Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Jul 10, 2008 2:58:41 GMT 8
Ninette: The petite form slithers into the greyness of light from the blackness of shadows from whence all evil spawned from. Twin orbs glistened within their sockets as a sliver of light dares to cross her path. Gone was the languid gait of which was known to be hers, instead an unnatural speed would be lent to the mortal form she occupies. Upon passing a moss riddled window, she would stop, neck twisting to view her pale features. A slender finger rose to touch the invisible scars left by her last victim, her new harlette now. A tight smile would then touch her painted lips as chin would nod in approval at the flawless porcelain-like face now fully recovered, thanks to the powerful dark auras of the Abyss.
But too soon the smile was gone as she left the mirror like panes, making her way along the cold corridor of the abandoned cathedral; the main chamber her destination. “Diabolique..” Came a disembodied voice from somewhere within the darkened walkway. “I need to speak to you”. The twin obsidian mirror grew into large pools on her lovely face as palms rose before the huge doors, though naught was needed as with a great creak they started to part. Passing through the still opening portal nonchalantly, once again the voice would echo. “Diabolique..” And in the middle of the cold chamber, with benches strewn and debris littering the once beautiful marble floor, she stood; ample breasts rising and falling as she awaits his appearance.
Diabolique: There was no sound; no answer. Just the hallowed breeze of the world whispering through the eaves of the dilapidated building that had once been a cathedral. Several moments would ascend in absolute silence, before the Darkness seemed to become a bit more thickening. As silent creeping tendrils traced paths along through their diluted relatives of the shadows; where snickering and scraping claws and the random appearnce of small fleeting forms, hunched over and skulking beneath the pews; with eyes blinking in and out of existence. And then a voice, soft but holding enough air of presence, calling out..." And why do you summon me?" It echoed about the high steepled and vaulted ceilings, reaching up and from the Darkness, his staple, a sign that he was closer than it might appear.
Ninette: She heaves a quiet breath as she felt the air swell with unholy presence. And then the climatic pulse, signaling the arrival of a devil’s advocate. A light shiver ran along her spine, tickling her undead senses. It never failed to excite her. The knowledge of his presence. She turns around slowly, eyes gliding up and down; searching around in the shadows and beyond for his mortal form. “I have a favor to ask, my brother” She would whisper though her lips remained pressed against one another. “Will you not show me yourself?” Her voice was a gentle caress.
Diabolique: There was a slight and sneering scoff from somewhere within the gathering Darkness, and from its still-born center, an opening, the spiraling descent of a web-like pattern that would help to elevate from the mass of blackness, the twisted edifice that was called a throne. Black and tarnished meta; with curling spikes and razor-likes appendages shaped like thorns. Onyx skulls frozen in screaming facades of death and upon dark satin of blue and purple, the Black Devil himself sat, lounging. His dark-related entourage of minions scattered from around the base as it fell into place. " A favor you say?" his voice was nonetheless pleasant as ever. His eyes were closed and long dark hair framed his pale visage. A well manicured nail tapped against the armrest and waited her response.
But too soon the smile was gone as she left the mirror like panes, making her way along the cold corridor of the abandoned cathedral; the main chamber her destination. “Diabolique..” Came a disembodied voice from somewhere within the darkened walkway. “I need to speak to you”. The twin obsidian mirror grew into large pools on her lovely face as palms rose before the huge doors, though naught was needed as with a great creak they started to part. Passing through the still opening portal nonchalantly, once again the voice would echo. “Diabolique..” And in the middle of the cold chamber, with benches strewn and debris littering the once beautiful marble floor, she stood; ample breasts rising and falling as she awaits his appearance.
Diabolique: There was no sound; no answer. Just the hallowed breeze of the world whispering through the eaves of the dilapidated building that had once been a cathedral. Several moments would ascend in absolute silence, before the Darkness seemed to become a bit more thickening. As silent creeping tendrils traced paths along through their diluted relatives of the shadows; where snickering and scraping claws and the random appearnce of small fleeting forms, hunched over and skulking beneath the pews; with eyes blinking in and out of existence. And then a voice, soft but holding enough air of presence, calling out..." And why do you summon me?" It echoed about the high steepled and vaulted ceilings, reaching up and from the Darkness, his staple, a sign that he was closer than it might appear.
Ninette: She heaves a quiet breath as she felt the air swell with unholy presence. And then the climatic pulse, signaling the arrival of a devil’s advocate. A light shiver ran along her spine, tickling her undead senses. It never failed to excite her. The knowledge of his presence. She turns around slowly, eyes gliding up and down; searching around in the shadows and beyond for his mortal form. “I have a favor to ask, my brother” She would whisper though her lips remained pressed against one another. “Will you not show me yourself?” Her voice was a gentle caress.
Diabolique: There was a slight and sneering scoff from somewhere within the gathering Darkness, and from its still-born center, an opening, the spiraling descent of a web-like pattern that would help to elevate from the mass of blackness, the twisted edifice that was called a throne. Black and tarnished meta; with curling spikes and razor-likes appendages shaped like thorns. Onyx skulls frozen in screaming facades of death and upon dark satin of blue and purple, the Black Devil himself sat, lounging. His dark-related entourage of minions scattered from around the base as it fell into place. " A favor you say?" his voice was nonetheless pleasant as ever. His eyes were closed and long dark hair framed his pale visage. A well manicured nail tapped against the armrest and waited her response.