To The Depths of Hell {Moxie X RaraHaruko}

[moxie]

~~~

"One wrong move, and they'll get you."

~~~
​

 

[moxie]

Light-hearted banter could be heard within the vast collection of oaks and birches, an ample amount of people accompanying a figure of the highest authority. Over a dozen soldiers circled the blue-blooded woman, her personal knights staying directly by her side. Her porcelain features were illuminated by the rays of sunlight that filtered through the branches, casting an angelic aura over her. Dazzling violet hues cast over the seemingly peaceful forest surrounding her, soft lips curving upwards to form a gentle smile at the robins preforming their exquisite songs. "Your Majesty, isn't it a glorious morning for a stroll?" A gentle voice questioned, her eyes trained onto the pearly haired lady she was addressing. "It really is, Althea. Even the robins are in high spirits." Cecilia noted, clasping her pristine gloved hands over her front. A joyous laugh exited the knight's mouth, her hand continuing to grasp the handle of her blade as a precaution. "Ma'am, I'm positive that any living being would be jubilant to be in your presence." She announced, relishing the sincere giggle that emitted from the Queen.


Unknown to the merry group, pitch black eyes watched from afar, attention solely focused on the regal form in centre of the formation. A gem crafted from the soul of a flawless monarch...


BOOM!


An unforeseen cloud of black gas exploded out of thin air, alarming all of the Queen's people. "An ambush! Protect Her Majesty at all costs!" Althea commanded, her voice breaking countless times as she spoke, due to the lack of fresh oxygen. The next inhale of air she took, an unnatural scent entered her lungs. Poison...This gas is poison! She stumbled backward, squinting her aqua eyes in an attempt to seek out the one she was ordered to protect. The cherry haired female unsheathed her blade, her exposed organs of sight beginning to water as the deadly gas came into contact. "Your Majesty!" The knight cried out, sprinting around the premises of the dark mist with a hand over her nose and mouth. She soon bumped into a fellow protector but didn't bother to apologise, as a masculine yelp caught her attention. The pained noise was followed with a bloodthirsty roar, a sound that caused Althea to freeze in shock. Not even seconds later, a heavy body of pure muscle threw itself onto her, knocking her over.


A low grunt was forced from her throat, as the pain of hitting the grass was intensified by the extra amount of weight upon her. Without taking the time examine the creature above her, Althea thrust her blade upwards, puncturing the thick skin of the monster numerable times, shutting her eyes briefly as inky blood poured from the wounds. An inhumane howl sounded from the four-legged being above, it's jaws suddenly shifting close to her face. At such a close distance, the female could clearly see rows of sharp teeth stained to the bases with scarlet. Her eyes widened at the realisation that many of the people that she worked with, may have already been slaughtered. Yet, Althea didn't have much time to dawn on that fact, as a pair of jaws abruptly snapped down on her right bicep, the pointed teeth digging into her soft flesh. The points tore through layers of muscle, provoking a scream from her burning throat. It was that moment where Althea realised that the hound upon her had more than a single head.


Before the creature had the chance to further damage her arms or possibly rip one off, it leapt off of her. The world in her eyes had begun to spin, one of her hands gripping onto a section of the grass to stabilize herself as she slowly sat up. The poisonous gas had begun to take it's toll, nausea rising in her stomach as she panted. Her line of sight gradually weakening and blurring the seconds ticked by. The force of gravity suddenly enhanced, roughly pushing her body back down to the ground. The unpredicted strength of the movement churned the insides of her stomach, compelling her head to turn to the side. A dull yellow liquid gushed out from between her lips, some of the fluid staying in her mouth due to the angle of her body. As the weakened female choked on her own bile, a cloaked figure made his way over to her, his array of hell-hounds trailing behind. Slung over his shoulder was an unconscious woman, her gloved arms hanging down with little signs of life.


