GothicVampire
Mein Name Ist Lucifer
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2008
- Posts
- 1,210
The OOC to this thread. And the older Twin lies here!
(NOTE: No one is to post until Unseen and I have given the CLEAR! If you post, we will hunt you down and CHOP OFF YOUR HEAD... All in the name of The Queen of Spades!)
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“One day, you’re going to die.
“Your life will just end, right then and there.
“You will be no more.
“It probably won’t be pretty like in the movies or in fairytales. Maybe something extraordinary will happen, but probably not. Some people have enough energy to say or do something meaningful right before they die. And that’s nice. But that is uncommon. Usually, people just die. And you’re going to die, too. Some people will say nice things to make you feel comfortable before you die. Others will tell you wild stories that say you’re actually not going to die, but those people are only nice, not honest. Because you really are going to die.
“There are many ways to think about dieing, many stories to tell and different things to think dying is like. But death happens to all mortals the same way, no matter which way they think about it. Everyone dies and is no more. Because mortals are good at making up stories and believing them, you may begin experience dying in a way that may fit one of your stories. But that is okay, if you wish to believe in such mendacities. But then you’ll die and it won’t matter what story you had. When you die, you won’t be able to see if your story was right or not, because there will be no story or person to believe or compare stories with. You will be dead.
“You won’t go anywhere and you will not even stay in the same place, because there will be no “you”. There won’t be anything and there won’t be even nothing, because you won’t be there to feel that there is nothing. There won’t be forever because you won’t be there to feel there’s forever. You will be dead. And you won’t be able to think; “Gee, I’m dead.” Because you won’t be able to think or feel or be anything besides dead when you’re dead.
“Death can happen at any time. Sometimes little babies die. Sometimes mothers and fathers die. And when people get too old, after they have had lot of life, they die. And you’re going to die, too. Naturally or not, it’s all the same when you‘re dead. Sometimes it hurts when you die, and other times people don’t feel a thing. We only know what people say and do right before they die. After you die, you won’t feel anything. Not even pain. But mortals still alive might hurt because you are gone. Mortals who love other mortals usually hurt when corporeality they love die, sometimes only having to stare down at the lifeless corpse before what they believe is “the final ending”. But they were already dead, they are no more. Foolishly, you even comfort yourselves that the being is not really dead. But of course, everyone dies. And you will, too.
“When you say, “I want this” or “I feel this”, you are talking about yourself… Out of selfishness. You might think yourself is being different from the rest of the world or you might think you are just a little part of the world. But when you die, yourself dies and so does your view of the world. So you won’t have a world or a self or any thoughts about either because you just won‘t exist. When you die, you won’t feel sad anymore, you won’t worry anymore, you won’t care about anything, or want anything. You won’t even enjoy being dead, because you won’t be anything, only dead.
“That is why you should love life, live it to the fullest, while you still have it. Do whatever it is you desire, even if that desire is to rule the world. Go out with a bang, if you wish. Or just simply waste it. What you do with it is your choice.
“There are lots of things in life that seem bad, but since life happens since once, and there is only one “you”, live life while you can. No matter what happens. If you feel sad, at least you can feel sad. If you are worried, at least you can be worried. You exist. You are alive. If you love life this way, when it comes time to die, you will be happy because death is the perfect end to life. Life is only good because death ends it. So live and love life… Because you don’t even know how, when or why, but since you’re alive…
“You’re going to die.
“And there is no cure for any mortal.
“And if you are flat-out against me, you’re surely going to die. You’ll be dead. Nothing more.” Lectured the young boy rather promisingly, and his tone was indeed grave and cold as death itself.
The woman across from him could only stare at him, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.
Here he was, soon to be turning eight and was speaking of such vile and stomach-churning philosophies, let alone had been seen speaking in tongues. It was utterly amazing he could formulate thoughts as complicated as this in the first place. A child at this age would be considered intelligent and completely innocent of such acts, the latter possibly the fact of being under a different influence that was not of their own, but this one was different. Despite his glowing complexion, his beautiful shining white hair, and having the appearance of what could be described as belonging to an angel, he was not. In fact, far from it. Zatanna Zatara knew better.
His golden eyes flickered, shining as if the flames of hell seemed to have been trapped within him. His eyes betrayed his innocence, and with one look it was like he could see through your very soul, finding every flaw that was known or kept away in secret. His penetrating gaze had enough power to stab you through the heart, that is, if he really wanted to. But no, for fear seemed to be his ploy for now at the time being , like a playmate whom he was now sharing his toys with. The toy, of course, at the moment was none other than her herself.
