Description: The translocation of Metro City was a very neat way for Lord Dohma to meet new and interesting people -- but even then, he didn't get to welcome each and every newcomer personally. He's found an opportunity to rectify this, deep beneath the streets of a returned Metro City.
It had been a grand old night so far, eating in a half trashed eatery that dared to stay open late enough for her custom. They probably bet on the presence of customers that just wanted to eat quietly and were threatening enough to keep away the lesser hoodlums away. She'd dined, ...she'd danced.
The fires and near riotous conditions she'd left in her wake had automatic weapons fire, armoured vehicles peeling out and fleeing the scene all while she continues a near berserk rampage on spectators and bystanders. It' was an ~amazing~ night and apart from the odd vulgar or colourful comment yelled or blurted in her direction she coasts through this see of depravity and trash quite unmolested. One group of men that half moved to block her path decided against doing at the last moment, her taunting smile and relaxed saunter while doing so could or should have provoked them further but there was just something about tonight, everything was just going her way.
She takes the first couple of steps two at a time as she diverts from footpath to the forboding looking entrance down into the subway, shreds of tape, plastic barriers and cones don't even remotely dissuade her passage but just a few steps in she stops for a second to wince and then begins taking them one at a time rather than bounding down any further. That fool in the ugly ass suit better be dead after all that.
Picking a path through the still present rubble and over the tracks she slips her frame under and around through the maze of fallen rubble at speed speaking to her familiarity with the passage she emerges into a cavern of flat ground where she no longer had to continue her weaving dance and just strolls brazenly in, fists on hips and her voice ringing out to echo around.
"Baboya!"
There is an answering silence nearby as someone suspends doing what they were doing and their silence and stare is palpable, deafening. A few stray flashlight beams turn in her direction from around the room and way up high close to the ceiling; The room itself is immense in scale. The presence nearby responds to her with its attention but wisely makes no assumptions about why she did.
"Get me a cloth or something cold."
A pouring of water and it splashing on the gravel underfoot she plucks it form that meaty paw, the hand withdraws the moment she takes it. It's dark and there's no point looking around just yet, not as she plomps herself down on the bulk of a metal girder, it wasn't a bad seat. Cold as all hell but the way she reclines and lounges makes it seems a throne, sighing with relief as she lays the cloth on her brow and over her eye and the faint swelling above it.
"How much progress?"
Far above near the ceiling a shower of sparks and the harsh buzz, arc and pops of welding resuming after the identify of the new arrival was relayed throughout. The lack of information or forthcoming information wasn't a great sign. A setback? That might explain the sudden bustling of activity since she arrived. If Juri weren't in such a good mood it potentially might have gotten a little more dangerous, but at the moment she's quite composed and relaxed.
She'd eaten her fill for now.
Metro City had begun returning to normal, with the typical mars on its grandiose ego. The shining Metro City Bridge was no more, of course, and many of the skyscrapers were demolished for no longer meeting safety standards. The lush greenery of the Park are still several seasons away.
The grand architect of the disaster, though, has never been more keenly interested in the city's progress -- both above-ground and below. The abduction of the city was never really -supposed- to be permanent -- rather, the goals were twofold. The first goal was to terrify the rest of the world, to invoke widespread fear of the so-called "darkstalkers" into the minds of the human population.
But the other, the "Unholy Genesis" was to nurse a new lifeform into existence, fed by the souls of the zealous defenders of Il Paradiso, twisted and shaped into a darker, more malevolent whole. He'd turned back the curtain to reveal this new lifeform for a few moments before his rage subsided, replaced with his more casually sneering veneer.
It's that same veneer that curls his lips as he remains in the shadows. The creature of the night hardly needs light to see -- in fact, he had just been passing through, wondering why workers were toiling all through the night on something so grandiose, and yet, hidden. The connection with Juri Han, though... was not clear.
It's more clear now. The Black Messiah strokes his chin in thought. Juri... has given him difficulties in the past, harassing his subordinates time and time again.
She will not do so now.
The demon lord waits for Juri to get settled in her throne before striding out of the shadows. Stray light catches upon the razor-sharp edges of his wings, his peculiar headgear casting dark shadows across his face but doing naught to hide the deep crimson glow of his irises.
"Yes, tell us of the progress," he suggests in a casual voice, as if the bloodweaver had every right to be here.
The way he sees it, of course he does.
His question may have been directed to Baboya, or whichever worker Juri addressed -- but his eyes focus only on the only person who might provide even a slight challenge to his authority, his lips rife with thick condescension.
Now there, was a voice she did not recognise!
Wiggling and scrunching her bare toes with their painted nails she bites her lip and chews thoughtfully letting the pregnant pause begin to draw out as the man at her side in the dark draws himself up to square off with Jedah and is coming up well short in terms of height. Was the MMA fighter going to choose this moment this moment to disappoint her finally and completely as she lets him twist in the wind? Who was the more intimidating between the new voice and her?
He holds his tongue.
"LIGHTS!"
Her yell reverberates while the woman herself continues to recline as she so wishes, cold compress pressed to her eye she hasn't even snuck a peek yet. The workmen or whomever they up in the rigging high above behind to call back and forth, work interrupted by a sudden unreasonable request right in the middle of something.
"TURN ON MY DAMN LIGHTS!"
A half minute latter the breaker is flipped and the space is blasted with light by the high overhead rigging. Steel framework and gantries line the domed ceiling and perhaps only as third of the lights are actually throwing down any real light while others aren't yet wired or are casting their beams off in unusual directions without being set. There's a few pops of smoke and series of flashes and sparks from somewhere high above, those she can see and hear though the cloth. As she seemingly reluctantly swings herself into a slouched but upright seated position she drops the hand holding the cloth into her lap.
So that's who it was, and he was alone.
Juri hadn't really heard the voice speak in such a low key before, what constantly repeated news clips there were of the whole ordeal here tended to focus on the grandiose speeches and messages to the world. The voice hadn't hit her right away. Her composure a little damaged by his appearance she notably glanced around him to see if anyone was with him before glancing upwards.
"Oh? So we're about this far along..."
She way she answers: she evaluates the progress for herself, /for herself/ rather than letting Jedah think she was intimidated or cowed into anything by him. The abandoned subway station and turntable is in a dismal state of repair, dated and actually painted signs that probably hailed back to like 50's America, walls covered in decades of graffiti and all harshly lit by electric light the place hadn't seen in some thirty of forty years. Even the tunnels are blocked and boarded up and the rails themselves fallen away or been ripped clean out. It didn't really hold a candle to some of the more fantastical underground buildings and bases that Mad Gear tended to get to up and build. A wide platform like a stage and a freight elevator, an shitty kitset security office overlooking the floor.
It wasn't a fixer upper, it was a shithole, but one that had been completely overlooked.