"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic." A gruff voice spoke up a couple metres away from Althea, her eyes struggling to remain open. "I expected much more of a challenge from you humans. But you're all as weak as the tales imply." The male continued, stopping at the side of the vivid haired knight and pressed a boot down on her chest. Althea gasped heavily, unintelligible words exiting her mouth at the other's action. "If any of the feeble beings in this pitiful world have the courage to attempt to rescue their beloved Queen, send them through the Gate. I can guarantee that they, if there is any, will not succeed in their task but it'll be entertaining on my behalf." He added, grinding the sole of his shoe into Althea's skin, further damaging her body. "Be sure to tell everyone that, hm? Be a good little guard-dog, will you?" The mysterious figure instructed, letting out a derisive chuckle at the deranged state of the female beneath. He removed his boot from Althea, turning in a different direction and sauntering off, the ends of his cloak billowing in the breeze.


The vile scent of death lingered in the air, making the simply task at hand even more difficult. Althea was currently searching through her pockets, looking for an essential item for the situation. Her chest heaved with shaky breathes, fingers trembling as they grasped onto a cylindrical barrel. She grabbed onto the object hastily, using all the strength she could muster to lift it into the air. The knight struggled to point it into the correct direction, but when she finally achieved the needed angle, her arm had began to ache. Althea's index finger pressed down on the trigger, shooting a ruby shaded flare into the sky. She prayed to the gods that a watchman from the palace would spot the signal of distress, as the woman was in no condition to run nor travel anywhere. Her eyes slid shut with exhaustion, the pain of her form and the intoxication of the air luring her into an uncomfortable state of sleep.


Your Majesty...

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​

Legs dangling down from the side of the armchair, his back pressed casually against the leather armrest. Rose hues carefully processed the complicated sentences written upon the pages of the unbelievably thick book in his hands. The male had been attempting to grasp the concept of combining different herbs for healing purposes, for the last couple of hours. However, all this reading failed to improve his knowledge and understanding of the subject, as it only puzzled the spirit's mind further. How does Master know all of this?! Coltrane pondered, irritation rising in his chest, that was more directed at himself than the superior male. An irked sigh caused his chest to puff out ever so slightly, hands lowering the hardback to a nearby table. He considered the option of actually asking Master for help, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it appeared.


A knock on the front door captured the familiar's attention, eyebrow raising in question to who would decide to come to this residence whilst the heavy rain-storm. Shifting his entire body around, Coltrane rose to his feet and ambled over to the wooden entrance. With little hesitation, the male swung open the door, a gust of wind hitting his unnaturally pale face.


Out in the pouring weather, stood a man clothed in full armour, with an amber shaded steed by his side. What struck out the most to Coltrane, was the male's white cloak, as well as the silver lining of the hood that kept his head dry. "Am I correct in saying that this is the home of the Master Swordsman; Wren Redwood?" He questioned, after a couple of moments of taking in the spirit's appearance. "Yes, it is." The chalky haired individual answered, keeping a grip on the handle of the door as he spoke. "By the order of His Royal Majesty, Prince Rylan, Sir Redwood and his Familiar are obliged to travel to Brooke Palace for an emergency meeting." The knight spoke, a solemn tone replacing the initial polite voice he had used. "What's the meeting for and when is it?" Coltrane asked, his strikingly bright eyes glowing slightly in the darkness of the room. "The meeting was arranged to discuss the devastating matter of Her Majesty's kidnapping. It will take place precisely an hour from now. I advise that you set out for the Palace soon." He responded, turning towards his impatient steed, who had begun to paw at the dirt. Coltrane blinked as he repeated the information that had just been relayed onto him. "The Queen has been kidnapped?" The man mumbled softly, shutting the door with his foot shortly after he spun around.