“And if you are fortunate, there will be only a tombstone to remember you by.” He continued, his back turned to her as he stared out the window, his hands clutching the bars through the window’s glass of his bedroom. “Not that it matters, in time those engraved letters will inevitably erode away…”
It was pouring cats and dogs outside, the crackling of thunder was so booming as lightning danced fervently through the afternoon sky. The woman could not tell if it was night or day anymore, the sky was so dark around here and had been so for quite a long time, as the withered foliage had foretold. Not that you could get a living plant near him. Even her corsage had suffered he same fate for it had instantly dried up once she had entered his room, the life that was left in the rose drained completely away, the once red peddled had turned black before crumbling apart. She was just grateful it was the rose and not her.
“Once you’re dead, your corpse will decompose, your remains devoured by the maggots, buried six-foot underneath this world’s soil, placed inside a confined box. You are nothing more than worm chow, who is yet to be devoured by the crow. This process continues on until you are nothing. Not even excrement, nor compost.” He said with a tinge of zeal, his prehensile tail twitching a bit. “Though, you won’t know how you will die. And I will make sure you will be no more.” He paused for a moment as he let out a malevolent giggle. “And there won’t be anyone, not even God, who is there to save you. Not that he ever cared to begin with. In fact, he doesn’t even exist. Just look around. If he did, why does the world suffer so? Can he not hear them? Or does he selfishly decide to turn a deaf ear to it? Why is “The Great Equalizer” still renowned and feared by all who are not immortal? ...Perhaps he has a sick sense of humor and finds hilarity in people's suffering, sitting upon his golden and jewel incrusted throne as he spectates?”
He turned and looked at her, a depraved grin played upon his lips, defiling his innocence, and his eyes almost darkened to the point of seeming like coal, coal which burned inside of a furnace. “The answer is simple. There is no God, only I.” He stated as if he was suddenly stricken by an epiphany. “When you think about it, that makes me God, doesn’t it? I’m the master of fate. Soon the whole world will low and behold me and gaze upon my splendor as I spread my wings, the bringer of the end of all things. The choice is your’s if you wish to walk down a dark tunnel. Because I can eliminate you completely.”
She had sat there for what seemed like hours, watching and listening to him rant endlessly about anything that came to mind. She had been here since early this morning, along with her cousin Zachary. Of course, before upon entering the child’s domain, his mother had informed her of what had been taking place since all this had began.
And it all started when the poor kid was ambushed by the town’s older kids, hitting the child with rocks in an act of trying to stone him to death. The children did not live, of course, all them suffering terribly gruesome deaths, which caused the family all the more tribulations, starting with the fact that the people were enraged by the little demon‘s subsistence. Up until then, no one knew that the hell-spawn had even existed, being that his mother desperately tried to maintain his sheltered life, making sure he had no record of being alive whatsoever, not even the proof of him being ever born.
Or should she say, SHE? Yes, before she was born, she was, in fact, a female, but afterwards, and a bit of an unsettling thought, she was not. In fact, she had lacked a gender completely until she was the age of three. Any normal parent would have had a permanent case of the willies from that. Nevertheless, the woman wanted her child back the way he was, the “little angel” she knew him to be. Of course, only a mother could love such an vile child such as this.
That in it’s own was going to be a grueling task to achieve, in truth, it appeared utterly hopeless. Already, since the first incident, their lives have been dramatically shaken. The magician knew that the evil inside of the child had always been there, needing only the chance to rear it’s ugly head, especially in the sake of when trouble came around the corner. However, the series of events that had followed did not help the case in the least, in effect, made it all the more worse. Not only did they suffer from numerous attacks upon their lives, but all the more disturbing was the fact that even some of the servants had been driven into madness, doing themselves in, right before the child’s very eyes so that he could see. “Acts of devotion” is what the now deceased servants had called it.
Zatanna fought the urge to shake her head upon all of this, this catastrophe. At this point she was driven into a quandary. She had the choice of either trying to aid the family in this situation and hope for the best, or to just do the whole world a rather large favor and try to completely rid the child of it’s infernal existence. Anyone with the right sense would send this reincarnated evil back to which it came. However, the conjurer could not find herself to relinquish the world of it. After all, it was a child, and she found it not in her heart to do so herself or grant anyone else the privilege to do so.
“I’m not against you.” She spoke finally. “In fact, I am here to help you…” She hesitated for a moment before she spoke his name. “…Jullian.”
“That’s not my name.” He stated cheekily.
Zatanna bit her bottom lip at his reaction.
The young demon then eyed her suspiciously, raising his chin up and tilting his head a bit. He studied her and her choice of garb, which was different from her usual choice of clothing.
“Who are you?” He ordered her to answer, as if his personality had suddenly switched. In fact, he actually seemed to switch between voices as well. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Sent by this lowly town’s insignificants, the extraneous sad excuse of putrid meat sacks?” His eyes widened as he began to panic, the fear of what he imagined would come once realizing that. It was the faintest sign left that he was still a child, the very child that his mother was bent on saving. “You’re here to take me to that infernal asylum, aren’t you? Want to lock me up and throw the bloody key?” He jumped onto his bed, crawling backwards away from her. “Well, you can’t! I won’t let you!” He spat the latter venomously at her, his voice was that of many and was as powerful as the thunder itself.
