Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
Genevieve's mouth fell open. "You can't be serious! Am I supposed to help fight the darkest evil in history in my corset and bloomers?"
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Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.
- Thread starter Arkadious
- Start date
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
"It's my ink, and if we don't burn it, it will spread onto her and just grow in and on and through until she's not even a person anymore. Just a hungry shadow."
Well, that was a bit more than what she wanted to say, but that bird... ah well. She wiggled the feather again. "We can Draw or Write or find you something else, but I really must insist."
Well, that was a bit more than what she wanted to say, but that bird... ah well. She wiggled the feather again. "We can Draw or Write or find you something else, but I really must insist."
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
In spite of, or perhaps because of, the dire nature of everything that had transpired, Lisbeth couldn't quite hold in a giggle, and once it had broken through it tumbled out of her in rolling waves. There was something about the whole tableau, the look of scandalized consternation on Genevieve's face, Blott determinedly wiggling one of the crow's feathers at her, Fitzgerald trying, and failing, to hide an amused grin, and Alaster... well, she wasn't entirely certain what he was thinking, but she imagined he was rather unimpressed with their shenanigans and probably just wanted a nice scotch.
"I'm s-sorry," she said, trying to calm down, "I know I sh-shouldn't laugh- *snerk*"
Then she was giggling all over again, and damn did it feel good.
"I'm s-sorry," she said, trying to calm down, "I know I sh-shouldn't laugh- *snerk*"
Then she was giggling all over again, and damn did it feel good.
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
Genevieve stamped her foot and a little cloud of dust poofed into the air. "Lisbeth, this is not fu...funny..." But it was. It was completely ridiculous. She succumbed to the giggles, then threw her head back in a full-fledged, side-clutching laugh.
Biting her lip to try and hold in the laughter, she turned to face the wall and pulled her hair over one shoulder. "Fine, fine. Someone unhook me, please?"
Biting her lip to try and hold in the laughter, she turned to face the wall and pulled her hair over one shoulder. "Fine, fine. Someone unhook me, please?"
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
"You dare mock the all-powerful feather?" the crows voice was stern, but Blott's shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed giggles as she shifted and waggled the offending quill at Lisbeth.
The crow glowered at them all, clearly put-out, and nipped at Blotts leg irritably.
The crow glowered at them all, clearly put-out, and nipped at Blotts leg irritably.
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
Genevieve looked over her shoulder at Fitzgerald, making eye contact with him for the first time since they'd arrived. One last giggle bubbled up inside her then faded into a sigh. A chill shot down her spine.
She scooped up her bodice and skirts and tossed them to Blott. Her cheeks were flushed pink.
"Here, burn them. And will someone find me something to wear?"
She scooped up her bodice and skirts and tossed them to Blott. Her cheeks were flushed pink.
"Here, burn them. And will someone find me something to wear?"
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ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Blott took aim at the crumpled clothes on the floor. They were already half-covered by the ink as it leeched slowly across the fabric. How did she let any loose? She inwardly cursed herself for being so inattentive, and shot the feather, like a dart, into the biggest stain. At first contact, the point of the quill let out a sharp cracking sound, like a breaking pencil, and orange flames erupted in a wave from the feather, covering the garments in a harsh heat. As the ink burned, a tinny, shrill wail filled the air, sounding very far away, but filling the room with a wave of unease.
The fire died as soon as it started, even the embers snuffing out as the fabric crumbled to ash. Blott poked at the remains with her boot. "It's done."
The fire died as soon as it started, even the embers snuffing out as the fabric crumbled to ash. Blott poked at the remains with her boot. "It's done."
Fitzgerald felt completely out of sorts and managed to make a lop sided smile. The same one he made when he met her near the fireplace. He felt just as warm too. He was ensanred for a moment in her gaze and in that sigh. He would happily have lived for ages and could have. He caught himself wondering why he couldn't have jumped into moments like this more. He noticed her neck and shoulders and saw a small shiver erupt on her. Fitzgerald became serious all of a sudden opening one of the large crates near him digging through on a mission, at times almost falling into the large crate. When he came up he pulled up two leather bags that seemed to have bits of clothing shoved in them.He fumbled for a moment and then said "Try something in one of these" "It may not be the best of fashion but what could possibly look bad on you?!" Then he pulled himself back in the room of on lookers and immediately excused himself and disappeared for a moment.
Arkadious
The Pale Stranger
-A slow clapping is hear coming from the back of the room, from the doorway leading to the spiral staircase. The clapping gets louder as the source gets closer, climbing up from the dark shadows of the staircase. A shadowy figure soon emerges from the doorway, still clapping slowly.
"Bravo, I must say, Bra-vooo".
-A sharply dressed figure, dressed in a fashion that is hauntingly familiar yet strangely different, dark trousers with an excess of belts and buckles hanging from it, a dark asymmetrical vest paired with a black hooded three-quarter length riding jacket. His face is obscured in shadow from the hood but withing are two glowing embers. He comes to a stop midway across the room and looks at the charred remains of clothing the casts a glance towards Bolt and Lisbeth.