The MMA fighter's barely-restrained temper is silently noted by the Black Messiah, but with his focus fixed so resolutely upon Juri, it's not clear he's even paying him any mind. It must be infuriating to be so inconsequential: if you are not strong, then by process of elimination you are weak.
Juri is clearly in charge, through her stance, and her command over the situation. The fact that she has to state each of her demands twice, though, pulls Jedah's lips into a wider grin. A more subtle change might be lost in the harsh lighting -- the razor-sharp wings melt away into an amorphous red mass, clinging to Jedah's left arm. Once the lights come on, the end result would become more obvious, as the mass of blood has adopted a 1.5-meter-long shape, vaguely resembling a weapon. Jedah's right hand has raised to shield his fel eyes from the intense light, his expression still bearing that rictus of amusement...
The bloodlord's mild discomfort lasts only a moment, though, as the premeditated construct reveals itself to be a ghastly parasol, leathery fabric held taut by six long metallic support ribs, each of which sharp and threatening enough to provide a challenge. As the pallor of Lord Dohma's skin falls once more into shadow, he seems confident that his personal space will not be threatened.
Jedah takes note of the casual glances to see if the bloodweaver is alone after all. "... You needn't worry about the good Doctor. She's hard at work, you see." Casually spinning the parasol a quarter-turn, he adds with his lips in a slight downturn, "She -does- ask about you quite often, though. Poor doctor... her heart is so fragile."
He -does- seem pleased to see the progress of the location, though. Well, 'pleased' in that he's not completely disgusted by it. "I'm not so keen on the 'fifties Americana' look, but it's nothing a few gallons of blood couldn't fix."
He lets his words echo in the chamber for a few moments before continuing, in a slightly lower tone. "How on earth do you plan on defending such a place in this state, though? So many secret passageways, such substandard lighting. It seems much more well-suited towards the... -true- creatures of the night."
The threat is palpable, though the weight of the statement may be diluted by the faint smile he presents afterwards, as he watches hawkishly for Juri's response.
The thing with the parasol was a cute trick, it spread unease through the few onlookers or possibly allies that Juri had while provoking at least a mild response, which she makes by slowly craning forward into a position she can spring from, appearing to lean in more intently to study the phenomena while also being ready to counter-attack. Her quirk of the head as it spread into the parasol registers both as amusement and a cold calculating interest. Did he not like her lights or was disadvantaged by them... that would be interesting information to possess.
The reference to the 'good doctor' however is a tipping point between Juri considering an opponent analytically and emotions kicking in. The last time she'd seen Tessitore the woman had been half beaten to death by Keith 'Aranha' Mason- sure this was the same city and this was probably her employer but still, what was meant by that?
If he was expressing an interest in his underlings or Juri herself she had no real clue, but that tormenting smile and the questions he asked she had to assume he was trying to get either into her head or under her skin.
"I just need to make it attractive enough to someone -- then the fun starts. Doesn't matter who wants to take it. They take it and they run the fights, someone decides to take over so they fight over it. I just let it go 'to the strongest' ..and when I want it? I take it back."
Halfway through her sentence she has walked the dozen feet to the central feature of the room, the giant rotating disc turntable formerly used to divert trains into the now disused and sealed subway system. The lights pounding down on her head and shoulders mirrors the warmth rising inside as she folds her arms around to hold herself and imagines all of the bloodshed and violence that could potentially occur here.
"Can you see it?"
She did, a modern day coliseum of blood sports with room for crowds baying for blood, not confined to back alleys or small time establishments. She turns her face up to the light and just soaks it all in, she wasn't a manager.. She didn't want anything that would tie her down. Her excitement is contagious, the men working in the rafters, all throughout the room bay, howl and or stomp their feet, those in the rigging filling the room with arrhythmic metallic thunder as draws her arms up her body and spreads them wide to soak in an atmosphere only she sees so precisely. With her utter lack of faith in a balance being found or power shared, Even if this turned into a regular fighting domain... she would take it back, burn it back to the bedrock and let chaos take root again.
Lord Dohma's shade-granting parasol is given hardly a thought -- it even seems to hover on its own accord as the bloodweaver's bemused gaze is transfixed upon the charismatic Korean. When she turns into the light, the bemusement fades by a degree, but it returns in spades when the crowd begins to chant, howl and bay in concert.
His lips turn to mirth as he waits for a lull in the cheering, an appropriate time for his voice to be heard.
The bloodweaver does not shout or raise his voice, but the dulcet tones of his condescension can be heard by all just the same: "Miss Juri Han, you are a fool."
The haft of the parasol is gripped lightly by the demon lord, snapped in two with a casual gesture. With a flip of the wrist, the parasol's handle is whipped out towards Juri, transforming in a ruddy blur into a double-edged scythe, catching the light in such a way as to indicate -exactly- how sharp the blades are.
But the blade does not obey physics, per se -- its forward momentum disappears a mere foot away from Juri, an ominous demonstration of Lord Dohma's bloodweaving abilities. Should she move, the spinning blade would move to maintain its distance, never -quite- allowing her to swat it from the air.
"Charming, perhaps," he continues with narrowed eyes, "but a fool all the same. Perhaps your self-preservation instinct was ripped out of you along with that eye." His lips have turned into a disapproving frown. "Or perhaps you have forgotten the sorry state you'd left my doctor in -- or that of any of my -other- associates."
His penetrating stare does not depart Juri, but he does gesture about with a turn of his chin. "This... /dream/ of yours is, of course, contingent upon your survival... and yet, you turn a blind eye to such, squandering your existence by staring into the light... rather than into the eyes of someone you must -surely- know appreciates your severed soul more than your embodied existence."
Jedah's facade is one of malignant distaste, as he demonstrates that Juri is not the only one who knows how to work a crowd. He's cognizant of the fear, of the rage... of all the emotions of the workers gathered here. But as far as he's concerned, this is a private conversation between he and Juri, as he gauges whether the full measure of his condescension has been properly communicated.
It is enough, he decides, as his lips turn up into a smirk. "Charming." The parasol disobeys gravity as it hovers just over his shoulder, not unlike the rapidly-spinning blades hovering mere inches from Juri.
"Do I have your full attention now, Miss Han? I would hate for you to go into a business agreement without both eyes open." He pauses, deliberately and ominously. "So to speak."
Oh? Now he went and used her family name like that it cuts through her reverie with such a singularly sour note, nobody else here knew that name in full; that irked her others here would remember it, he'd been doing his homework! -or- at least playing up or selling his ability to gather information. The smell of blood being so strong was somewhat intoxicating, as was the danger presented by the spinning scythe blade and that's enough for her to willingly return to the present.
"The Doctor huh? If you're still hung up on that tell her to come see me. I'll kiss it better."
The idea wasn't without appeal that lab coat was hiding a rather dynamite figure. But that wasn't all Juri was hinting at, sure.. send me one of your precious toys and I'll train it well. Take ownership of it. Maybe 'Lord' Jedah was right and she had no sense of self-preservation, the way she off handed flicks her hand with a dismissive bat at the levitating and spinning blade like it were a mere noiseome annoyance rather than a threat.