Then suddenly, room grew dark, pitch-black, despite having been lit by the ceiling lights and lamps, which flickered on and off as the room also began to quake along with a mighty turbulence. The lightning flashed radically outside of the window, but not even it was enough to light up the room. The books flew from their proper places from the shelves, inexplicably flapping about like wild birds as other objects joined them in the winds of a supernatural tornado, the two of them in the eye of the storm.
The child’s eyes glowed fiercely and his body seemed to have had an illumination that was more ominous than just plain eerie. And just as things could not get all the more unsettling, the floor began to buck up and down repeatedly out of place, a daunting red glow shining underneath them through the cracks. The floor then suddenly split itself in half.
Just then, she heard it, wails emitting from the floor below. She clung onto her chair in response, raising her feet from the floor out of trepidation as ghoulish hands reached up to grasp upon anything they could manage to get their hands on. It was not like she had never seen such horrors before, no, more like she did not wish to perish this way. Not exactly on anyone’s top ten list on “how one desires to shed one’s mortal coil”.
She looked pleadingly up at the child, her heart racing so fast that her head felt like it was about to pop off from massive blood flow. “Jullian, please! Calm down! I am not here for any of that which you think I am for!” She cried out to him over the ceaseless racket, hoping to reach and reason with him. “I just want to help you! Just to talk! I mean no harm! If I was, do you honestly think your mother would have personally requested me to come? Do you think she would trust me?”
Abruptly, everything came to a halt, objects falling dead onto the floor, and the darkness was immediately lifted. Everything had went back to normal, minus the fact that the room was now in a complete mess, with papers, books, and other objects scattered from here to Montezuma. Out of nowhere, just when one would think it was all over with, anything breakable had then exploded into tiny particles, the shattered remains glisten like pixie dust.
Zatanna held her breath, looking around for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh of relief when she realized that was it. She looked back over at the child and low and beheld how he trembled, hugging his legs to him as if it were a source of comfort. Perhaps there was hope yet for the child. However, looking at his circumstance, an old and familiar quote suddenly crept into her mind…
The quote seemed to fit the child perfectly. The innocence that once was Jullian’s, without a shred of doubt, was lost, mostly if not entirely. The only hope that was left for the child was if his inner evil was to be suppressed. It was for the good of the world, not just for himself.
“Are you alright in there?” She heard Zachary ask her telepathically, concern laying heavy in his voice.
“Yes, I am fine.” She, like wise, answered back. “No worries, just yet.”
“No worries?!” He exclaimed, disbelieving her. “Zat, don’t think--”
“I’ll call you when I need you!” And with having said that, she cut off their psychic link.
Zatanna brushed her hair back with her fingers before she tried her best to smile warmly at the child, hoping he would not have another episode like he just did. “So, shall we begin, Prince Reficul?” She inquired gently, treating the subject with great care. “Tell me about these…experiences you have? These powers you possess? Shall we begin there?”
~The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
Modo he's called, and Mahu.~
~I called the devil, and he came, And with wonder his form did I closely scan; He is not ugly, and is not lame, But really a handsome and charming man. A man in the prime of life is the devil, Obliging, a man of the world, and civil; A diplomatist too, well skilled in debate, He talks quite glibly of church and state.~
TEN YEARS LATER
LOCATION: JUMP CITY - St. Mary's Vale of Tears Church
It was the middle of the day and yet this ruined chapel was as dark as night complete with the stars that glimmered all around as she walked down the aisle as if she owned it. Which, in fact, she did. Maybe not legally, but well whoever once had was either long dead or smart enough not to try and stake a claim. Despite the many territories of the city and the constant gang fights disputing who owned what, the fact of the matter remained. She owned them all, body and soul. This city was a world of her own creation and she gleefully spent each day watching their own corruption destroy them. It was beautiful, this work of hers, and she would have it no other way.
“I have missed you, my pet. Your screams still caress me to sleep at night, such a sweet melody.”
Twining her fingers into the metal lattice work that separated the Queen of Spades from the girl, she smiled at her, a mixture of lust and greed in her eyes as she ran briefly over the fond memories of breaking her. It was a pity that she had turned out so useless when she was done with her. A bit more restraint shown on her part and this girl that the commoners had dubbed an oracle would still make a good plaything. Still, she didn’t regret. The Queen never regretted any of her actions. It had been so much fun, after all, tearing her open time and again. Moaning softly to herself, she pressed her body against the metal as she wondered, not for the first time, if she couldn’t play with her just a little more.
