setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
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 [Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles - Page 2

[Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles

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Re: [Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles

Helios Tallon | Army of God; Chief

Posted on Wed Jul 05, 2017 7:30 pm

I did not fault her for whatever atrocities I would likely witness. I did not fault her for much, in fact. The cage in which entrapped her would serve as a pathetic barrier, one that would allow me to see every excruciating moment and vile outburst that I believed would inevitably occur. And still, there was no awkwardness in that inevitability. Even in our shared silence I found a patience I had not known I could provide. Waiting for those moments to finally dance before my eyes. Waiting to witness more pain and suffering; And it sickened me to know that for once, it would not be at my hand, that I found comfort in that cold fact, and as a result, discomfort in my own corrupt mind for seeking any form of solace while bearing witness to the decomposition of anothers' body, soul, and mind.

Perhaps the darkened corner in which I stood was a home befitting myself and my mental cruelty. My straightened posture, clasped hands, and unyielding gaze was a facade to camouflage my scrutiny. While I spoke nothing, and barely moved, save for my slowly rising and falling chest, the truth was in my stare. My own eyes betrayed me, revealing the truth that I had grown to believe did not exist. The truth that I did not just find comfort knowing her suffering was not my doing, but I found comfort in her prison. I found comfort in my ability to tower over that prison and gaze at her without pity. For the first time, I was seeing her for what she truly was, no longer possessing the ability to lie and trick myself into believing she was the vessel to an innocent human soul. She was a beast, and I had her caged, and yet... Despite knowing these cruel and haunting truths, I had denied myself in an impulse to show her mercy in the purest form. While her situation left her vulnerable, I still could not bring myself to kill her. And once again... I was torn between the priest and the hunter, unable to be both, but unwilling to be just one.

Many would have viewed my reaction to her request a cruelty far more severe than the cruelty of my passing thoughts. However, my silence and and stillness was anything but cruelty. It was a kindness, to her, and to myself. While I may not have been an expert on wolves, I was not stupid enough to position myself anywhere near the cage. Her prison held her, but it was her that would hold my life in her hands if I neared. So I stayed in my corner, in silence, showing her the slightest bit of weakness as I tore my eyes away for a moment. Unable to bear the guilt I felt for indirectly denying her, her only request.


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Re: [Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles

Lilith Alysbury | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Thu Jul 06, 2017 12:41 am

He never spoke. Not once replied to any of my questions nor gave into any demands. He kept his promise not to let me touch any of my belongings. That fact helped me stop myself from manipulating my way out of a promise of my own. It made me angry. Beyond furious. How dare a fucking human think that he could just ignore me when I asked for something. Especially when I owned it. They were mine. My fucking bracelet. My fucking necklace. I told more lies. Endless tales of how the necklace was a family heirloom trying to weave in bullshit about the bracelet and leather jacket too for good measure. The bracelet became the only thing I had left of a deceased lover who had been my everything. The jacket’s owner my current boyfriend who I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to.

The more I tried to deceive the Priest the more aware I became of something moving in my chest wound. At first, it was in subsequential. Just the pulse of a freshly made injury even though it was months old. That throb of something infected. Eventually, I could feel a distinct shift underneath the skin. Did maggots see me nothing but a corpse already? Flies laid their eggs when I hadn’t noticed and they had hatched into worms. Disgust brought bile to my throat but as I coughed up thick lashings of blood onto the floor of my prison I became more horrified in what I was doing. Trying to weasel my way out of detox by drinking the Ancient Fanger blood contained in the necklace. Seeking a way out of the pain. Leaning over a small puddle of crimson I heaved with vomit that came up my throat like syrup. Much like a cat struggling with a hairball, my back arched, fingers once again raking at the floor, spreading my blood in sweeps. What dripped from my jaws was black. It heavily splashed into the blood but didn’t dilute in the chunky liquid. Fuck it hurt. Burned all the way up from my stomach. Smelt horrible. Not caring that my hair began to dip into the foul mess in front of me I growled. A guttural pained noise that burbled with the plasma and black shit still stuck in my throat. Leaning on my elbows and forearms over my own regurgitation. “I can’t.”

The statement made me angrier. That I would say something so pitiful. Violently spitting a projectile glob of red ink I spun about on all fours. Fingerpainting more of the stonework with cerise. Snarling I prowled like an animal over to the bars again directing my fury at the only other living thing in the room. I bared my teeth that uncontrollably began to grow and sharpen as a surge of pain launched into another attack upon my body. The earnest look of a Wolf in need was gone replaced with that of one who was fucking livid at what was happening to her. That he could stand there and watch so calmly when my world was falling apart. My body becoming nothing but toxic waste on the floor of a cage. Trying to look menacing I tilted my head like an animal observing prey. Acting as if I had entirely shifted. That I could. Every spear of fire that shot through my muscles disrupted the precise predatory gait as I stalked a short distance along the edge of the bars. Never once moving my eyes from Father Tallon.

