflies, dearie? They do not have a long lifespan, lesser so when they flutter in places they should not be fluttering in.â
Zhan Lei remained silent, watchful. He watches every tick in her expression, her every move, taking note of the amusement in her eyes and the sudden flash of worry. He briefly wonders if the mother hound is worried for him because she thinks he is still too weak.
I can never lose. She will be very disappointed.
He meets her eyes, and the reply was a curt: âUnderstood.â
With an obedient nod, he places the blindfold on himself as she circles around him. He had her scent memorized, and his nose senses her far better than touch, hearing, or sight could, and yetâŚas powerful as it is, Cai is right â his nose is also weakness. Not to mention the fact that most of vampirekind knows about it.
Zhan Lei is immobile for a few seconds, brain concentrated on her scent, trying to locate her. He suddenly bursts forth, not wasting time to throw a punch her way.
Cicadaâs pup is certainly eager to prove himself. She knows how that feels - even after nine centuries of being honed in a battle, she still has to prove herself, prove her worth as if she had not already done so centuries and centuries ago - over and over again. She nods, a quiet dip of her chin in acknowledgement, and remains silent while little carnage fastens the blindfold.
It was one of her brighter ideas - developed completely out of her own fear.
Zhan lunges forward and, had it not have been for her military training ( and centuries of living with men who think they can tackle her down to prove a Point whenever they please ) taking over her senses. She dodges, but a wave of approval coils around her spine. âGood. Again. Donât lash out, calculate. Hone your skill. It will be harder but more effective. Never forget the speed of a vampire.â
Shifting on her feet, Cai inches further away, slowing down her breathing and movement. Rely on your scent. Use it. Track. Pinpoint. Do what you do the best. She stills, waiting, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed, briefly wondering should she use her own skill - that could serve as a good lesson in expecting the unexpected.
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He spends what some might call an inordinate amount of time with Cai, at least, in the grand scheme of the time he has thatâs available to be spent. At her home or in the hospital, ensuring that things are running well â itâs become peace to him as much as any other routine. He shadows her doorstep without intent, this time, needling for conversation but not really knowing it. He doesnât let himself in, because itâs not polite, even if he knows Cai wouldnât think twice of it.
When she answers the door, he lifts his doctorâs bag. Itâs leather, always with a shine to it that leans towards perfection, with tools that heâs tailored specifically to the best usage when it comes to working with her. She deserves it, he thinks, more than anyone else among their kin, as blasphemous as that might sound. âSorry for dropping by unannounced, but I wanted to speak with you about something.â
Her sense of smell might be her strongest suit, but sheâs not completely deaf, either ( well, not yet, at least. not if she keeps a lid on her rosy power ). She could feel the... resident veterinarian of the war hounds ( and other blood thirsty beasts ) lingering on her doorway ; as if she had not repeated for over two centuries now that he is allowed to enter her premises without a polite, human knock.
It is not like she canât hear him without it, anyway.
She might be the only one who forgets the nuances of such human coded rituals - they meant something when she was in the human army, and they meant more while she clung to whatâs left of her humanity when she was turned. After nine centuries of living among vampires it became... pointless, tedious nicety. A way for the vampiric hounds of Hell to cling to whatever humanity they failed to mock. âDo not doddle and come in.â She calls out, the iron in her words ringing with a friendly warmth she held for, perhaps, only two souls in this universe - three, if she counts someone she has not seen in a very, very long time.
âOh?â Eyebrow quirks in surprise - and curiosity - and she turns in her seat, shrugging off the jacket to let the expert examine the wonder that is her enhanced arm. A thing of beauty, indeed. Hurts like a bitch when the weather changes, though - all battle wounds ache when there are ill winds in the air. âShall I prepare a box of tissues, Tyb?â
âOf course, mother. I have vowed to appear before you as promptly as I can whenever you call for me,â was the sterile reply, devoid of any emotion. Though the glint in his eyes and the minuscule quirk on the corner of his lips betray his understated playfulness.
Zhan Lei is confident, however, that Cai knows he meant every word.
