Darren
Kurumu watched him go and frowned. She let her hair down and closed her eyes. It was not a happy thing to see someone so thoroughly destroyed in mind and soul. In fact there was a great sadness welling in her heart. People played with characters, that is the reality of their situations, if she had not contextualized her own existence, then she would have surely gone mad ages ago. A soft hand tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find a time-worn friendly face looking kindly at her. his voice was sympathetic when he spoke, and it meshed with the soft rustle of his red overcoat. A few words, kind words of convalescence, wisdom, and advice. Then he took off down the hall, his boots rattling softly against the floor, and his silver pistol hanging to his side.
Kurumu smiled, and nodded. You can't save them all, but you can do your best to remember them as they were. The White Mages returned shortly, their brilliant red hair bright against the white of their robes. they motioned gently, asking where the other one was. Kurumu pointed forward down the hall, and the two White Mages hurried toward Darren, eager to exhume him from the sanctuary. Kurumu put her hands behind her head and gave a long drawn whistle, staring off into the hallway long after everyone had gone. Red Mage's corpse still lay in the room, broken and bloodied. Another Red Mage would step in to take his place soon enough. The clamoring for a spot in sanctitude was great.
Kurumu started forward, returning to the main hall where the Christmas Ball should just be finishing. She could faintly make out the drunken speech of one barbarian king in the distance, and the groans of very many proper kings. Then suddenly she felt cold, she gripped herself and shivered uncontrollably. A dark shadow passed through the hallway, darkening all the lights. The very air seem to turn to stone. Then as suddenly as it came, it passed. The lights returned and the warm air hit her lake a gale, knocking Kurumu off balance. She looked around her, surprised. Nothing like that had happened before.
---
In the great hall people were chatting away, screaming, yelling, all the like of merrymaking. the last of food was carted out on silver trays, and vast platters of sweets and confectionaries dotted the air with their perfumes and aromas. Cakes crafted out of cream and sugar, ambrosia atop chestnut roasted tarts, lemon cakes dripping with honey, soft roasted glazed ham, candied fruits of all assortments, and every now and again there was the odd cup of frozen delights, artfully crafted by ice magicks by caring and loving hands. Darren stood out in this crowd. He had wandered in unaware of his location, looking only for the doors that brought him into a personal hell. The clamoring of the crowds suddenly rose to a crescendo, striking out dissonant chords into a reverberation of terrible noise. And all of a sudden there was a cold darkness, as if all the air and light had been sucked from the room. A terrible shadow that cast itself across the air of the room, obliterating the chatter and happiness. His amorphous being consumed reality and sent screams of terror and horror up into the high halls, He formed, his body an unreal mass of swirling ink. He lashed out, dark eyes adorned his being and swallowed the light with ravenous hunger. He consumed all, he consumed everything. But the only he touched was Darren.
Darren was consumed in the dark, obliterated by the formless chaos. He was disassociated and spread across countless stars and reformed over and over again in the span of a moment. The next he open his eyes, he was filled with a euphoria. Sunlight, beautiful soft sunlight and the cold Atlantic wind tickled his face. A grassy knoll stretched out behind him, and a calm ocean danced before him, twinkling in the light of the afternoon sun. He didn't know anything anymore, just that he was consumed by an overwhelming sense of nostalgic happiness.
He was lost, deep, deep inside the great body of that creature without master. He who wished to remake the world in beautiful favor.
[HEADING=2]Bad End[/HEADING]
Deborah | Titania
"Be a dear and put tanning oil on my back won't you?" Titania sighed, laying against the warm sand. Her breasts pressed tight under the weight of her body on a silk blanket, colored alternating white and red. The sun shone bright above them and Deborah shot Titania a dirty look from her seat about four feet away, under a large beach umbrella. The Black Sea stretched out before them, twinkling with effervescence; sea foam against the ray of the sun. Deborah scowled and got up. She was still wreathed in the dark blue veils of her sorcerer's garb. The heat was making her incredibly unamiable. But, a thrall to a young *****, she knelt down next to Titania, her skin a white pallor, and massaged the oil tenderly into her back. Deborah's hands swept over the arcs of her shoulders and down her flank, dressing each inch with a professionally thin coat of the oil.
"You're going to get burned," she said. Titania scoffed and hit Deborah on the head lazily with the back of her hand. Deborah unlaced Titania's top and applied another coat to the groove of her back.
Titania gave a sigh of satisfaction. Then she remembered something important. "Deborah, how's our intrepid adventurer doing in his journey to summon the White One?"
Deborah put down the lotion bottle and wiped her hands on her robes before producing a thick leather bound tome from the depths of her bag. She licked her finger and flipped through the pages until she found the passage detailing Darren's awful end at the hands of BlackHarte. She paused and closed the book forcefully.
"No good?" Titania said.
"No good," Deborah answered.
"Killed or converted?" Titanis flipped over, placing her small hands on her chest to keep the top in place. Deborah looked at the young white-haired girl and frowned. "Converted, my least favorite of the words using 'c' as a hard 'k' constant. Who was it, and what other casualties?"
"Red Mage also perished. Both were at the hands of Kusanagi." Deborah gave a dry laugh, "But he isn't one to stay dead is he?"
Titania shook he head. "No he isn't. Though he is regaining his old powers, I fear he is rapidly becoming useless for the upcoming fight."
"He has become rather dimwitted," Deborah said.
"Indeed," Titania agreed. The Queen of the Fey looked at Deborah and gave her a good once over. Then she commanded lazily, "Kiss me."
"I won't."
"Not even for your freedom?"
"Not even for my freedom."
Titania turned and lay rest her chin on her arms again, closing he eyes to better enjoy the dying rays of the sun. "Back to work then."
"Back to work then." Deborah picked up the bottle again and se to work on Titania's legs.
Cz | Deadshot | Lucieon | Garm | Rugal
"Grrk," Lucieon said. His eloquence struck everyone in the room with an sense of astounding revelation. They realized in fact, that Lucieon was indeed on the ground, and hurt. Cz glared at Deadshot, her dark raven hair wet from the sprinkler clung tightly to her long white robes, which in turn was now stuck tightly to her skin. She was wet, cold, and uncomfortable. Not to mention that she was still tied up. Though she managed to retain some of her demeanor.
"Could we get me untied before we launch into any long winded stories about hookers and fires?"