“Let me out.” I wasn’t going to bargain anymore. Not only did it appear to be pointless but it was also pathetic. “Let me out!” Howling I actually managed to stand and threw myself at the bars. Losing control of that primal side. Discarding the knowledge that the bars contained silver. I wailed as the metal touched both cheeks, burning long definitive lines into the flesh. Forcing me to crumble to the floor again. “Let me out now and I won’t eat you.” Hissing through the different volumes of pain that haunted me I locked my gaze on the Priest. “I won’t rip asunder your ribcage to lick against your beating heart.” The threats though very real sounded small from my lips. Weak like I was. “I won’t slowly suck your entrails out from your stomach nor devour chunks of your flesh as you lay there watching. I’ll spare you. If you let me out.” I grinned. That terrible smile, one that was now coated with blood and thick beads of obsidian gunk. All of that was broken, shattered when a severe cleave brought up a bucket of magma from my mouth that shot all over the bars of my pen. So potent that my eyes rolled back in my head and I collapsed onto my side unconscious.



This is an incoherant pain dream. Play creepy background noise while reading >.>




Feed Us……(Unknown Voices)
You’re poison, and I think you know that…. (Apollos Voice)
Maybe I just don't fucking care about playing fair with you....(Onyx's Voice)
No-one will accept you the way I do….(Dominions Voice)
Sometimes love isn’t kind and gentle. Sometimes it feels like teeth….(Sona’s Voice)
You want me to treat you differently? Better? You want a family? A home? But baby steps, friendships aren't a good enough start? You want to climb your way from your mothers womb straight to president then? You want to be treated like an equal, but any offers are charity? I mean fuck Luxx! What. Do. You. Want? I can't, I ca- Fu-I jus- What- How can I fucking please you? Jesus fucking Christ how does anyone fucking please you?! You are fucking impossible!...(Onyx's Voice)
You really don't have any duty to me, and I don't have any to you….(Olympia’s Voice)
Being around you is like walking on fucking eggshells. Stop being so sensitive....(Onyx's Voice)
You need to learn to fight for things that matter….(Vegas Voice)
We’re the same. We both want more power….(Orions Voice)
If one thing is fucking obvious, it's that I don't know a damn fucking thing about you, but I know enough. You don't need all two-hundred puzzle pieces to know the end result is a picture of a pile of shit...(Onyx's Voice)
Feed Us....(Unknown Voices)
We're both two fucking assholes Luxx, the only difference is your coat comes in white, and mine comes in black....(Onyx's Voice)



Day 2 Around 2am



Coming to hadn’t been a beautiful experience. It should have been because being asleep had been noisy. Couldn’t remember what the voices had said, who they had been. All accept one because I’d heard it over and over. Waking had been marked with a flurry of bird wings and the squawking of ravens. I may have skipped some of the fuckery while incapacitated but it only made way for far more terrible things. Murderous seizures replaced what had been fairly manageable convulsions in comparison. My Warlord eyes blossomed for the duration of each war. Limbs contorting like a person possessed. What muscle I had left, tendons and sinew bulging with every uncontrollable squeeze. I screamed and screamed. There was no way to hold it back any longer. Thrashing about on the floor expressing as loudly as I could how it felt to have my organs seize, struggling to find a way to keep doing their respective jobs. In between the punishments, I would lay staring listlessly at the angry red silver scar upon my hand. Running my eyes along the strokes. A sick slick creep had climbed inside of me at some point upon waking. Though I believed Father Tallon had not left the cage side a grim sense of loneliness had burrowed into my skull. Any tears weren’t now just from the pain but from a sensation, I couldn’t shake.

I was part of a pack now and that should have been a comfort. Somehow being in this basement, in the church, had cut me off from them all. That feeling I had gotten when Onyx had welcomed me into Reprisal was missing. I was alone again. Had to keep tracing the scar on my hand with my eyes to remind myself it wasn’t true. Keep telling myself that I had been a Lone for so long that I could deal with this. It should be second nature. Strangled sobs wrenched from my frame as no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find the determination I’d once had. To make myself believe that I was happier by myself. Not here. Not right now. Another horrendous mutation ripples through my body, twisting my limbs up at awkward angles. I cried through my screams. Behind my clenched eyes, I saw flicking white. The light filled my head and it calmed me for a moment before another wave of agony washed against the shore. In my mind's eye, I turned off the Alpha glow and stared at the blisteringly pale blues of the true eyes behind them. My memories distorted them replacing them over and over with the gaze of two different Pack Masters until I forced myself to dispel the Wintery glare of Dominion to linger with the Summer of Onyx.