"So-so, I guess you're right there that it is 'contingent on my survival.' But- that's all I can plan for; that and I don't give a shit what happens to the world when I'm dead. So that simplifies matters."
Simple or foolish, they probably look much the same. A very finite, mortal take on survival in the world. She didn't give much all of a shit for whatever this freak was offering but the fact she was for herself at least being 'civil' and hearing him out was two parts curiosity to one part still a lifetime of manners drilled into her. This was maybe the first she'd heard of him appreciating her soul, considering the condescending and acting so high and mighty he must place quite a value on it coming on down here in person. Or- he really cared about his minions and thought his intelligence gathering was better than it actually was.
Juri hadn't actually laid a finger on that doctor, but maybe she was playing her boss against the Korean in hopes of getting something she wanted... that was kind of devious and more than a little admirable, possibly cute both that he was so well informed and yet mislead.
Not infallible or all powerful at all.
But that was fine, she could appreciate the merit of a good grudge and the nuances of this two fold one levelled at her was positively delightful. It was like dealing with an angry father who didn't like his treatment of her daughter but still had the stones to want to talk business.
Not bad old man! She'd bite and give his proposition at least consideration enough to hear it out. One arm folding across her abdomen she cradles and props up the arm she lays her cheek against it as she remains in place, the fact the blade was so reacting to any way she moved or gestured indicated that he wanted her to remain where she was.
What attention she was willing to give was fixed upon him and even now he surprises with such a terrible joke. She ratchets up the number of her inpromptu judgement on just /how old/ and out of touch Jedah seems. Condescension, threats and then a terrible joke at best or at worst he was too senile to realize he'd gone and said something approximating a joke.
In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter if Juri hit Tessitore or not: by upsetting the plans of the Soul Bees and defeating the wild card Bishamon, her mere presence seems to have destabilized the plans Jedah had laid to wreak terror upon the citizens of Metro City.
But it would just seem petty for him to bring up -all- those things. If Juri wants to think that he treats Tessitore like his daughter, so be it. The less she can piece together about his -true- motivations, the better.
As it is, Juri doesn't seem to be afraid of the blade -- as if she's daring Jedah to hurt her, even.
Paying no heed to Juri's lack of commitment towards the coliseum's long-term success, he continues with his business. "I admit that I don't know everything. Why -are- you missing an eye? Does the thought of revenge ever enter that pretty little head of yours?"
Reaching out with her index and middle fingers Juri brushes fingertips across the surface of the plain black eyepatch as he asks about the eye concealed beneath. She wasn't offended; thoughc she was hardly going to give up even more information about herself or pretend this was harmless 'story time with Jedah.' Impulsively she curls a nail under the lip and lifts while snapping the cord binding it to her head with a sudden jerk. No visible scarring, eye closed as though she were sleeping it's pretty as a picture the surgeons who had spent so long tirelessly working to save her life had done a fine job preserving her looks same-time. Perhaps it put all their fine work to shame when the eye drifts open to reveal the featureless black coloured prosthetic that so looks like a whole in her head.
"Well... who knows? But revenge. There's a topic that's very near and dear."
Covering that named organ with both her hands now in form of bad pantomime, it come wrapped and packaged with a sardonic smile. Come to think of it- wasn't this all to be attributed to some power mad fool dropping half a city block on her head and near drowning her in a river of actual blood? If that hadn't happened in the nearby subway station then she never even would have discovered this place or had it leave quite the impact on her that it had.
"Do you mean to appeal to my better nature and help me take revenge?"
That'd be a cute trick, did he even know she was more considering her revenge on and against him at the time; would he cut his own head off or open his own vein or guts to try and square things with her? That would be a first where she wasn't sure how much she would be able to enjoy or accept it, worth a try. As for the other relationship relating to her eye, that was still something of a private matter and she isn't the most sharing and caring of people.
It may be difficult to hear in the wake of the roaring, hooting, and hollering... but the tunnels leading into the coliseum-to-be are filled with the echoes of some sort of hustle and bustle. Lord Dohma does not seem to be paying it much mind, for his own part, focusing instead on Juri and keeping the double-edged blade spinning mere inches away from her. An eyebrow of his twitches when she answers with the utmost in disrespect -- 'who knows?' She damn well -better- know. The blade wobbles ever so slightly in its path.
But Jedah is more resolute than that; his lifespan stretches across multiple generations, and being baited into action by a disrespectful whelp is the path of a lesser demon lord. He can see the signs of Juri's distaste for him -- indeed, he's -counting- on revenge of some sort. In a macabre way, he'd like to see the taekwondoka -try- to kill him.
"Revenge is a noble aim. Perhaps I will help you." A smile creeps across his face as a ghastly howl resounds throughout the cavernous chamber. The source of the cry is a dozen creatures shambling forth from one of the tunnels feeding into the coliseum.
With a casual squeeze of his hand, the double-edge blade spinning before Juri collapses into an orb of pulsating blood. With a leftward sweep of the same hand, the orb of blood splashes against the neck and collarbone of the MMA fighter Juri seemed to have been favoring most. As Jedah extends his first two fingers, the blood coagulates, drawing in upon itself and adopting the form of a criminally sharp dagger, pressed firmly against the undoubtedly awestruck fighter.
Thus, Juri is left free to react to the charge of a zombie as it defies its decaying appearance, clearing 20 feet in a single bound to make a vicious overhand slash. A second and a third undead horror follow behind it, leaping in similar fashion to deliver more brutal blunt-force trauma, should the taekwondoka not be so lucky.
In the meantime, an overly smug Jedah and his floating parasol lift away from the ground, hovering into a comfortable distance for which to merely observe the ensuing melee. "You've grown fat and complacent. You're in no shape to exact revenge if you only challenge the weak." Challenging words with questionable truth -- but that's the game that Jedah plays. A man does not need to play nice with legions of the undead at his beck and call.
COMBATSYS: Training Mob has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Training Mob 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Juri has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Training Mob
COMBATSYS: Juri blocks Training Mob's Strong Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Training Mob
That was cute, did he expect her to leap to the defence of some shmuck who got themselves caught up in something? Whether Jedah was ascribing some kind of value or relationship between Juri and her 'fool' that implied having one or the other as a hostage would accomplish anything she had no idea. The buzzing and annoying threat levelled at her shifted to him and left a knife at his throat.. HA! So what!? Juri loathed being played and wasn't inclined to baited so easily into things she wasn't personally interested in doing.
She was no hero, was this some big dumb motivator? To 'help with her revenge' Save your prince? Sure she was sleeping with the guy but shit, that was just a sign of the times. How fucking old was this Jedah guy? He's hysterial.