"Master! Master!" The very same phrase exited Coltrane's mouth multiple times, varying in different volumes as he ran throughout the building. For the life of him, he just could not pinpoint the location of the other male in the reasonably large house. The male could feel his Master's soul residing nearby but for the last five minutes, he could not find him anywhere. "Master..." Coltrane whined, closing his eyes in order to solely focus on the energy of the other's life-source.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Sweat trickled down lightly tanned skin. Piercing green eyes stared intently into the bright collage of oddly shaped plantlife. He'd been working on his precious garden, tucked away in selected part of the horned man's cottage. The estate was on the outskirts of the kingdom, hidden beneath a large veil of trees. Wren Redwood was fond of never being seen, the thick horns poking out from firey-red hair scarring him with a need for solitude, and silence. He was always working, preparing experimental elixirs. Since before he could remember, and that wasn't very far back, he'd adorned the sign of the devil for everyone to see, his odd appearance often causing uproars of anger and frustration. Whenever a child would go missing, they'd blame him. When a heard of sheep would be slaughtered, skinbags left to dry without insides for company, they had kicked down his doors. Soon he'd grown tired of the humiliation and increasingly aggravating accusations, he set out to prove to them he was nothing to be afraid of. He extended his knowledge beyond the capacity of any human in the known region, his rooms filled to the brim with titles short and long. He'd hunted down these darkened souls; often bone and blood witches, boggarts, restless spirits, banshees, and on very few occasions the undead. After diminishing the County's threats to such low rates he was widely appreciated and respected as a fellow citizen. But the fear he struck in them had never faded.


Wren gently held a rather clean thin silver knife up to a budding blood-red flower, the heat from the hot coals that burned in the hearth mixed with the water he was adding ever so sparingly to the dampened flames caused perspiration to glisten on his bare skin. The sun was hidden behind thick sagging dark clouds, making the room dim, the skylight feeling the wrath of the storm brewing above his head. Most people would have given up as the day had drawn on causing it to grow darker inside the snug room. However he was no ordinary person, and his so-very-lucky ability to see with little light made his life smooth.


The man grasped the delicate flower above a thin glass container, a dark purple liquid bubbling softly above a heavily modified gas lantern. His concentration deepened, brow furrowing as he tapped the side of the thin petals making one fall into the sour-smelling concoction. He flinched, but nothing happened.


"Master!!"


The sudden shout caused him to lose grip on the plant, sending the whole blood-lily to splash into the elixir. Without enough time to cover his face, a vast billow of black powdery smoke flew into his face. He breathed in the bitter air, the soot coating his throat causing him to cough and gag. Wren stumbled over to the farthest bookshelf from the ever-growing plants and fumbled for a thick leather-bound book. Top shelf, three books form the left. As soon as he grasped the text and pulled it down hard, the bookshelf slid open. He fell to the ground just outside of the room, the trail of black following him and spilling across the ceiling. He kicked the bookcase furiously, slamming it shut and essentially cutting off the foul smell. His coughing hadn't seized, his knees planted on the cold stone floor, one hand held tightly against his chest as he coughed up a dark-purple sludge. He glanced sideways at his Familiar, eyes red and watering. "What?!" he growled.

 

[moxie]

Where on earth could he be...? Raising his hands to the upper half of his body, the male clasped them together before pressing them against his chest. He kept his breathe steady, his mind wholly concentrating on the subtle pull of his Master's psyche energy. Coltrane didn't understand. The spirit's senses indicated that the man he was looking for was only several metres away, but there was no door nor room in that direction, only a wooden bookshelf stocked with paperbacks and hardbacks. What if...


Jumping out of his skin and emitting a embarrassingly loud yelp at the sudden loud noise, Coltrane's eyes re-opened in a heartbeat to discover what had caused the sound. What the spirit saw was not what he had been expecting at first, although it did also bemuse him.


"Master!" Coltrane exclaimed, worry framing his features as he observed the ruby haired male's coughing fit. Eyes shot over to the wandering trail of dark gas oozing from the gap in the wall, which firmly shut as the bookcase slid back swiftly. His elongated ears effortlessly picked up on the other's voice, even wincing at the volume of the demand. The male quickly rushed over to the superior of the two, the soles of his boots making a noticeable sound as he ran. "The Queen's been kidnapped, Master! We have to go to the palace for this meeting about it." Coltrane responded, his voice taking on a noticeably softer tone than his previous statements. He dropped to his knees by the side of his Master, brushing aside his distressed thoughts in order to concentrate enough to preform simple magic.