Oracle did nothing to show that she even knew the Queen was there. Fingers moved mechanically as she pulled threads through the loom and weaved without seeing the pattern. It was not that she didn’t see, hear, or know. It was that she did with everything constantly. Her lips moved, the soft sound of mumbling coming from them, whole worlds contained in her speech, told to herself as stories that she had no choice but to tell. Watching her, the Queen grew annoyed with her lack of response, banging a hand against the metal, her eyes shimmered a disturbing black for a moment before she calmed herself.
“You know why I am here, pet. You know what I require of you. Come. Speak and let me see.”
Her voice was cajoling, caressing, and most were wise enough to never trust it for it never meant anything good for them in the long term. Still, it was a pity that Oracle had no choice but to answer, her fingers never left her weaving as she turned her head to look her majesty in the eye.
“She burns. She burns like the sun! Why does the darkness press so? Let the candle light the path of the stars! You must before she is consumed! Too late.. too late.. not enough. must add more red.”
Silence fell once again save for her mumbling words and the sound of the shuttlecock has it pressed the woven threads into place. Her Majesty was thoroughly disgusted, staring at her pet as she mentally went over whether what coherent information the chit did give her was worth keeping the little bitch alive and, if not, what would be the type of death to give her the most enjoyment. Something with the loom perhaps. No, she needed her for now. She’d had her minions comb this city five times over and with no luck. People were disappearing, but not like they usually did. They hadn’t left and they weren’t on the many burning piles of corpses that always filled the sky with their dense black smoke. She hadn’t cared at first, but then some potential pets she’d had her eye on left as well. The Queen didn’t like her things going away without her permission. She would find them and then she would make whoever had been taking what was hers beg for the sweet peace of death.
Suddenly a creaking sound echoed through the space of the cathedral, the light from outside spilling into the dim room that was only lit by candlelight. Numerous felines scurried away from the opening doors, rushing towards the back of the ancient structure out of fear of the one who made her way in. The doors rumbled as they closed behind her, a sound most would find haunting, sounding more like a dead man’s groan than anything else. It became dim once again, revealing the stars that blanketed the walls and ceiling, a resemblance of how heaven’s alter was supposed to be. The Minster’s interior was also embellished in gold, a work of fine craftsmanship, detail was seen everywhere, even in the tiniest piece. And all but one glass stained window had been boarded up, which happened to be the largest one, and below it sat the conduit, right behind the iron grate.
The small green lady casually walked inside, paying no heed to the cats as they hissed adversely, their backs arched, their tails twitched, and their claws ready to defend their lives. And who could blame these creatures for their animosity? After all, she was no mere lady, but a replica of the Angel of Death, and she lived up to that name greatly. She had the power to make people kill themselves if not by her own hand, using strands of her mystical black hair to slice them up or simply pulling on their life strings. All the more daunting, she was also the Queen’s Herald.
Deathwish was a demon, she had the horns and the prehensile forked tail to prove it. She also had wings, similar to a gargoyle’s, only they were covered luxuriously in black feathers, and her wingspan was at least a good nine feet. Once inside, however, she had folded them away, making them disappear all together. Her style of dress was similar to a flapper girl’s, however, though gothic in fashion, she appeared more like a magician’s assistant with that small top hat upon her head. In short, she really appeared really obscene, sporting in what looked to be highly fashionable under-roos, a hat, lacy fingerless gloves, fishnet stockings, and pair of pumps.
She strutted over to the iron grate, an evil smile across her face, making her seem all the more reptile. Usually a melancholy girl, the grin she wore derived from the fact she had fantastic news, news that only the Queen and herself could find pleasure in. Her Queen would be so pleased when she has been informed what she had found.
She glanced at the Oracle, the woman’s empty solid white eyes never lifting from her object of fascination, continuing her weaving as if it were more a important endeavor. The girl brushed her hands on the iron grate, caressing it passionately before she turned her attention towards the Queen of Spades. She then came before her and lowered herself onto her knees, bowing her head respectfully like a small child in prayer.
“Permission to speak, My Queen?” She spoke softly, her words dripping with veneration for the older woman. “I have splendid news, your Majesty.”
Once she received the okay to, she looked up at her Majesty with an impious tinkle in her eyes.
“I spied with my little eye trespassers of the righteous variety. At the Tower located on the isle in the bay.” She informed. “One I’ve seen before, pity he has betrayed you, My Queen. The others I do not know, but I have sensed them residing there within the abandoned headquarters for heroes.” She paused for a moment. “But there is more, I sense something else…something unlike the others.”
“It was someone, someone much darker, foreboding.” She conveyed in a state of awe. “An individual with enough power to punch a hole through this world and into the next, possibly through numerous dimensions.”
(NOTE: No one is to post until Unseen and I have given the CLEAR! If you post, we will hunt you down and CHOP OFF YOUR HEAD... All in the name of The Queen of Spades!)