Her fixation on the melodrama playing out leaves her blind to the encroaching zombies until the first actually springs at her. More precisely it's the shadow on the arena floor darting toward her; just enough to get an arm up and recoil some away from the blow. Taloned claws never quite reach the pale flesh they were aiming for but the still shocked Juri is suddenly under pressure to get moving as yet more follow suit, zombies... always with the numbers. Twisting and lashing out with forearm and contorting her legs around she blocks, braces against and turns aside each lash aimed her way until she can at least roll-out and away, shrugging out of her jacket she balls it up in both hands and throws it aside, black bikini top with the spider legs detailed in red over her left breast all she's wearing on her torso.
Left to her own devices she'd probably disrobe more just so she didn't get this stink on her clothes but it's all she can manage as she turns a fast pirouette and throws a low sweep, well away from her opponents the move only appears to threaten them in any way when she throws out the sheet of violet purple energy that washes across the arena floor at an ankle consuming height.
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Training Mob with EX Fuhajin.
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Training Mob
Jedah's amusement at Juri only grows when he realizes -why- Juri's getting so bothered. In all actuality, the attack on the MMA fighter was not intended to evoke pity or concern from Juri -- from everything the bloodlord knows about Juri, pity and concern are the furthest from her mind. So to see her heap even more scorn and disgust upon the loathsome bloodweaver... well. It's endearing, in its own fashion.
But while the fighter struggles, and the other fighters are strongly encouraged to stand and watch the disrobing taekwondoka clash with the undead squad, Jedah merely floats at a safe distance, folding his arms and watching with muted interest. "More concerned with appearances and material goods than your own well-being... it's these petty concerns we need to work on ignoring, mmmm?"
Of the three battlers from the first attack, two of them stop to jeer at the taekwondoka for whipping out a kick that falls much too short to be of any real value. It's these two that get bowled over by the violet energy wave that follows, knocking the spectral wind out of their desiccated lungs and blasting them to the ground. The third is smart enough to leap free as his compatriots take the heat, rotten teeth glinting in the harsh underground lighting.
And then they make their second push -- two more rush in to take the others' places. These two seem to be working together -- they're aiming to tackle Juri, grabbing onto her, with one applying a choke hold while the other clings onto the fighter's legs, with an intent of taking the kicker's most lethal weapons out of the equation, while the third closes in for a bashing strike to the skull.
If they speak at all, it's with a dull, meaningless roar -- they're clearly -trying- to speak, but lack the knowledge of how to do so with withered vocal chords.
COMBATSYS: Juri instinctively dodges Training Mob's Threnody of the Sweeping Mists.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Training Mob
The lights weren't doing her any favours pouring down all that wattage and heat on these things.. Unless she was willing to wait them out until they dried up like jerky. Making a vulgar display of spitting on the floor she pinches each nostril in turn and snorts to get the clogging smell out of her system for just a moment.
"These STINK!!"
A frank assessment. Perhaps it was one of her faults that she was vain enough to care about her appearance but who could argue against these kind of results- The instant she becomes aware of the offensive she flows under and around this new attack like it were choreographed dance with her svelte figure and a fluid motion that lets her weave and flow just so. The grab passes high over her back while shes already turning into the speed she needs to butterfly her legs over and above the second unwelcome intruder, leaving the danger zone well before the one who leapt for her even arrives she has repositioned; and having so done so she lands and glides to a stop.
Before raising a foot to the spine of the closest undead horror and shoving it toward the others hoping to take them down in a tangle in a rather dismissive display of what she thought of the horrors. These were old hat, she'd lived through Jedah's reign, alone for the most part; Juri still recognised she was being surprisingly delicate and it felt a little off in her head but she just didn't want to get any closer to these wretched smelly things than she absolutely had to.
Had /more/ than her fair share of being coated in honey and zombie guts for one lifetime thank-you-very-much. They didn't even feel very satisfying to fight, like smashing hobo's made of matchsticks that smelt even worse on the inside than they did on the outside.
COMBATSYS: Training Mob interrupts Medium Throw from Juri with Hymn of Better Tomorrows.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Training Mob
"Breaking your new toys will be perfectly acceptable," Jedah notes upon witnessing Juri's delicacy. She doesn't want to hurt them? That's so adorable -- but even more indicative of how much she loathes the smell. Which, one supposes, is fair.
As Juri weaves and bobs around the undead monstrosities hoping to choke the life out of her, Jedah spares a moment to glance back at the terrified fighter who still had a knife pressed against him. With an audible smirk, Dohma raises his hand and summons the blood knife back to his open palm, quietly reconstituting it into the haft of his parasol with as little a care as one putting away a card in a billfold. With those that flock to Juri, understanding is clear -- less so with the lioness in charge, of course. The bloodlord knows well that she will resist the hand dealt to her in any way possible -- hence, narrowly escaping the attacks of the horde. But when she kicks -- it would seem she kicks a bit -too- hard, the brittle spine giving way and actually -trapping- the taekwondoka's foot. The monster gives a raspy laugh as he clutches at the foot now protruding -through- his chest, holding on tight while his buddies get a free shot at Juri -- fists are swung, feet are thrust into her midsection, teeth are loosed upon her unbound ankle. If she was hoping to get off scot-free, it probably won't happen now...
But at least the zombie she just kicked a hole through won't be troubling her, once she can wrench her foot free.
Jedah claps... slowly. Deliberately. Because he knows that more reinforcements are on the way to make this a bit more... interesting.
If her constitution were any less hardy Juri would probably be throwing up with the combination of the smell, the greasy-slick feeling of rotten entrails and innards wrapped and tangled around her foot like so much effluent spaghetti.. to top it off it'd grabbed her leg and trapped her fast. This doesn't take a whole lot of time to dawn on Juri but right away it's more than too late to do anything about it.
She was formidable, WORLD-CLASS and ELITE! She swung for the fences and loved when bone and sinew gave way under her blows but her focus on her speed and flexibility didn't mean SHIT when -
"Let go of me you UN-DEAD-FUCK!"
Screaming and hissing like a furious mad cat she weathers a camera worthy beat down that would have elicited screams of outrage from an audience. The wrenching and searing pain in her ankle she can't even identify but it's the rain of blows and being smacked and beaten around by the two deadites that had been making eyes with her when she was trapped that has her full attention. She only had two arms and since they had four they won't even let her defend herself, it's a mauling.
"ENOUGH!"
The buildup of energy is as sudden as it is violent, she shunts power down her trapped leg and cores the bastard right out to free her leg, then in the following moments she just starts instinctively kicking and slashing, goring at anything and everything around her in a blind, pain filled rage with misaimed masses of energy scattering wildly with no care for the hazard to her sometime allies or Jedah.
When the dust settles she's definitely all beat and scuffed up, leaning her weight heavily to one side so as to favour the bloody and tattered ankle while she tests her footing and if it'll take her weight. It's the only reason she's even stopped attacking like a madwoman.
