Expectations

[Synile]

You don't seem to understand, do you? Mutainy asked. Her voice was shallow with a shrill tone bordering her words and voice. Marcus' own shudder huddle his body close with fear tangling in cords. Marcus was confused as to the words that spilled from her mouth. Mutainy only gained more in altitude, her wings propelling her body upwards through the sky, spiraling with annuity. She had balance and precision well thought out, even her own agility played a role in this game of Cat and Mouse. Marcus only could think of little reasons on what Mutainy had meant. The sentence she spoke, even in that rashly tone she gave, echoed in his head, the repeating words after another over and over and over again. 'You don't seem to understand, do you?' What had she meant? The words and sentence quarreled in his mind, the only thing he focused on. It was a confinement to an order at a point that he had to find out what she meant. But there was only one way of knowing. Asking the question. Asking questions always lead to an answer. But then again, not always. Sometimes a question lead you in the wrong way, ending in a ditch or digging yourself a deeper pit, unable to free of the loss you waisted trying to configure what you wanted to find out. Marcus thought this was a waste of time. Fetid, hopeless and futile meaning to get what he wanted. He needed to know. It was more to hate for want that it is to need. He had to know. The words that embedded the emotion that protruded her voice merely only emphasized her meaning. Personified it into a monster that spoke merely only truth of contempt. Contempt of murder and rational berserk maniac with a broad spectrum of no dial to an end.

Mutainy leveled her body thousands of miles above land, wind and air pushing against them, gravity pulling against her body below and above, keeping her aloft. Mutainy had no limitations to her own desires, let alone even a ground rule to how she got her answers to where she wanted her victims or the information she wanted. If she wanted it, she got it. No matter how far she had to breech or how far she had to go, even if Death was a void in her obstacles, she would surpass him in every other way and get even to retain the genuine vogler she had to grasp. That's maybe one characteristic that brought Marcus to Mutainy's world, changing him even more. But she isn't going to be the only one. She was merely the puppet to the real perfection or in so words, innovation, to his life. The one monster that would devour him in madness and murder that slaughter would be a daily job. No. A hobby. A perfect monster to her creation. Cruelty to murder would be what he was good at. Strike that. He had always been good at it. Mutainy only progressed the craving and luster, his impulse and compulsion, escalating the pure fresh feeling he's had since a child. It would only grow worse in his lively being, giving blood and slaughter a trait of a living being. Marcus could make blood and slaughter come alive and use their daggers of death to rip and score away those who stood in their way or those they chose to remove and sear. It was a perfect plan to maintain the simplicity to Marcus' darkest secret. The Dark Passenger. A Dark Defender. He wasn't the only one...

The demeaning grasp that clanged a ringing bell to warn him the bad news was only coming at a faster pace was waving the stop signs to yield what is now to regret. Mutainy had only arrived as a innocence. Now she was at the nature of her own kind. The Aryan race was bred for blood and murder, not tranquility and order. The only 'order' they had was in the Hallow below Nexus. The Hallow was the home origin of her native breed. Mutainy being the creator and leader of the true aspects of corruption. Sanguine's "perfect breed." A aspect of her blood. Her children. Followers to bend down to greed and prosper a new meaning to Sanguine's utter conversion of Nyrvyria and the Aryan race. Converting them into a more stronger, volatile breed much like the Sanguyne and Syngyne. The dragon and riders of Blood. The imprinted ones of Blood's vestigial mark. The mark of the Fallen. They were the old ones to rule the order of the ancient times of the Sanguyne breed. The Fallen and the Unforgotten. Two orders that divided Nyrvyria into a state of corruption and immoral decimation. Two powers, two breeds, one demise. All they could ever consult was a blood feud. It couldn't get any more bloody than that. Oh, yes it can. Temples built and ancient intervals and prisons were managed and under the construction, soon to be made against each other, leaving the opposing breed on the inside of their slaughter houses to be murdered or tortured. They hated one another, so they took it out on each other for the greed of power. Soon the leaders of the two breeds once stood and battled their own war. Sanguine, leader of the Fallen and Narcyssil, leader of the Unforgotten. Sanguine's reprisal lead to his fall. A day in history only meant to be written in his blood.

Mutainy's voice of shallow, cold malice prodded Marcus' mind, sending a cold chill down his spine and body. Do you remember? The old, ancient times of Nyrvyria? The past that this planet has to define as hostile cruelty?
"No."
How not so? You were the Unborn child of the vestigial mark of the Fallen. How can you not know?
"I don't have the memories no more. They're vanished and washed away in the distant sea of forgotten memories."
Then that bloody water is carrying the regrets you wished to not remember. Why?
"What do you mean why?"
Why let it all go? Wash it away and let none return to you.
"Because I don't want to remember."
Too much pain?
"No."
Or is it the regret that is tugging on your shoulders? Carrying too much weight with them?
"...."
Speechless I see. Very well then, then I must shall bring you those memories with the taste of disarray you've never felt before in your entire emotionless life.
"What do you mean?"
Bedlam my boy. Only the works of blood can confine the laws of Slaughter. The Slaughter Rule. You obey it well as I do and the rest of us. Disobey and show insubordination, you only had death in your wake.

Marcus was puzzled yet again, unknown to Mutainy's riddles and laws of her own sentencing and placed words. She could manipulate her words to be believable and true, even if they were lies. She could transform her lies into basic things of pure truth; she was as good as a sly fox. You never knew when her storm of a massacre was going to hit. Mutainy was unpredictable. An unexpected event. Time's strongest opponent. Eventually her weakness would show, but when? How? Marcus knew hers just like she knew his. He wouldn't exploit even the slightest, but would she? Mutainy was untrustworthy at times, mainly her side of rage. She would do the uncanny and unexpected, giving you the false condolences and time for you to even gain quick breaths to see what was avow to her own malicious ways. This only made Marcus' life even more worse and deadly while riding on the back of a assumed "traitor" and the grappling damned dragon that only feared her true image; the fear she only had when a volatile creature like her was consumed by the masked dark passenger she carried in the passenger seat. The driver was no longer in control. It was the consuming power of the dark passenger she withholds in her very body, driving the monster into madness and instability. Marcus could only think of how that would go....

He was screwed.

[Sangyne]

{Man I haven't replied in this thread forever -.- Screw trying to remember or even read my last post. }

Sangyne bared her teeth in feral rage, a smile dancing across her as she tugged at the cahins holding her down. James looked at her, a fire in his eyes as he became enraged, seeing her blood on the ground as it seemed to glisten in the firelight aroung them as small fires burned here and there. Sangyne growled. Looking to james. James got to his feet, holding his side, he took one step, and fell to his knees.

Blood merely slipped between his fingers, as slowly, one by one, his organs shut down- minus the heart which was not there but replaced with a Zrydin. He coughed up blood, ignored it, and got to his feet again. Sangyne looked to him, unable to move, seeing as his own strength was failing him, his lungs had given out not to long ago. He didn't breathe, and if he did it was followed by blood. His own stomach was revolted against him. He was already dead, the woes of a serial killer- one under the Annevile Guideline of life, a way of living far stronger then any other 'god' that could exists. Pitiful humans.

Sangyne nuzzled him as he had gotten at least close enough for that.He felll... And didn;t get back up. He looked to her, his dark eyes cold, like ice. He wasn't like the warm hearted person he had been before. Whatever happened to that boy is long gone.