"Bravo, I must say, Bra-vooo".
-A sharply dressed figure, dressed in a fashion that is hauntingly familiar yet strangely different, dark trousers with an excess of belts and buckles hanging from it, a dark asymmetrical vest paired with a black hooded three-quarter length riding jacket. His face is obscured in shadow from the hood but withing are two glowing embers. He comes to a stop midway across the room and looks at the charred remains of clothing the casts a glance towards Bolt and Lisbeth.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
In a moment Lisbeth was on her feet, placing herself between Genevieve and the shadowy figure. She quickly stowed the pocket watch in a pouch on her belt, then, in one smooth motion, she drew both short swords from their sheaths. Her brows knit and she hesitated as the familiarity of the figure struck home.
"... Arkadious? Is that you?"
"... Arkadious? Is that you?"
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Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
The scream escaped her lips before she could stop it. Genevieve wasn't accustomed to screaming. She weaned herself of the habit quickly when the jumps began, finding it drew unwanted attention in moments she most needed to go undetected. But now she was so exposed and vulnerable, clutching the leather satchel to her chest behind Lisbeth. She fumbled for the dagger usually stashed in her garter and found it missing.
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Arkadious
The Pale Stranger
"Be careful with those swords. I'd hate for you to hurt yourself."
-The shadowy figure takes a step forward then slowly begins circling around Lisbeth, glowing embers trained on her.
"Trust no one, Writer, least of all the Jumper. Be wary of the Reaper. And be careful of that watch...
-The figure stops and stares at Lisbeth for a long moment before reaching in his jacket and removing a small polished stone and tossing it to her. She hears a voice in her head whisper: Keep this close. It's a Blood Stone for containing and/or trapping souls...
With a turn and a sudden loud CRACK, the shadow figure vanishes in a poof of smoke, a
peel of cackling left in his wake.
-The shadowy figure takes a step forward then slowly begins circling around Lisbeth, glowing embers trained on her.
"Trust no one, Writer, least of all the Jumper. Be wary of the Reaper. And be careful of that watch...
-The figure stops and stares at Lisbeth for a long moment before reaching in his jacket and removing a small polished stone and tossing it to her. She hears a voice in her head whisper: Keep this close. It's a Blood Stone for containing and/or trapping souls...
With a turn and a sudden loud CRACK, the shadow figure vanishes in a poof of smoke, a
peel of cackling left in his wake.
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Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Lisbeth sheathed one sword and picked up the blood red stone, keeping the other sword out and remaining alert as the room began to shake. She stowed the stone in her pouch before drawing her other sword again.
"Best get dressed quickly, dear," she told Genevieve, "It seems Fitzgerald was right: we may need to get moving quickly."
"Best get dressed quickly, dear," she told Genevieve, "It seems Fitzgerald was right: we may need to get moving quickly."
Arkadious
The Pale Stranger
-The air splits with an ungodly sound, like metal being torn apart by impossibly strong hands, coupled with the screams of a thousand dying souls. The very foundations of the warehouse trembling from the terrible power. Fitz bursts thru the doorway, panicked look in his eye as he fumbles with an over-burdened sack of food and his weapon. The fabric of space/time rips behind Lisbeth and from within the angry festering wound everyone hears: "I FOUND YOU, MOTHER!!!! YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE FROM ME?!?!? YOU THOUGHT THAT MEDDLER COULD SAVE YOU?! NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU, YOU ARE ALL MINE!!! THE KNIGHTS ARE COMING AND THEY WILL HAVE YOUR HEARTS!!!!!"
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Blott wasn't much for combat, but if they needed to run again, she decided to get ready this time. She eyed the weapons on the floor, but pulled out her fountain pen instead, her crow calling out a warning as she jumped over the pile and grabbed Lisbeth's wrist, seeking to make some distance between her and the oncoming storm.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Lisbeth consented to be dragged away from the widening rent in time and space as Blott led her from the shuddering room.
"EVERYONE GET OUT!" she bellowed, fear clutching her heart, "GET OUT NOW!"
"EVERYONE GET OUT!" she bellowed, fear clutching her heart, "GET OUT NOW!"
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
She ran after Blott, her mind racing. What could she do? What had Arkadious, if it really had been him, been trying to tell her? What was the blood red stone, and could it really do what he had claimed? If it could trap souls, then could she use it against Thanatos? Did Thanatos even have soul to trap? Her mind reeled with questions, but no answers presented themselves. This was her monster, her Creation, so surely she was the key to stopping it... wasn't she?
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"It's like that huh?" Altmonte gestures to Geneieve to stay close as she continues to dress. He leans hard on one of the red crates near him and an implosion that shakes his equilibrium so much he falls over occurs closing the rift in on itself. As soon as it does The entire room grows still again and Fitz immediately says " We need to move....Now! My guess is that won't hold him long. He found us. I'm not sure how but he did! Grab supplies regroup and let's get the hell out of here!!"
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