Didn’t want to think about why he had brought me into the pack because I knew it probably wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart. We were both fucking assholes. The only difference is that my coat came in white and his in black. What was important is that he had. He had accepted me and when I thought about it, he had never outrightly excluded me in any way. He wasn’t nice about it. There weren’t kind intentions behind it but that didn’t matter. It should. It would to anyone else. To me, it was a comfort. When everything I too did was both heartless and heartfelt I found solace in the way he dealt with me. The rage that he provoked with effortless ease. “No wonder I…” Talking to myself having completely forgotten Father Tallon was there I kept staring at the pack symbol on my hand. Not thinking about any other Wolf but the one who led them. Finally noticing the Priests figure standing in the corner beyond my spade palm I lifted my eyes slowly refocusing on him. My voice was raw, strained, broken and fading but I addressed him. “Do you think it’s strange to care for someone who hates you?”

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Re: [Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles

Helios Tallon | Army of God; Chief

Posted on Mon Jul 10, 2017 8:26 pm

I did not remember much about my mother. While I had been young when she died, I did not believe our hazy past together was at all blurred by my youth. In fact, I was almost certain my memories of her had been compelled from my mind. Not an act of cruelty performed by vampire, but an act of kindness performed by my own conscience. I did not allow myself to forget people, not their faces, not their names, not their souls... But there was one exception to that rule... The memory of her caused me pain at such a grand scale, to remember would leave me broken. It was not her death that even pained me so, but rather the lifetime of horrors her death inspired. The pain of loss always faded with time, but guilt was a bigger burden, one that could not so easily be discarded. And if my mothers passing represented anything, it was a soul gnawing guilt. I suppose even I had limits to what I would allow myself to endure and be punished for.

When I did think of her, I only thought of one question that was more mysterious and elusive than my own redemption. Did she still care for me? There were hundreds of answers to that question, and also none at all. My fellow hunters would happily deny the existence of a conscience within the vampire species. But if they did not possess a conscience, then why did they punish so mercilessly? Just like there could be no God without Satan, there could be no cruelty without compassion. Even the evil had things or people they cared for, even if those things or people were wicked in nature. And perhaps it was wishful thinking to believe that somewhere inside of my mothers vampire body was a human soul. While I had mourned her death, I was still human myself, and wanting to believe my pain was somehow misguided, wanting to believe she still cared for her son was undoubtedly my way of relieving the pressure that soul gnawing guilt provided.

But that lead me to here and now, feeling curiously bonded to the wolf girl and her convulsions. I had no doubt in my mind that her pain was tremendous, and maybe that was why I felt so strongly that we were kindred. Because the truth was, her pain did not end here. It extended far beyond the bars in which confined her, and I believed she would carry it with her just as I carried my own, even into the afterlife. I do not... Because if it were, not only would I be broken and my grief misguided... But the justice I sought would be nothing more than a cruel vendetta.

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Re: [Private] The Long Shadows of Rotten Miracles

Lilith Alysbury | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Tue Jul 11, 2017 3:00 pm

His answer to the question didn’t really matter. The question itself didn’t even matter. I was just trying to make conversation. Attempting to make an external connection to somehow stop my slide into a vortex of memories. I’d had to to get through the fear of being imprisoned. I’d had to redirect myself away from the abysmal loneliness that threatened to swallow me. Now that I had thought about things from my past. People in my present that had links to others I felt like I’d begun a descent down Alice’s rabbit hole. “Me either.” I tried to smile. I doubted I could really make any expression aside from a grimace but I put in the effort anyway. My eyes blurred, lost their focus, the eyelids drifting half shut. Everything was such an effort now. Even breathing was a task I could compare to the heartiest of training sessions with Dominion. If I could I would have asked him why he didn’t think it was strange. How a human and a Priest could think that way. I didn’t imagine many would take the abuse I did from Onyx’s barbed tongue and be able to reflect anything else but the same right back at him. With the very same intentions as it was given. Vincent was kind of lucky really. I’d told him I enjoyed his company. That I liked him. Now those would not be things I could ever say again. I would have to tell him I hated him too. Act like I did. Even though that went against my prophecy. I’d changed the battlefield with joining Reprisal. I didn’t need to follow the Ancestors wishes of being kind anymore. Not to save my soul. I couldn’t. Doing so would mean that Onyx would die which would likewise stamp a failure on the whole deal anyway. They had repeated the same line over and over at the cliffs during my visit with the Alpha. Protect the Pack Master. It had to be the most important part. I wasn’t declaring I wouldn’t do their bidding if I had the chance to. Just that if I had to it would be in my own way. My death would protect him more than being by his side ever would have.