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In the midst of the darkness,
the evil did show
It brought pain and suffering
To those who finally know
And with a twitch of it’s finger
It made them all cry
Yet the worst was to come
Right soon after they die
the evil did show
It brought pain and suffering
To those who finally know
And with a twitch of it’s finger
It made them all cry
Yet the worst was to come
Right soon after they die
“One day, you’re going to die.
“Your life will just end, right then and there.
“You will be no more.
“It probably won’t be pretty like in the movies or in fairytales. Maybe something extraordinary will happen, but probably not. Some people have enough energy to say or do something meaningful right before they die. And that’s nice. But that is uncommon. Usually, people just die. And you’re going to die, too. Some people will say nice things to make you feel comfortable before you die. Others will tell you wild stories that say you’re actually not going to die, but those people are only nice, not honest. Because you really are going to die.
“There are many ways to think about dieing, many stories to tell and different things to think dying is like. But death happens to all mortals the same way, no matter which way they think about it. Everyone dies and is no more. Because mortals are good at making up stories and believing them, you may begin experience dying in a way that may fit one of your stories. But that is okay, if you wish to believe in such mendacities. But then you’ll die and it won’t matter what story you had. When you die, you won’t be able to see if your story was right or not, because there will be no story or person to believe or compare stories with. You will be dead.
“You won’t go anywhere and you will not even stay in the same place, because there will be no “you”. There won’t be anything and there won’t be even nothing, because you won’t be there to feel that there is nothing. There won’t be forever because you won’t be there to feel there’s forever. You will be dead. And you won’t be able to think; “Gee, I’m dead.” Because you won’t be able to think or feel or be anything besides dead when you’re dead.
“Death can happen at any time. Sometimes little babies die. Sometimes mothers and fathers die. And when people get too old, after they have had lot of life, they die. And you’re going to die, too. Naturally or not, it’s all the same when you‘re dead. Sometimes it hurts when you die, and other times people don’t feel a thing. We only know what people say and do right before they die. After you die, you won’t feel anything. Not even pain. But mortals still alive might hurt because you are gone. Mortals who love other mortals usually hurt when corporeality they love die, sometimes only having to stare down at the lifeless corpse before what they believe is “the final ending”. But they were already dead, they are no more. Foolishly, you even comfort yourselves that the being is not really dead. But of course, everyone dies. And you will, too.
“When you say, “I want this” or “I feel this”, you are talking about yourself… Out of selfishness. You might think yourself is being different from the rest of the world or you might think you are just a little part of the world. But when you die, yourself dies and so does your view of the world. So you won’t have a world or a self or any thoughts about either because you just won‘t exist. When you die, you won’t feel sad anymore, you won’t worry anymore, you won’t care about anything, or want anything. You won’t even enjoy being dead, because you won’t be anything, only dead.
“That is why you should love life, live it to the fullest, while you still have it. Do whatever it is you desire, even if that desire is to rule the world. Go out with a bang, if you wish. Or just simply waste it. What you do with it is your choice.
“There are lots of things in life that seem bad, but since life happens since once, and there is only one “you”, live life while you can. No matter what happens. If you feel sad, at least you can feel sad. If you are worried, at least you can be worried. You exist. You are alive. If you love life this way, when it comes time to die, you will be happy because death is the perfect end to life. Life is only good because death ends it. So live and love life… Because you don’t even know how, when or why, but since you’re alive…
“You’re going to die.
“And there is no cure for any mortal.
“And if you are flat-out against me, you’re surely going to die. You’ll be dead. Nothing more.” Lectured the young boy rather promisingly, and his tone was indeed grave and cold as death itself.
The woman across from him could only stare at him, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.
Here he was, soon to be turning eight and was speaking of such vile and stomach-churning philosophies, let alone had been seen speaking in tongues. It was utterly amazing he could formulate thoughts as complicated as this in the first place. A child at this age would be considered intelligent and completely innocent of such acts, the latter possibly the fact of being under a different influence that was not of their own, but this one was different. Despite his glowing complexion, his beautiful shining white hair, and having the appearance of what could be described as belonging to an angel, he was not. In fact, far from it. Zatanna Zatara knew better.
His golden eyes flickered, shining as if the flames of hell seemed to have been trapped within him. His eyes betrayed his innocence, and with one look it was like he could see through your very soul, finding every flaw that was known or kept away in secret. His penetrating gaze had enough power to stab you through the heart, that is, if he really wanted to. But no, for fear seemed to be his ploy for now at the time being , like a playmate whom he was now sharing his toys with. The toy, of course, at the moment was none other than her herself.