Raising a hand and clicking his fingers once, a puff of scarlet smoke suddenly formed within Coltrane's hand. When the mist cleared away, which only took a couple of seconds, the man's gloved fingers were curled around a glass of water, that he had been drinking in the living room. Though, he doubted that his Master would be bothered by such a petty detail. "Do you need any water, Master? Or a tissue?" He questioned, summoning a small box of the latter in his other hand.


If it had been anyone else coughing and choking, Coltrane knew that he would simply stand at by their side and allow bouts of laughter to shake his form. However, this was Wren, his beloved Master. The spirit adored this man too much to simply allow him to fall ill or suffer large amounts of physical pain.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Coughs spilled from his mouth as he sat back on his legs, his fist in front of his mouth as he tried to gain his composure. He didn't speak as he grasped the glass of water from his Familiar's hand, taking in the rest of the water with two big gulps. The cool drink splashed down his throat momentarily easing the tough burn. He pulled himself up to a standing position, his bare chest covered in a thick layer of black soot. His cheeks resembled the same color, a black dust falling from his face as he spoke. "I understand the urgency of the matters." Another cough escaped his throat, his fist remaining in the same spot. He grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket, ignoring the tissue given by Coltrane. He was silent for a long moment, the cloth scraping over his face, slightly cleaning off the grime, but leaving a grey stain to his flesh. "But...what have I told you about shouting?" his voice was stern, the handkerchief now working along his dirt covered hands. He lifted his hand to his head, fingers brushing against the soft onyx horns that poked our form under soft red hair. He stared into dark eyes, a form of disappointment in his own forest hues. The other knew he was working, and that 'absolute silence' had been one of the first rules he'd explained, and one he'd often had to repeat. The other being the back garden was off limits. He'd never answered any questions about 'why', and made very it clear that his word was his word and that was the end of the conversations.


"Come, our Majesty can't be kept waiting." He said, turning on his heal and letting his boots fall heavily along the stone floor. He turned a sharp left, coming to a corridor that lead into the back of the house and up to his chambers. Wren's room was in the attic, with one small window over looking the entire garden. This room, unlike most of the rooms in the house, was available for the curiosity of the Familiar. Wren never kept anything in his quarters that he might not want to be found, he was a very secretive man. He left his door wide open, changing his work trousers for a thick pair of leggings, he placed a soft black hemp shirt over his head. His belt was fashioned with many different colored pouches and pockets, all filled to the brim with dried odd-smelling herbs and plantlife. He grabbed his blade hanging above his wide-set bed, the mattress creaking as he leaned over it.

 

[moxie]

Rose tinged hues followed the man's every move, from the rise and fall of his chest to his figure pushing itself up onto it's feet. His arm remained outstretched towards the other, though it retracted once Coltrane perceived his Master's decision to use a cloth to cleanse himself instead. He reached over and retrieved the now empty container, teleporting that and the cardboard box back to their original spots. Nonchalantly placing his palms against his knees, the spirit rose to his feet once again, standing a couple of inches shorter than the other. He remained quiet as the crimson haired man leisurely rubbed off parts of the dark powder from his flesh. Several times during the intermission, Coltrane found his eyes languidly wandering down to his Master's chest. Each occasion he managed to catch himself preforming this action, the male would direct his gaze back up to the other's face, simply dismissing it with the excuse that the dark grime upon the skin was what that caught his attention.


Hearing the strict tone in the other's voice, Coltrane transiently glanced at the ground. "I'm sorry, Master..." He responded, vivid hues peering at the man from beneath his lengthy eyelashes. At the displeasure shown within the other's eyes, he visibly bit his bottom lip in guilt. "Sorry..." The familiar repeated in a whisper, mentally berating himself for disappointing the one he literally lived for.