I rolled over to stare at the ceiling of my cage. Brow furrowing as best it could. Why was it that I thought I had to be miserable to Vincent in order to hide the fact I cared for him anyway? That had been the way I had built walls between myself and all Wolves. Protecting them by teaching them that Lone Wolves were shitty. The Ancestors had spoken through Onyx to tell me that it was wrong and yet I still felt like that was the only way to save him from the death sentence that was my love. Him hating me didn’t change a thing. Telling myself that I hated him. Going through the motions of that being true. Was the only way. Blood rose in the back of my throat. I choked on it. Inhaling a little when I sucked in a breath that marked the recollection of recent events. All the things Apollo had said to me the last time I’d seen him. How I’d desperately tried to find rage in order to respond not out of a feeling of disgust towards him but because I felt like I needed it for some reason. The sanctity of the scrying bowl had made that difficult. So had the things he had been saying. Spluttering a spray of fine red droplets up across my already beaten face, I turned my head to let some of the liquid drain from the corner of my lips. I could turn others hate into love. I used my own hate to block out love.

Fuck.

Scrambling with a new found energy I rapidly looked about my confinements for a way to knock myself out. I needed to be unconscious. Not for the next rally of pain, I knew was coming but because the more I stayed alert, the more I thought. “Damn this place for making me think.” Growling to myself, clawing at the foul floor around me, my eyes locked on the silver bars. Continuing to allow myself to dwell on others, how pieces fit together, endangered them. This was the only way I could protect anyone now. By wiping my mind clean. Forget them. Forget everything. I was so good at doing that. I’d forgotten Apollo. I could do it again. Forget. Forget. Forget. Squeezing my eyes shut I pressed my forehead against a bar. A hiss rose from the contact. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose. My body trembled with the agony. So used to physical pain I only experienced the intricate dance of lights in the backside of my eyelids before flight instincts kicked in and my torso jerked my upper body away from the bars. A fair portion of my skin stays stuck to the metal. Another ocean of blood rose In my gullet and I choked once more slumping to the ground completely.

Far too close to the outskirts of my prison when my internal organs began to seize my arm flailed out against the silver. The forearm and back of my hand crushed against the rows. Each quake pulling my flesh back from the metal, only to be slammed back up against it. Ruining the skin completely. Searing not just the surface but layers of tissue underneath. My screaming reached new levels. All I could smell was blood and cooked meat. The agonized howls from my lips were often obscured with the thick rumble of blood that continued to rise in my throat. Every sound filtered through as I drowned in it. Finding the strength each time to cough, spit, launch the shit out of the way so I could breathe. Was this how the others had died? All the Wolves that had experienced this before me? Fighting against this all was doing them a disservice. I imagined them looking down at me and willing me to give up. To not shift that blood out of my throat and just let it smother me. So they no longer had to watch. To remember. My body and my mind couldn’t take it anymore and once again I blacked out.

Day 2 1pm give or take




My eyes had become so blind I had tunnel vision. They had been fucked, to begin with but now I didn’t know if it was the vessels connected to the orbs that were failing or the fact I had intentionally burned a line of silver between them, but I could barely see. Occasionally in the perimeter of my sight, I would catch movement. When I slid my head painfully towards any shift in shadow I would not find the source. Sometimes it was rapid, jerking motions. Fluid and feather light like a bird snatching flesh from a corpse to flutter away with its prize. Others it was a sickening slither. A seething parasitic ripple. Both terrified me. The convulsions, for the most part, had stopped. Or maybe it was just because I could no longer feel my lower body. Dead slabs of meat hanging from the bottom of my torso. I laid on my back only tilting my head to try to see what was lurking in the dark corners of the room and to try and drain the blood that continuously filled my mouth. I was so fucking thirsty. Starving. All desire to fight, any strength I’d had completely gone as if it had slowly but surely leaked out of me onto the floor. I needed to die. Not just to save myself from the pain. Which was excruciating. Worse than anything I had ever experienced. While I did want it to stop I needed to die so that I could stop my mind from wandering. “Kill me.” With a voice that was barely a whisper, I called out to the Priest. “Kill me.” I tried to project the demand. Hoarse and distorted I didn’t know if he could understand me. If he was listening. “Kill me!” Managing to shout painfully when I opened my cracked lips to say it again nothing came out. Just lip syncing the two words soundlessly. I had lost my voice entirely.

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