“And if you are fortunate, there will be only a tombstone to remember you by.” He continued, his back turned to her as he stared out the window, his hands clutching the bars through the window’s glass of his bedroom. “Not that it matters, in time those engraved letters will inevitably erode away…”
It was pouring cats and dogs outside, the crackling of thunder was so booming as lightning danced fervently through the afternoon sky. The woman could not tell if it was night or day anymore, the sky was so dark around here and had been so for quite a long time, as the withered foliage had foretold. Not that you could get a living plant near him. Even her corsage had suffered he same fate for it had instantly dried up once she had entered his room, the life that was left in the rose drained completely away, the once red peddled had turned black before crumbling apart. She was just grateful it was the rose and not her.
“Once you’re dead, your corpse will decompose, your remains devoured by the maggots, buried six-foot underneath this world’s soil, placed inside a confined box. You are nothing more than worm chow, who is yet to be devoured by the crow. This process continues on until you are nothing. Not even excrement, nor compost.” He said with a tinge of zeal, his prehensile tail twitching a bit. “Though, you won’t know how you will die. And I will make sure you will be no more.” He paused for a moment as he let out a malevolent giggle. “And there won’t be anyone, not even God, who is there to save you. Not that he ever cared to begin with. In fact, he doesn’t even exist. Just look around. If he did, why does the world suffer so? Can he not hear them? Or does he selfishly decide to turn a deaf ear to it? Why is “The Great Equalizer” still renowned and feared by all who are not immortal? ...Perhaps he has a sick sense of humor and finds hilarity in people's suffering, sitting upon his golden and jewel incrusted throne as he spectates?”
He turned and looked at her, a depraved grin played upon his lips, defiling his innocence, and his eyes almost darkened to the point of seeming like coal, coal which burned inside of a furnace. “The answer is simple. There is no God, only I.” He stated as if he was suddenly stricken by an epiphany. “When you think about it, that makes me God, doesn’t it? I’m the master of fate. Soon the whole world will low and behold me and gaze upon my splendor as I spread my wings, the bringer of the end of all things. The choice is your’s if you wish to walk down a dark tunnel. Because I can eliminate you completely.”
She had sat there for what seemed like hours, watching and listening to him rant endlessly about anything that came to mind. She had been here since early this morning, along with her cousin Zachary. Of course, before upon entering the child’s domain, his mother had informed her of what had been taking place since all this had began.
And it all started when the poor kid was ambushed by the town’s older kids, hitting the child with rocks in an act of trying to stone him to death. The children did not live, of course, all them suffering terribly gruesome deaths, which caused the family all the more tribulations, starting with the fact that the people were enraged by the little demon‘s subsistence. Up until then, no one knew that the hell-spawn had even existed, being that his mother desperately tried to maintain his sheltered life, making sure he had no record of being alive whatsoever, not even the proof of him being ever born.
Or should she say, SHE? Yes, before she was born, she was, in fact, a female, but afterwards, and a bit of an unsettling thought, she was not. In fact, she had lacked a gender completely until she was the age of three. Any normal parent would have had a permanent case of the willies from that. Nevertheless, the woman wanted her child back the way he was, the “little angel” she knew him to be. Of course, only a mother could love such an vile child such as this.
That in it’s own was going to be a grueling task to achieve, in truth, it appeared utterly hopeless. Already, since the first incident, their lives have been dramatically shaken. The magician knew that the evil inside of the child had always been there, needing only the chance to rear it’s ugly head, especially in the sake of when trouble came around the corner. However, the series of events that had followed did not help the case in the least, in effect, made it all the more worse. Not only did they suffer from numerous attacks upon their lives, but all the more disturbing was the fact that even some of the servants had been driven into madness, doing themselves in, right before the child’s very eyes so that he could see. “Acts of devotion” is what the now deceased servants had called it.
Zatanna fought the urge to shake her head upon all of this, this catastrophe. At this point she was driven into a quandary. She had the choice of either trying to aid the family in this situation and hope for the best, or to just do the whole world a rather large favor and try to completely rid the child of it’s infernal existence. Anyone with the right sense would send this reincarnated evil back to which it came. However, the conjurer could not find herself to relinquish the world of it. After all, it was a child, and she found it not in her heart to do so herself or grant anyone else the privilege to do so.
“I’m not against you.” She spoke finally. “In fact, I am here to help you…” She hesitated for a moment before she spoke his name. “…Jullian.”
“That’s not my name.” He stated cheekily.
Zatanna bit her bottom lip at his reaction.
The young demon then eyed her suspiciously, raising his chin up and tilting his head a bit. He studied her and her choice of garb, which was different from her usual choice of clothing.
“Who are you?” He ordered her to answer, as if his personality had suddenly switched. In fact, he actually seemed to switch between voices as well. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Sent by this lowly town’s insignificants, the extraneous sad excuse of putrid meat sacks?” His eyes widened as he began to panic, the fear of what he imagined would come once realizing that. It was the faintest sign left that he was still a child, the very child that his mother was bent on saving. “You’re here to take me to that infernal asylum, aren’t you? Want to lock me up and throw the bloody key?” He jumped onto his bed, crawling backwards away from her. “Well, you can’t! I won’t let you!” He spat the latter venomously at her, his voice was that of many and was as powerful as the thunder itself.