âI am participating this time,â he declares, off-handed. Matter-of-fact. His hands work quick to unbutton the dark Cicada uniform, anticipating grueling hours of hell under his mentor-slash-mother figureâs harsh tutelage. After a brief pause, he adds: âI assume you wanted to know.â At these words, he looks up at her, looking to meet her eyes and wondering if heâd been right to assume.
A heartbeat passes ( or whatever the equivalent was for creatures like them ), and quick to move from one topic to the next, mechanical and methodic in his ways, he speaks again: âI brought a blindfold, as per your request.â
He tosses aside his discarded uniform, leaving only the thick black piece of cloth in his hands â his blindfold. Shirtless and bared of any weapon, his hands clasp behind his back, he stood patiently awaiting her instructions, like the obedient pup he was, and will always be. For her.
Mother.
It was a title she only allowed him to use. Had anyone else uttered it to her, she would have turned them into a blood smoothie within a minute. She was born and raised in a military camp devoid of any and all maternal instincts - it was a surprising, if not a little ironic, twist of events that made her take the Cicadaâs little carnage under her wing ; and so the Cicadaâs hound became her pup.
An amused smile tugs at the corners of her lips, the fond exasperation evident in her ever watchful gaze - yet, the amusement soon fades into something akin to approval ; mixed with only the faintest hints of worry. It was... a reasonable decision and not at all that unexpected ( though, being nine centuries old she finds very few things truly surprise her nowadays ). âI suspected you might be inclined to join the ruckus. That is why I summon you here. We ought to practice.â
Watchful gaze briefly skims over Zhanâs slender figure - careful to note any possible weakness, the military upbringing making her a perfect mentor to hone his skill. She still thinks he could use a more physical approach, tactics and good old fisticuffs when weapons are forbidden - or if his ability should overwhelm him. âGood, that is good. We will combine our usual practices. In the ring, you will not be allowed a weapon, unless it comes from your ability. Your nose is your advantage, but also a weakness.â She circles around him, inspecting, lips pursed in thought.
âOf course, since it is a fighting ring, you will have to engage. Letâs see if the strength of your punch improved as of late.â
locations: the barracks, Cicada HQ.
with: @steelecarnageâ
Time is relative in an eternal lifespan ; yet, considering how memory works, even nine centuries can seem to fly by in a heartbeat. If a century is a short time to her, then half of it is even shorter. It seems like it was only yesterday when the last Bloody event was hosted - and this marks the 24th instance of her politely declining any physical involvement in it. Once, she despised herself for it, for the secrecy of cold flesh being swapped for a colder metal, rendering her unwilling to fight for the glory of her house.
Now? Nine centuries old and, arguably, slightly less keen to beat the crap out of everyone in her line of sight, she is rather content to be on the sidelines, watching the event and judging the techniques of not only the Cicadaâs contestants, but everyone else participating in the event. However, there was one member of the house she wasnât quite certain would be submitting his name - and she rather wondered if he was up for it.
Normally, she wasnât the one to voluntarily fraternise with the majority of her house, but Zhan had been one of the select few exceptions to the solitary rule sheâs put on herself. If she was truly honest, sheâd be inclined to admit sheâs rather fond of the boy - but, sheâs always had a soft spot for troubled, lonely souls, especially it the said souls were often overlooked, or neglected. The curiosity over the impending Blood Brawl wasnât the only reason sheâs summoned him for a quick spar.
âYou come at an auspicious time, pup. Blood Brawl always renders Cicadas catching up on their long overdue beauty sleep. Weâll have the ring to ourselves and no interference.â
Nothing tied to the sense of smell has a material, tangible way of being perceived - a whisper, a breath, a breeze - those airy things have no solid form ; not like the other senses. Her power comes from nature ; can such subtle, seductive things truly be seen? Insects canât see the deadly trap of the Venus, maggots canât see the odor of rot which leads them to their prey ; no, the prey can never see, or perceive, the thing which draws them in, thing that closes around them, trapping them without notice until itâs too late to react.
but the hunter, too, can be affected by it.