Nodding firmly in response to his Master's statement, he allowed his head to return to it's usual angle, slightly tilted up in an act of courage. His legs strode forward, increasing in speed briefly in order to remain directly behind the other. He climbed the flight of stairs with two steps at a time, halting in the doorway. Coltrane turned himself to the side, leaning his back against the wooden door-frame. The temptation to take a peek at the other whilst he was dressing lingered in the spirit's salacious mind. However, the male fought against this urge and focused on a completely separate matter. He snapped his digits once, his signature puff of scarlet smoke forming around the upper half of his body. As the harmless gas faded away, Coltrane now adorned a black cloak that hung down to the middle of his back. The ends were bordered with silver thread, the silver clasp holding the silky fabric in place garnished with a miniature red gem. The hood was overly large for the user's head size, yet this minor element failed to irritate him.


"Master?" Coltrane spoke up after a small amount of time, hand reaching up to his hair and ruffling the white locks to create a look of volume. "Is it easy for you to remember everything about medicine? How do you make it look so simple when it's so complicated?" He questioned, scratching the back of his head as he turned to face the taller man.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Placing the mythril-plated blade along his mattress, the taller male got to his knees. The cold floorboards were uncomfortable along his limbs as he reached a steady hand under the bed-frame feeling across a thin layer of dust until his digits felt cold leather. The presence of his Familiar made him tilt his head up, glancing sideways at him as he spoke. He slid the black scabbard from its hiding place, and proceeded to secure the Shoulder Harness Sheath along his back, his ears perking at the interesting questions flowing from the other's lips. He raised an eyebrow, fitting his blade snug against his back. Light-green eyes fixed along the face of his young companion, curiosity burning in the air. "I'm very old." He said quietly, strolling towards his dark mahogany dresser, opening the first drawer. Wren lay his hand along the bottom of the capsule, a soft click releasing a small hidden box. He grabbed the silver chest, the cold metal feeling familiar in his hands, before closing the dresser. He opened the lid, sliding a thin blue slated knife into his belt. He was silent for a long moment, slowly gathering hidden items throughout the room, letting his subordinate wait with anticipation. Of the items he'd arranged on the bed, ones that stood out among the rest went against his normal hard exterior personality. A locket, the chain rather thin and lanky, a small pile of soft black stones in a dark-velvet sack, and the remaining of what looked to be a young girl's doll. The silence that hung in the room seemed to draw in the tension that was thick along the red-head's muscles, obviously not keen in the fact that wandering eyes could settle along these small sentimental items. The dust in the corners of the room held their breath as the ringing nothingness in the air intensified.


Finally, the swordsman spoke, releasing the thread that held the room together, letting it unravel. "I've been studying the works of medics, mages, and medicine women for many years." His low voice sounded soft and sturdy as he slipped the thin necklace around his neck, letting it drop behind the collar of his shirt. "The books in this house have all been read numerous times over the course of this house's life." he said this as if there had been other old estates he'd occupied over his lifetime, as if his time extended beyond the lifespan of a normal human. He tied the purple sack to his belt, the doll being held with a gentleness never seen from anyone on the outside. It was the first he'd even lifted these hidden treasures in front of the soft scarlet eyes, sealing his trust in the man clearly. "It only appears easy because it's been a large part of my life." He stared at the hooded male, stalking forward towards the wooden frame. His lightly tanned hand came up to the other's pale cheek, barely brushing against the surface, taking a short moment to see his face clearly. He let his fingers hover for a moment before patting the familiar on the head with a sideways grin plastered on his thin lips. "No more questions, we must be off." he said coolly before stomping quickly down the steps.