Then suddenly, room grew dark, pitch-black, despite having been lit by the ceiling lights and lamps, which flickered on and off as the room also began to quake along with a mighty turbulence. The lightning flashed radically outside of the window, but not even it was enough to light up the room. The books flew from their proper places from the shelves, inexplicably flapping about like wild birds as other objects joined them in the winds of a supernatural tornado, the two of them in the eye of the storm.
The child’s eyes glowed fiercely and his body seemed to have had an illumination that was more ominous than just plain eerie. And just as things could not get all the more unsettling, the floor began to buck up and down repeatedly out of place, a daunting red glow shining underneath them through the cracks. The floor then suddenly split itself in half.
Just then, she heard it, wails emitting from the floor below. She clung onto her chair in response, raising her feet from the floor out of trepidation as ghoulish hands reached up to grasp upon anything they could manage to get their hands on. It was not like she had never seen such horrors before, no, more like she did not wish to perish this way. Not exactly on anyone’s top ten list on “how one desires to shed one’s mortal coil”.
She looked pleadingly up at the child, her heart racing so fast that her head felt like it was about to pop off from massive blood flow. “Jullian, please! Calm down! I am not here for any of that which you think I am for!” She cried out to him over the ceaseless racket, hoping to reach and reason with him. “I just want to help you! Just to talk! I mean no harm! If I was, do you honestly think your mother would have personally requested me to come? Do you think she would trust me?”
Abruptly, everything came to a halt, objects falling dead onto the floor, and the darkness was immediately lifted. Everything had went back to normal, minus the fact that the room was now in a complete mess, with papers, books, and other objects scattered from here to Montezuma. Out of nowhere, just when one would think it was all over with, anything breakable had then exploded into tiny particles, the shattered remains glisten like pixie dust.
Zatanna held her breath, looking around for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh of relief when she realized that was it. She looked back over at the child and low and beheld how he trembled, hugging his legs to him as if it were a source of comfort. Perhaps there was hope yet for the child. However, looking at his circumstance, an old and familiar quote suddenly crept into her mind…
~Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her own shape how lovely; saw and pined his loss.~
The quote seemed to fit the child perfectly. The innocence that once was Jullian’s, without a shred of doubt, was lost, mostly if not entirely. The only hope that was left for the child was if his inner evil was to be suppressed. It was for the good of the world, not just for himself.
“Are you alright in there?” She heard Zachary ask her telepathically, concern laying heavy in his voice.
“Yes, I am fine.” She, like wise, answered back. “No worries, just yet.”
“No worries?!” He exclaimed, disbelieving her. “Zat, don’t think--”
“I’ll call you when I need you!” And with having said that, she cut off their psychic link.
Zatanna brushed her hair back with her fingers before she tried her best to smile warmly at the child, hoping he would not have another episode like he just did. “So, shall we begin, Prince Reficul?” She inquired gently, treating the subject with great care. “Tell me about these…experiences you have? These powers you possess? Shall we begin there?”
Kyrie, eleison.
Christe, eleison.
Kyrie, eleison.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
pie Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem. Amen.
~*~*~*~
Christe, eleison.
Kyrie, eleison.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
pie Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem. Amen.
~*~*~*~
~The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
Modo he's called, and Mahu.~
~I called the devil, and he came, And with wonder his form did I closely scan; He is not ugly, and is not lame, But really a handsome and charming man. A man in the prime of life is the devil, Obliging, a man of the world, and civil; A diplomatist too, well skilled in debate, He talks quite glibly of church and state.~
TEN YEARS LATER
LOCATION: JUMP CITY - St. Mary's Vale of Tears Church
It was the middle of the day and yet this ruined chapel was as dark as night complete with the stars that glimmered all around as she walked down the aisle as if she owned it. Which, in fact, she did. Maybe not legally, but well whoever once had was either long dead or smart enough not to try and stake a claim. Despite the many territories of the city and the constant gang fights disputing who owned what, the fact of the matter remained. She owned them all, body and soul. This city was a world of her own creation and she gleefully spent each day watching their own corruption destroy them. It was beautiful, this work of hers, and she would have it no other way.
“I have missed you, my pet. Your screams still caress me to sleep at night, such a sweet melody.”
Twining her fingers into the metal lattice work that separated the Queen of Spades from the girl, she smiled at her, a mixture of lust and greed in her eyes as she ran briefly over the fond memories of breaking her. It was a pity that she had turned out so useless when she was done with her. A bit more restraint shown on her part and this girl that the commoners had dubbed an oracle would still make a good plaything. Still, she didn’t regret. The Queen never regretted any of her actions. It had been so much fun, after all, tearing her open time and again. Moaning softly to herself, she pressed her body against the metal as she wondered, not for the first time, if she couldn’t play with her just a little more.