COMBATSYS: Training Mob blocks Juri's Fuharenjin.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Training Mob
"Such language..." Jedah considers adding 'what would your mother think if she'd heard you say that', but considering the mood Juri's in -- well, he already surmises the response he'd get. Even that thought amuses him, for the moment.
The zombie horde withdraws as soon as they get a sense of the burning purple energy -- it scorched their brethren before, and they're fully aware of it now. Drawing back, they shield their hollow eyes with their arms, a reprisal of long-dead survival instincts -- though their pale skin and tattered clothes do little to resist the sheer power behind Juri's attack. Forced backwards from the attack, the monsters seem to actually -heed- her request to back the heck away, if only for a moment.
"Tsk, tsk... you are, after all, only human. What's that they say... 'whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger?'" Jedah croons quietly, buffing his long fingernails across his sleeve in an utterly unnecessary gesture. "If you were a creature of the night like /me/, simple injuries wouldn't stop you..."
After their moment spent to regroup, the undead horde moves again, with five of them coordinating for one large push, aiming to dogpile Juri to the ground, with biting, clawing, and battering attacks. Their lack of 'proper' form seems to be the only thing that can hamper Jedah's good mood right now... he privately hopes that Juri's technique can be instructive to the undead horde, moreso than the converse.
COMBATSYS: Juri interrupts Power Throw from Training Mob with Senpusha.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/----===|=======\==-----\1 Training Mob
It wasn't looking so good for Juri, she was outnumbered and these undead morons at least had the presence of mind to tear up one of her legs for the modest price of just one of their number, which was her offense and her manoeuvrability in the very least hampered. The ground around the injured foot was running slick and warm with her own blood, greasy and cold with 'other' fluids.
In her current mood and situation Jedah pushes all her buttons at once. Talking about and bringing up that bitch right now? Does he even know how many times she was thrown into competition in EVERYTHING well above her skill level as a child with every nuance of what she ever did wrong use to critique and belittle her? THE BITCH WAS DEAD! SHOT IN THE HEAD!!
That had happened to Juri also - but she had survived. She knew what her mother would have said but the bitch could shove that decorum bullshit up her orifice of choice in whatever hell she was burning.
When the zombie horde closes in, leaping and slavering on the slightly hunche dover figure still favouring one of her legs she looks doomed, certainly no room for escape but with the absolute red blinding fury Jedah has provoked she's glad they're coming to her.. all at once! Come on!
"URAAAAAAAAAH-RA ORA! ORA! ORA!!"
Turning her whole body into one massive pin-wheeling and mowing blade she grinds down the zombies foolish enough to throw themselves at her; Scattering guts, their limbs and skulls like a Motal Kombat fatality her injuries weren't stopping her at all, just slowing her down and provoking her to be even more desperate, savage with her movements or take bigger risks for greater reward.
Desperation and savagery are quite effective in combat -- qualities Jedah tends to respect highly. And qualities he'd -hoped- to inspire in order to help Juri.
Not to mention, he's perfectly capable of pissing her off even without sending legions of undead after her. That's just a bonus -- and one that he takes careful note of.
Shattered into chunks of bone and rent sinew, the front is torn asunder, ripped apart from the very core. But in ripping the zombies limb from limb, Juri also seems to have provided an advantage to the advancing horde: ammunition.
The next wave of attackers grabs for the dismembered limbs of their brethren. Jedah casually opens the clasps on his coat, baring the fel-laced arteries of his true self. While the pale souls of the departed are drawn towards the blood lord, the undead army collects the discarded bone shrapnel -- and without any hesitation at all, lobs the splintered weapons at Juri, hoping to distract and confuse her -- and if anything gets torn open in the process, so freaking be it!
COMBATSYS: Juri dodges Training Mob's Reliquary of Shattered Souls.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Training Mob
Everything was covered in crap and all this rotting gore, it clung to her skin and seeped into her clothing, painted across her arena floor like a Jackson Pollock piece though littered with still twitching limbs and body parts that didn't quite know when to finally die for real this time. The advance of even more opponents forces her to dig down deeper especially when she notes them picking up the pieces and shards leftover of their comrades.
The first few shards and lumps are wildly aimed, no real threat until the saturation and absolute wealth of bits and shards left throw factors against her. Juri dives and slides her way across to seize hold of a relatively sturdy looking leg and spins it around foot side up to spear the severed joint down into the still gnashing maw of a limbless torso, it might even have been his leg once upon a time..
Sitting herself like any true delinquent she heaves the entire body and weight of the corpse up to sling across her back, shielding her from thrown debris and detritus while she catches her breath much like Jedahs own use of a parasol. When the barrage inevitably dies off and she can hear herself think once again she dumps the whole thing and turns to consider what they've made of the battlefield.
How nice of them to clear all that crap away so there was room to fight without tripping. Starting back at an awkward sprint she ignores the protests of her ankle as she visibly throws herself at the horde, kicking and snapping at anything she can get close enough to that hasn't already lay down and finally quit.
COMBATSYS: Training Mob dodges Juri's Kick Combo.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Training Mob
The undead horde is perplexed by the ability of this lowly -human- to avoid even the slightest scratch from the hurled bits of their brethren. Jedah, too, is a bit frustrated -- but it's in the complete ineptitude demonstrated therein. Juri is making a quite admirable showing -- perhaps all the jeering unleashed the true beast within her.
But with Juri weighed down by the corpse and hampered by her ankle, the horde is able to make their own evasive withdrawals from the mad charge of the taekwondoka. The ones nearest to her dive for the ground, while the others leap to safety -- the legs of one coming within mere fractions of an inch from getting pummeled by the combination of attacks.
Jedah remains silent for now -- not wanting to add further fuel to the fire here. He already -knows- how Juri can rise to the challenge -- the question here has now become, how far will she -take- this?
As for the horde -- they've been given one order, and one order alone. And that is to make Juri one of -theirs-. They charge forward, some leaping for her feet, while others aim to tackle her bodily from above, driving their hardened, bony elbows and knees into her repeatedly.
COMBATSYS: Juri endures Training Mob's Elegy of Lost Opportunity EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Juri 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Training Mob
She couldn't catch them? This was pathetic... at least if she'd kept hold of that disgusting zombie leg as it was -- she would have been able to swing it for some extra reach, as it was now they were infuriately taking advantage while she was hobbled and weighed down. Hmph! She jettisons the ballast and drops her improvised shield along with her guard as she seemingly straightens her posture and turns to look around her at what remains of the horde right before it rushes down and over her. Searching for inspiration or merely counting out how many foes she had yet to face?
Immediately overrun she vanishes under the dogpile of animated corpses as they pummel and drive Juri to her knees or worse, whatever is happening in there it can't be pretty as something gets rightly wailed upon at the heart of that one sided melee.
Beaten and tenderized it takes some compose or force of will to wait for just the right moment to push back, after they've come to her again.
