#alviawrites

It had been months. Months of disguises, of hiding away, of not showing his face, or any skin at all, using illusions to disguise his voice, using clothing as a tool perhaps to stand out, but never in the way that he was used to. He fought valiantly, using his power to aid others, a completely foreign concept to him until recently, though it was selfish. He was bored, he was not receiving enough attention, he needed to accomplish things and earn respect. He always drew amusement out of being underestimated, but this... this was a new feeling, that of immediate respect.  He had three distinct personas that he’d put on over the past few months. There was that he was most comfortable and most practiced in, the fel-infused firemancer: wielding felfire and utilizing immense power to vanquish anyone he pleased. He kept his form very similar to himself, though added a bit of muscle bulk, looking not nearly as emaciated as he normally did. Regardless, every inch of his snow-white skin was covered in fabric, either dark, or brightly fel-colored. He kept his hair tucked away in a hood, his face covered in a large, toothy mask, the only things visible being his fel-lava colored eyes.  There was the plague master, a wielder of pain and sickness, utilizing shadow and fel, as well as his alchemy skill in order to corrupt the life of people who stood in his way. Some of these effects killed slowly, others very rapidly, but all were painful to the victims. His mask was vaguely reminiscent of those of plague doctors, though it was more ambiguous. His eyes were fully hidden behind the mask, the rest of his form emaciated further and hidden in dark blues and saturated purple cloth.  Then, there was the subjugator of demons. He used a female form for this one, though he did not have to change his form much at all in order to accomplish this. His clothing was dark, filled with reds and oranges, his face completely hidden by a thick black mask.  He was tired. The war had been over for others, with the Legion defeated. His war seemed to just be beginning. Today, he was in green, and he hurriedly stripped himself of all of his clothing when he arrived in his hotel room. A little black cat was curled up on the bed, lifting its head and blinking striking green eyes at Zari. The warlock had not even bothered to put on any other clothing, just flopped against the bed, his pitch black hair pooling around his pale skin. He sighed heavily.  He looked to his cat. “Fizrik... what am I doing? I’m absolutely running myself ragged, and for what? What are we accomplishing?” The deep bass of his voice contrasted with his feminine form, his work illusions dissipated. The cat canted its head at Zari, and gave a little mew. The warlock rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t give me that shit, answer me.” The cat quickly shifted into a little fel imp, cackling. “Boss, if ya ain’t enjoyin’ it, don’t do it. You’ve always been about pleasure-seekin’, an’ I never understood the sudden change.” He sighed heavily. “I know, but... you know I don’t really have a--” He was cut off by the shimmering of a portal, and he sat up in his bed, eyes wide, his hair falling about his shoulders.  The elven man who stepped through was tall and muscled, sporting long, silver hair and death-pale skin. He wore an elegant black suit, tailored to fit his lithe form beautifully, his gaunt face sporting a sneer. “Mm, what’s this? Done for the day already?”  Zari sighed heavily. “I’ve done what you’ve asked, Ahnregard, you’ve no reason to barge in here like this.” He seemed more deflated than heated, trying to dismiss the man.  “Mm. How many have you gathered?” The silver-haired man’s voice was low and silky, but perpetually held a dangerous edge to it.  “Twelve.”  “...and Anriel?”  Zari’s jaw clenched. “I just got home, I have not seen her yet. She averages ten per day, you know that.”  Ahnregard nodded slowly, then made his way over to the little man. He wrapped a hand around his neck, just under his jaw, tilting Zari’s head up and locking eyes with him. “You are -mine-. You’ve made the deal, and you will fulfill your end of it.” With that, he lifted the little warlock from the bed, forcing his lips to the little warlock’s, Zari’s eyes squeezing shut, but complacent otherwise...