Oracle did nothing to show that she even knew the Queen was there. Fingers moved mechanically as she pulled threads through the loom and weaved without seeing the pattern. It was not that she didn’t see, hear, or know. It was that she did with everything constantly. Her lips moved, the soft sound of mumbling coming from them, whole worlds contained in her speech, told to herself as stories that she had no choice but to tell. Watching her, the Queen grew annoyed with her lack of response, banging a hand against the metal, her eyes shimmered a disturbing black for a moment before she calmed herself.
“You know why I am here, pet. You know what I require of you. Come. Speak and let me see.”
Her voice was cajoling, caressing, and most were wise enough to never trust it for it never meant anything good for them in the long term. Still, it was a pity that Oracle had no choice but to answer, her fingers never left her weaving as she turned her head to look her majesty in the eye.
“She burns. She burns like the sun! Why does the darkness press so? Let the candle light the path of the stars! You must before she is consumed! Too late.. too late.. not enough. must add more red.”
Silence fell once again save for her mumbling words and the sound of the shuttlecock has it pressed the woven threads into place. Her Majesty was thoroughly disgusted, staring at her pet as she mentally went over whether what coherent information the chit did give her was worth keeping the little bitch alive and, if not, what would be the type of death to give her the most enjoyment. Something with the loom perhaps. No, she needed her for now. She’d had her minions comb this city five times over and with no luck. People were disappearing, but not like they usually did. They hadn’t left and they weren’t on the many burning piles of corpses that always filled the sky with their dense black smoke. She hadn’t cared at first, but then some potential pets she’d had her eye on left as well. The Queen didn’t like her things going away without her permission. She would find them and then she would make whoever had been taking what was hers beg for the sweet peace of death.
Suddenly a creaking sound echoed through the space of the cathedral, the light from outside spilling into the dim room that was only lit by candlelight. Numerous felines scurried away from the opening doors, rushing towards the back of the ancient structure out of fear of the one who made her way in. The doors rumbled as they closed behind her, a sound most would find haunting, sounding more like a dead man’s groan than anything else. It became dim once again, revealing the stars that blanketed the walls and ceiling, a resemblance of how heaven’s alter was supposed to be. The Minster’s interior was also embellished in gold, a work of fine craftsmanship, detail was seen everywhere, even in the tiniest piece. And all but one glass stained window had been boarded up, which happened to be the largest one, and below it sat the conduit, right behind the iron grate.
The small green lady casually walked inside, paying no heed to the cats as they hissed adversely, their backs arched, their tails twitched, and their claws ready to defend their lives. And who could blame these creatures for their animosity? After all, she was no mere lady, but a replica of the Angel of Death, and she lived up to that name greatly. She had the power to make people kill themselves if not by her own hand, using strands of her mystical black hair to slice them up or simply pulling on their life strings. All the more daunting, she was also the Queen’s Herald.
Deathwish was a demon, she had the horns and the prehensile forked tail to prove it. She also had wings, similar to a gargoyle’s, only they were covered luxuriously in black feathers, and her wingspan was at least a good nine feet. Once inside, however, she had folded them away, making them disappear all together. Her style of dress was similar to a flapper girl’s, however, though gothic in fashion, she appeared more like a magician’s assistant with that small top hat upon her head. In short, she really appeared really obscene, sporting in what looked to be highly fashionable under-roos, a hat, lacy fingerless gloves, fishnet stockings, and pair of pumps.
She strutted over to the iron grate, an evil smile across her face, making her seem all the more reptile. Usually a melancholy girl, the grin she wore derived from the fact she had fantastic news, news that only the Queen and herself could find pleasure in. Her Queen would be so pleased when she has been informed what she had found.
She glanced at the Oracle, the woman’s empty solid white eyes never lifting from her object of fascination, continuing her weaving as if it were more a important endeavor. The girl brushed her hands on the iron grate, caressing it passionately before she turned her attention towards the Queen of Spades. She then came before her and lowered herself onto her knees, bowing her head respectfully like a small child in prayer.
“Permission to speak, My Queen?” She spoke softly, her words dripping with veneration for the older woman. “I have splendid news, your Majesty.”
Once she received the okay to, she looked up at her Majesty with an impious tinkle in her eyes.
“I spied with my little eye trespassers of the righteous variety. At the Tower located on the isle in the bay.” She informed. “One I’ve seen before, pity he has betrayed you, My Queen. The others I do not know, but I have sensed them residing there within the abandoned headquarters for heroes.” She paused for a moment. “But there is more, I sense something else…something unlike the others.”
“It was someone, someone much darker, foreboding.” She conveyed in a state of awe. “An individual with enough power to punch a hole through this world and into the next, possibly through numerous dimensions.”
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