----- & the sweet smell of R O T. -----
Where one sense takes precedence, the others are dull, dimmed down. If she was a mortal, her other senses wouldâve been lacking a lot more than they currently are - she can still see and hear things better than humans with her heightened vampiric abilities, she can still tell the difference between the smoothness or roughness of certain fabrics, surfaces and textures ... but, alas, her sense of taste is rather lacking. Itâs a secret well kept, but she canât really tell the difference between wine and blood - she only recognises them by the scent. Her taste buds are lacking at best ... completely ruined at worst. She canât taste blood, canât tell this type from that type ( she heavily relies on her sense of smell to determine if itâs animal blood, human blood, vampire blood or plain wine. ), canât tell sweetness from bitterness by taste alone - everything tastes like air in her mouth ( thereâs a difference between tasting ash and tasting air - ash has a certain taste while air has none. ).
However, sometimes, when she uses her power, she can... taste things. itâs not a real taste ; a mere illusion, of course, but it does make her feel a little bit better. After centuries of having on again - off again taste, it comes a pleasant surprise. But, such occurrences are rare and far in between. She is used to not tasting things, used to the fact that her power negates the buds on her tongue ; but what she is still not used to, is the fact that the more she uses her power, the weaker her other senses become - the more she uses the pheromones to immobilise or manipulate another personâs moods, actions or reactions ( weaving a shroud of illusions in her wake ), the less she can use her other senses.
It is a brief flash of blindness. Muted down sounds. Inability to speak for a second or two. She can never predict which sense her power will take ; but it always takes. & every time the lack of it lasts just a smidgen longer. How ironic it is - even vampires can feel an eternity in a minute ... especially when it becomes two minutes. or three. or, the longest so far, six. Itâs one of the largest reasons why she doesnât use her power as much as she could, or perhaps even should - it would certainly make her life easier in the House if she used it to manipulate and entrap all the rotten men who deem themselves higher and better than her.
----- taste of it stings like the iron left to R U S T. -----
Not many are aware of her power. The Head is, of course. As is the doctor. But, she doesnât trust too many with such a secret - not even her own House. She might, eventually, be ... persuaded to confide in another, but such decision is still too far from thought, or sight.
Her knowledge of her power is more theoretical than practical - for obvious reasons - but, she does have an almost perfect control of it. The more she controls it, the lesser is ricochet effect of it. The more she hones and controls the pheromones, the more she can resist the negation of her other senses ( the only other sense she kept clinging to, the only other sense which truly matters that she managed to keep, is the sense of touch. her power does not yet affect her sense of touch & she would much prefer to keep it that way. she can deal with blindness, she can deal with being deaf or not tasting thing, but the true absence of touch is mortifying. after all, if we lose all of our senses, except for touch, we still perceive ourselves as living ... but, lose the touch, even with all other senses intact, who is to say we are more than mere illusions? ).
She knows there will once come a day when she will be forced to go all out with her power and, while she remains the brave, solid, iron bloodhound, she is terrified of the day it happens. There is a catch to her power of pheromones - she knows that, if the limit of her power ever exceeds one hour, the loss of her other senses will be permanent. & the worst thing yet is that she never knows which sense her Smell will negate next - even if itâs only for six minutes, so far.
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Rising from the flesh of unholy divinity, SHE has sworn loyalty to the HOUSE OF CICADA as a PURE BLOOD vampire. Blessed by the blood moon, her power comes from her SMELL. Turned at the age of FORTY, she has walked the earth for OVER NINE CENTURIES.