The pile bounces as something at the centre shoves up, is settled down upon and does it again with a bit more force; the third time she does so with enough force she lifts at least two zombies into the air before cracking the surface with an animalistic kiai, still wrestling with yet others to free one of her legs for just a moment she kicks it up, finally with the knee strike! She then throws herself into a twisting knee then leaping into a roundhouse kick as she tries to carve her way out in as gruesome a fashion as humanly possible.
Training Mob falls asleep.
Training Mob wakes up.
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Training Mob with Roundhouse Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Juri 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Training Mob
Jedah's smile presses into a thin line as his undead horde piles on top of Juri. It's certainly not an -uneffective- technique, given Juri's extreme distaste for the scent of rotten flesh, but it also eliminates all but the action Jedah was hoping to experience -- the taekwondoka's inner wellspring of energy. The bloodlord unfolds his arms, steepling his hands together as he observes the mass of desiccated matter cloven in twain.
As bits of flesh and gore spattering across the coliseum floor, the animated corpses that -haven't- been wholly ripped apart stare back at the ones who have, unlidded eyes taking in the gruesome sight. Their singular focus, though, is to complete their mission... for, as the bloodweaver hovering a safe distance away casually notes, "The human lifespan is truly too short for the ungifted. After five, six deaths.... perhaps they will turn into something useful."
The ghastly creatures, indoctrinated to follow commands, ignore the fact that they're being basically dumped upon by the Black Messiah, and regather to continue their charge. Their bodies are on the verge of collapse, but still they push further, knowing that their singular focus will be rewarded by a higher salvation. Their brethren have fallen in battle, but there are advantages to such; they are thusly able to gather the splintered bones off the floor, twisting them around into improvised bayonets. Their macabre act will be their last -- the stress from channeling their full might into impaling Juri will be too much for them to stand any further afterwards. Such is the dedication of the zealots that serve Jedah with open arms...
Two gentle taps follow the sound of the carnage: two feet touching the filthy ground once again. The shadow of a parasol is replaced with the long, sinous curve of a scythe. Lord Jedah Dohma is no longer interested in remaining a passive observer. "You have shown great fortitude, a testament to your superior training. But you =do= fully grasp the futility of fighting -against- me... do you not?"
Jedah taps the tip of his newly-formed scythe -- still slick with the blood of its formation -- onto the stone of the coliseum floor. The challenge seems to be that if Juri wants revenge at /all/ costs, she's welcome to take it now. But whether the grinning Jedah expects her to take that bait remains to be seen.
COMBATSYS: Training Mob can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Juri 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Jedah has joined the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Jedah
COMBATSYS: Jedah takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Jedah
Training Mob falls asleep.
COMBATSYS: Juri fails to counter Gravestone of Final Acts from Training Mob with Kasatushi.
[ \\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Jedah
Juri wasn't even listening to him at this point, she hadn't been for some time and was fixated on wrenching her way, kicking and stomping on anything that got in her way or clutched at her leggings. It's only when the masses fall back and the scrape of knives and fragments being drawn against her once again that something gives her pause from her methodical slaughter of the dead-not-dying.
Knives? those were dangerous. She smashes one more Zombie head into an inky green/brown paste underfoot and meets this new charge with a flourish, her hand hits the first attacking arm and she guides her body around and away supernaturally quick her palm wreathing in violet purple as she moves to counter the latest offensive with a-THUNK
The next opponent already at her back has it's blade buried in her vulnerable side which Juri has to crane her neck around to stare at incredulously, another and another they just keep endlessly rushing and smashing into one another simply with the goal to get their blade to or into her flesh. The first blow she was insulated against the pain at first with shock, she starts screaming with some of the later thrusts until she is half encased by the group, all scaffolding together and held up by the supports buried in her flesh.
She had great fortitude to get this far... Futility... Futility... Futility... failure... defeat... words just keep going round and round in her head, escalating in volume while she stands quiet and thinking, possibly or even probably appearing dead to the onlookers she is instead caught in a loop where failure was unacceptable but the walls seemed too high to climb, She wasn't stupid; But how far was she willing to go in a situation where she knew that... all for nothing?
"urrrrrrrrrr-RRREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"
Stabbing her fingertips into one of the zombies faces so close to her own she dashes it's head 'on the pavement' hard enough to make a splash and starts throwing the dead off while swinging wildly until it filters through enough to register and she was finally free already she slumps forward tiredly, the spines and shards still buried deep and at random all over her body, back and gut as well as spine and shoulders, they're even torturously pierced through her arms and soft tissue in her legs. Grabbing one such piercing though her arm she rips it clear with her free hand and wavers on loose legs before she hurls the shard away, discarding it as she had no use for a weapon.
She was hurt, incredibly badly and likewise alongside everyone else in the room didn't think she had a shot in hell of winning, but that doesn't stop her picking-up herself raising a single arm in what might have been a placating gesture to hold on or give her time, until she rotates it around and extends the middle finger.
Message: Fuck-you that's what!
She didn't care about keeping her life, just her pride and she would be content in doing the worst to him that she could. Her grin grows wider now and further removed from even borderline unhinged. This is all kinds of bad dream batshit insane, including facing down what appeared to be an actual reaper.
If he wantyed to fight her, she'd fight!
Training Mob wakes up.
Training Mob falls asleep.
Training Mob wakes up.
One by one, the bones and guts of the undead horde litter the battlefield. The stench is overwhelming -- enough to keep the workers at a fair distance -- air circulation is notoriously bad this far below ground.
Jedah observes the way Juri continues standing even beyond all reason. She could easily be forgiven for collapsing to her feet, after besting a dozen of Jedah's ghastly horrors, hard-won battle trophies still embedded within her torso and her extremities -- but she's not. In the face of certain failure, she remains steadfast and proud. The bloodweaver is not afraid to show his approval, unsteepling his fingers long enough to clap, as one might at a solemn awards ceremony. It certainly comes across as condescending, doesn't it? But the sentiment remains: even through the smug grin, there's a glimmer of approval, a sign that Juri has passed the trial he'd set out to give her.
That glimmer fades as soon as Juri's upraised hand turns to an upraised middle digit. Up until this point, Jedah has remained patient with the petulant Juri, has tolerated the evasive attitude and irritability as the price of doing business. But his patience extends only as far as her civility. A snicker is heard from the peanut gallery, then a repressed laugh -- no one is willing to bust out into raucous laughter, of course, but the audacity of the gesture is such that it certainly can't go without recognition.
Lord Dohma's long eyebrows turn downward. His clapping stops; his hands motion to pull his coat apart at the seams once more, as his scythe balances impeccably beside him. The souls of the recently re-departed waft out from the crushed vessels formerly identifiable as 'human', diaphanous wisps that share some vestiges of the individuals in life -- until they are stretched and warped into incoherent rays headed straight for Jedah's chest.