 

[moxie]

Cocking his hip to the left and adjusting his stance to be positioned a minuscule distance from the entry, the man crossed his supple arms over his chest. Interest rose in Coltrane's mind as the other spoke up, his voice failing to disturb the tranquillity of the reasonably neat room. Whilst the bright haired man unhurriedly accumulated a selection of objects, that were making their first appearance to the nosy spirit, the said being took this as an opportunity to take a fresh look around his room. He remembered his last visit to the other's bedroom, when he had attempted to search through his belongings due a burning curiosity within him, but that mission was cut short when Coltrane noticed the approaching sound of footsteps. However, the male managed to save himself by hastily throwing himself onto the mattress and summoning a book from his own quarters, claiming that his only purpose for intruding the room was to spend the afternoon reading. When asked why he had decided to preform this leisurely activity in that specific area, Coltrane simply responded with a sincere explanation on how he missed his Master when he worked in some unknown place for hours at a time, and that his room obviously reminded the other of him.


During his detailed scan of the premises, his gaze conclusively settled upon the precious trinkets delicately aligned upon the duvet. Out of the ones present, the item that managed to capture his attention and hold onto it was the dainty remnants of the doll. His trained gaze studied the intricate model, picking up on every little feature of it.


Straightening his posture as the red-head eventually decided to answer Coltrane's questions, the hoary haired being directed his line of sight onto his Master, who seemed to be currently applying accessories to his form. He listened intently to the words rolling off of the other's tongue, considerably satisfied with the replies he was gifted with. His head nodded lightly, as an indication that he indeed had been listening and not merely staring at the man blankly.


Once Wren begun to make his way over to the shorter figure, Coltrane partially spun around to head out the door, yet the unexpected presence of a hand stopped him in his tracks. He peered up at the male, confusion brimming in his rose shaded hues, as the limb simply drifted past his features. A smile broke onto his uncommon features at the mildly affectionate contact he received, but the grin faltered ever so slightly at the statement. "Yes, Master." He responded smoothly, swiftly pattering down the steps after the other.


When the two had made it into living room, the place where Coltrane had previously been spending his free time, the male abruptly paused in his gait. He moved over to the armchair, reaching over to the coffee table where the hefty book and one of his belongings lay upon. Pressing his fingers against the cover of the former, it disappeared into the air, reappearing on the bookshelf where it was originally found. The spirit then nimbly wrapped his slender fingers around the prickly stem of the remaining object. He lifted his free hand and delicately stroked a single petal of the ebony coloured rose, strolling over to the front entrance as he did so. The thorns protruding from dull lime stalk poked into Coltrane's greyish flesh, though failed to break any parts of the skin. His grip on the strange flower remained gentle yet secure, since the last thing he would want to do is drop it.


Pulling open the door with his left hand, Coltrane kept a few digits upon it, holding it still to allow his Master to exit first.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Once drifting into the living room the hearth seemed to greet them. The enchanted flames roaring to life as their presence were made known. He glanced sideways at his companion, slender fingers grasping around a strange flower he'd seen many times. His curiosity wasn't a large burden until the Familiar had come into his home and started lugging the strange plant around. It boggled his full mind at how the rose hadn't withered away or decayed during the past few months, his mind often trying to reach an explanation that could not meet his standards of "normal". He grabbed hold of a thick black cloak, the fabric smelling of burning wood and lavender. He clasped it around his neck with a silver leaf, his green eyes almost glowing as the moon hit his face. A breeze of chilled air swept drops from the sky into his face, misting his skin enough to take note the grime that still caked it. He nodded his thankful approval to his loyal subordinate, taking sharp left so they stood along the right side of the house. Directly in the back a large wrought iron fence separated unknown plant life and dark secrets from prying eyes, a white pebbled path leading into the garden. A similar path, made of soft blue pebbles lead them up a small hill where a large black steed neighed softly in the crisp air. A puff of hot breath fell on Wren's face as he greeted the ebony colored horse, its eyes soft.


Wren worked quickly, a saddle being thrown over the large creatures back and secured tightly before he turned to face Coltrane. "C'mon no more time to waste." He mumbled before lifting the spirit onto the saddle and clambering on behind him. The swordsman took hold of the reigns, his arms gently wrapping around the spirit's waist to hold him upon the horse. A flick of his wrist sent them galloping forward, the sound of rain slamming against his cheeks making a smile break across the elder's face. My foot the castle was an hour or more, but by horse they could arrive there in less time.