POWER
Made of metal, hard to break - you are the epitome of strength and power, blessed with the ability to manipulate. And it is through pheromones where you can shackle and coil your enemies with precision, manipulation and persuasion, perhaps some of your favorite tactics. Listen, do as I say, you murmur through your lips - how glorious true fury tastes. But, even you have your limits. If you are a little careless, a touch too arrogant, your opponent could blind your sense of smell and freeze your whole resolve. Immobilized like an insect trapped under a glass jar. But youâre clever and ever so calculating, make the right move and your gamble can win you all that you could wish for.Â
HISTORY
TW: abuse
IF GOD WERE A MAN, YOU WOULDâVE EXECUTED HIM. YOU DID NOT WORSHIP, NOR DID YOU PRAY. YOUR FAITH WAS WHOLLY IN YOURSELF. War was etched into your bones, the bellicose nature of battle brigades your lullaby. Raised amongst a slew of military children with no one to call your parent, you fought like a weed to live and prove your worth. The laborious hours of training and toiling in the mud was your only stepping stone to becoming a somebody. But perhaps the harder challenge came regarding your sex. The patriarchal times would laugh in the face of little girls who spearheaded the ambition to conquer. You were better off not ruining your delicate hands, theyâd tell you, blindly unaware of the callouses that had long decorated your palms. Theyâd tell you girls were fragile but you couldnât help but let out a howl. Through bared teeth and growls, you rose to the challenge. You always have.
When you came across the opportunity to be the loyalist dog to a regime that you were all too comfortable fitting in, you embraced the netherworld. In the routine of justice and law, you had found your life calling. The strengthening of your abilities was certainly unquestionable. Even still, you know the gazes of vampire kind - waiting for you to make a single misstep. Even in close quarters, you find yourself head-to-head with inferior vampires who underestimate you simply because of your womanhood. But you merely remain stoic in attitude, your physical prowess silencing those who dared undermine your capabilities. You are a king among all men. Even now, youâve endured for centuries, your unwavering leadership indisputable. You can taste the power thatâs only fingertips away. With the Moon Decanter missing from its place, you know this is your very chance to cement your rightful place at the top of the pack. With the stakes never higher, you know all could be thrust in jeopardy should you succumb to failure. Your tongue bleeds as you refuse to entertain such a fate. Youâve worked too hard to return to ground level with your head tucked beneath your legs. You were never weak.
CONNECTIONS
TAR BATTLEBORN â ( THE NEXT HIT IS STRAIGHT THROUGH THE HEAD )Â
You despised men like him the most. If there was any other was adept as you, it was him. And of course he made it known with all his conceited pride. Perhaps once upon a time, there had been a friendly rivalry. If it was another world, perhaps you couldâve been friends. But at this point, there is nothing but vitriolic competition. He bares his teeth as you return the gesture to match his, two trained hounds ready for battle. As prideful as he is, you remain confident in your own abilities. He is just another obstacle that stands in your way and you are determined to cut him down just like everyone else. Heâll know his place once you dig your heel beneath his battered body as youâve done to the rest. Youâll wait for him to grovel for mercy until you are fully satisfied.
ONYX BEAKMASTERÂ â ( FINGERS OF A MAGICIAN )Â
He is one of the few that youâre capable of trusting. Without him, you wouldâve been put out of your work long ago. He has always welcomed you with open arms, medicine in one hand and bandage in the other. Youâre fiercely protective of his wellbeing. He is also one of the few that knows the extent of the injuries that youâve put yourself through. He knows the secret of your mechanical arm - the true one long lost back in the days of your humanity. In rare instances, you find yourself capable of divulging all the stories from your past as he offers his support and listens. In the silence, youâre more than grateful.
FALLOW FOOLEDÂ Â â ( SPEAK NOT BUT THE TRUTH DARLING DEAREST )Â
If you were ever to have a sister, she was the closest thing to it. You remember the days when you watched her grow up, her cheeks flushed pink and her smile as wide as the earth itself. But as you grew up, your paths separated. It wasnât until chance intervened that you crossed paths once more. Gone was the innocent girl who laughed under the sun. Something terrible had struck her soul and you saw the loss of life reflecting from her eyes. She begged for mercy at your hand and yet you could not bring yourself to do it. She was not an enemy, you could not strike her down as youâve done to others before. Instead, you intend to coax the truth from her lips. You visit her with gifts of nourishment and news but she has refused to budge. But your will is strong and you have never been one to easily give up. You will learn of the nightmares that haunt her and do what you do best: destroy them. Perhaps then, the little girl you knew would return.
This skeleton is TAKEN by Eva and is portrayed by VERONICA NGO.