Normally he allows a few moments of theatrics, as the souls are absorbed within his chest. But not now. His torso glows beneath the clasps as he secures the garment.
Two languid strides are taken towards Juri and her upraised finger... and then he stops. "Do not mistake my politeness as consent to grandstand for the peons who follow you." The condescension continues, as Jedah's offhand is curled about him in a most casual and disconcerned pose -- as if Jedah is doing no further than squishing a mosquito that landed upon his shoulder.
And then suddenly...
It's on.
In the blink of an eye, Jedah's hand has cleared the three-meter distance to Juri -- a trip possible only by the snapping of an elbow bone. Blood and sinew tether the hand to Jedah's body in a purely nominal fashion -- but it is only a small feat for the bloodweaver, as he has full, unparalleled control over the nearly-disembodied appendage.
Detaching his limb would be an impressive feat on its own. But the goal here is to wrap his talons about Juri's hand -- extended middle finger and all -- and wrench it, violently, 180 degrees to the side, quite possibly cracking =her= arm in the process.
With only a slight pause for effect, he repeats, "Who took out your eye, child? Perhaps I wasn't clear before, but I'd like a -name-." The threat is palpable -- the taekwondoka is running out of non-critical places to injure.
COMBATSYS: Juri instinctively blocks Jedah's Quick Throw.
[ \\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Juri 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Jedah
BAD BLOCK! =KA-THUMP= uuuu, the match was over in spectacularly poor form.
Your training is very expensive, Daughter. Why should we spend so much money on Taekwondo if you are not able to show improvement? Is this how you thank us?
"I- I'm sorry."
'Apologies only mean something if you intend to change... DARLING! Stop talking on the phone will you! Did you even -see- the match?'
...Then you need to tell him what I think and the affidavit signed! W--wait a sec here... I don't have time for this, Anae. Do what you think is right.
---At dinner that night the cool and distant atmosphere continued between 'family' over the clink of dinnerware and crystal; a lack of any kind of meaningful or familial conversation.
This Shadaloo case will require me to fly overseas. I leave tomorrow morning quite early, so I expect you both to be ready at 5am sharp. We'll go to the airport together.
'Understood'
"Uhm...What's a 'Chata-lew'?"
'It's not important, Juri. Do as your father says.'
It's okay Dear. I'll explain a bit. Shadaloo is a crime organization, Juri. They have many agents all over the world. I'm one of a handful of prosecutors who are gathering evidence with the help of Interpol so we can put these criminals in jail for a long time.
"It sounds dangerous."
It may be, but it is important and it is also my duty. In that same way, it is your duty to train hard and not embarrass your family. Do you understand?
"Yes Abeoji."
You are my daughter. I expect great things from you-- the sound of her fingers breaking interrupts the flow of time as she was so defiantly flipping the bird and struggling with consciousness. Where the applause had a placating affect where her mind had started to wander it was the sharp pain that bringing her back.
--and the wrenching around that should take her arm, she instead throws a wrench into the works as the Korean turns an expedient side flip with the bloodweavers violent twist in order to preserve her own arm and prevents the pinning down of her range of movement in nimble fashion. She lands with a gentle whisk of fabric and footfall and yet still more of her warm blood jets from the various open wounds and still embedded spines all over her body with the stresses involved.
It was an inhuman quick reaction, to be willing to sacrifice her hand and fingers but maintain her ability to fight on; completely unplanned on her end she's more dimly aware of the breaking of her fingers and alien nature of the arm that was crushing the digits than she was her own reactions. It wasn't right, not human at all this monster.
The sound of gunfire rattles around in her head but she's used to shrugging off the old nightmares else she would have gotten lost in them and how real they felt. Screams that echo down through time and phantom pains from old wounds have no place in the now and deriving all the pleasure she can find in still being alive, in pleasure /and/ pain.
Setting her bangs to swinging she viciously shakes her head trying to clear the cobwebs and making the wavering her vision was doing even worse by result. This wall was too high! She sets her feet and cocks her arm back only to start pushing against the palm of the monsterous taloned hand while rushing down back toward Jedah, her broken hand slick with blood and pushing against the torn up mess that was supporting the disjointed limb she runs him down intent on pulling free or dragging his own limb all the way back toward him.
Spinning on her heel at the last moment she sweeps at the ankles with a low spinning kick and continues the twirl into the up swinging soccer style kick to spike her opponent into the air and hang them there for the coupe-de-grace in which would be a leap and transition into the guillotine kick meant to break her opponents in half, an illegal move intended to kill. It was the one her instructor had tried to forbid her ever using; at least on human opponents.
COMBATSYS: Juri can no longer fight.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Jedah 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Jedah fails to interrupt Kaisen Dankairaku Limited from Juri with San - Passare.
- Power fail! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Jedah 0/-------/----===|
The vampire lord had been told to remain on standby, for his services would be needed for an extended period of time. He was still frustrated at being pressed into service during the time Majigen played host to the inhabitants, and indeed, the entirety of Metro City. But really, at his extended age, being asked to do -anything- by the upstart Black Messiah was irksome at best -- how -old- is that pup, anyway, five or six centuries at best? A mere child, giving him orders...
And yet, the regal bat waits in the wings, watching the confrontation with a disaffected lack of concern -- whatever happens, it's sure to be loathsome and, most criminal of all, boring.
Lord Dohma had anticipated that the taekwondoka would not just roll over and -accept- having her arm wrenched off. He didn't launch into the attack expecting to break her hand, though -- her sudden shift of motion accomplished that. The bloodweaver's control over the limb falters as the Korean spins about, the appendage obeying gravity once more -- as much as Juri -allows- it to, anyway. While he would naturally move to draw the limb back to himself, it seems Juri has other ideas -- and these are not entirely unexpected either.
What -is- unexpected is that Juri has the energy to press even further, to barter her continued well-being (such as it were) against the need to rest. While it's true that Juri may be approaching this fight with a life-or-death mentality, the fact that Jedah never intended 'death' as a consequence means he isn't considering Juri to take it seriously either -- a costly mistake on his part.
Juri will likely enjoy seeing the whites of Jedah's eyes as he takes a halting step backwards from the charge. She may even take solace in noting that his hand -- the one she carries with her -- suddenly writhes into action once again, lurching for her throat. If not for her quick thinking, that hand would have lashed out and kept her at a considerable distance, leaving Jedah safe from what she's about to do next.
Varujan, the elder vampire, had been watching all along, lurking in the shadows of the coliseum. He was quite familiar with Jedah's unconventional approach to teaching -- the Black Messiah's abuse of reanimated corpses seems to be a dead-end line of research in his opinion. In a way, the old bat was rooting for Juri. So it pleases him to see Juri slam her foot into Lord Dohma one time after another; it tickles his fancy to see Jedah's brittle spine crumple like a cardboard tube under each successive attack, broken rib bones protruding through the demon noble's attire. The bat's salt-and-pepper visage even reflects Varujan's humanoid guise, but for one significant change: It's smiling.
With a sickly wet spurt and loud whump, Jedah's body hits the floor. The floor spatters with the arterial flow from the stump of a neck -- his head having been dislodged in the sudden guillotine kick. The head itself tumbles down the coliseum, its face frozen in a rictus of shock as it whirls about, the blonde locks and eyebrows frayed as it comes to a halting stop at a piece of scaffolding -- no doubt giving the workers above a small scare.
For a few delectable moments, the coliseum is silent, save for the sputtering blood upon the coliseum floor.
The headless body lurches about -- did gravity pull his shoulders back to the ground? Hardly -- the monstrosity plants a crimson-soaked hand to the stonework, pressing to its feet. The blood spurting forth frm the neck intensifies, not unlike a geyser, until a solid mass can be revealed within. As the flow ebbs away, Jedah's expressionless mask is brought to light.
The bloodweaver rubs his neck, fighting with every ounce of his being to keep from expressing any emotion at all, as he draws the bones back into his longcoat, the wounds sealing up behind themselves.
"Impressive..." he notes to Juri, "but ultimately futile." With an open palm, he gestures towards the disembodied head -- with its expression still frozen upon its face -- and with a clench of his hand, it erupts, whirling about into a tiny maelstrom of blood. The blood sprite rises into the air, hovering over to its master's shoulder like a dutiful spirit should, as his arms return to equivalent lengths, their severed edges pulsing red before resolving themselves into their typical colors.
"Force of will," Jedah explains, "can surmount any difficulty, as you aptly demonstrate." That's probably as close to a compliment as Juri's likely to get for now, as the bloodweaver is still absorbed in the process of undoing the damage dealt to him by the vicious attack.
Jedah steps closer to Juri, reaching forward to trace a gentle finger across her chin. "Allow me to reframe our conversation. You are near death, child. And you shall join my battle thralls as a creature of the night."
The words hang in the still air for one, two... six heartbeats.
"Or."
A faint smile crosses Jedah's lips. "Or we seek vengeance together. Unstoppable."
From his high vantage point, the old bat Varujan snorts. 'Unstoppable,' boasts the brittle demon who'd let his head snap off. Arrogant whelp.
That delightful wet snap and meaty thud as the opponents head separates from a misleadingly fragile seeming body under her final downward cleave; -- only for it bounce and roll away so while still wearing such an expression! It leaves Juri to so nearly be swallowed up whole by the rising swell of relief and ballooning (possibly blood-loss inspired) state of euphoria at the results of her assault. Her upper body cant's forward powerlessly with her arms dangling and head lolling forward with its own weight barely supported and hair spilling over her shoulders still matted and greasy with blood and grime.
She would have thrown her head back and triumphantly laughed if she were capable at the moment; with all that she has left she's barely capable of standing, knees locked and spine stiffened it's all she can do to keep herself from falling to the floor.
As the seconds tick by she contents herself just physically gasping for breath to feed her oxygen starved and drained body and relishing the feelings of so brutal and visceral a victory; trying to hang onto and bathe in them for as long as possible without letting go of consciousness.
The corpse spasms on the ground drawing her full attention as for some reason the fountaining blood loss suddenly intensifies and like any good horror film the figure/monster rises back to its feet while visibly shrugging off all visible signs she had done anything to it at all. Maybe she had inflicted some kind of damage, but then again... it appeared not.
His words are chilling, their weight heavy. She drops her head and line of sight to the ground at her feet, still struggling to recover any strength only to notice with fascination just much of her own precious blood was falling in steady drips all about her bare feet and similar a colour to her painted toenails. When she pushes herself back full upright it takes everything she has left to just square off with Jedah at her full height. It was irritating he was so much taller.
Eh? Force of will? What was he even trying to say? The fatigue was creeping up on her but she would genuinely have been confused by it anyway. It show's in the sceptical expression and faint quirk of the head, she didn't get what his angle was here but he had her on the ropes for the moment so all she could do was-
Tracing the line of her jaw and curling under her chin he lifts her head to look him in the eye and she is even more put off by the proximity to her opponent, her own lack of power and what feels an intimate moment of contact she can't make heads or tails of. Single violet eye widens in surprise at the gesture and duration of the touch but steels as he begins his ultimatum. Serve him? She'd rather chooses death but there might always be a chance later to twist the situation to her advantage. If she could ever tolerate just serving someone else.
It's right there in her eyes, she would probably choose to tell him where to go rather than choosing to serve and it's likely she was about to until the offer takes a new turn. She didn't like that he was smiling; it was enough that even in an exhausted and addled state she was skittish and wary; it didn't bode well but the terms were a lot better than servitude or death -followed by servitude-.
For now. It's more than enough.
"That's Fine... But you have to do something for me-"
It was presumptuous of her considering the position she was in but it was also something of a measure of how co-operative this relationship was.
"...No witnesses."
All this talk was exhausting and tedious but there it was! An unfathomably cold disregard for the lives of people who were interested or close enough to her to share in her dreams or ideals; for those who were sharing her bed. She doesn't even bother giving any of these men a second look, standing pliant yet poised while not shying away from the bloodweavers touch in the slightest she challenges his resolve in return.
How much did he want her and what for?
Juri says, "Munin=The only build It'd try to discourage is dodge/block/regen because it'd drag even a fight it was dominating out way too long with the low attacking power."
Looking down into Juri's eye, Lord Dohma can see the fire within. He knows that, given no alternative, she will resist him with her very last fiber, fighting like a trapped animal. Like an animal, she will seek out the route with the best chance of escape whenever it presents itself. And, also like an animal, she sacrifices her companions to the maw of the pursuing beasts in order to ensure success.
"No witnesses," repeats Jedah, pointedly looking up at the others in the room. "A shame, truly... I'd gone to such trouble to keep them alive on your behalf." he laments, folding his arms behind his back as he steps away from Juri. Even as he'd focused the lion's share of his attention upon Juri, the bloodlord had always been mindful of the gathered onlookers, watching the systematic takedown of the talented taekwondoka.
"While I may seem like an indiscriminate murderer, let me assure you that I strive to ensure that no death is meaningless..." He turns as he walks in a lazy circle about the room, his crimson eyes matching those of each and every person within the room. "Every voice... matters," intones the dulcet voice of the Italian nobleman, ever the charismatic showman.
His left hand raises, while the thumbnail of his right hand pierces the flesh. With casual grace, he pirouettes about, twirling until he faces Juri once again...
... spraying crimson in two dozen directions at once. It looks haphazard, as showy as if he was tossing rose petals to every point of the compass. But as the blood globules fly out, their form stabilizes into a perfect sphere, their momentum slowing as they approach the workers and associates gathered about. A perfect array, one ruddy globe for each individual.
"So turn, and bear witness. It is the very least you can do for the people who followed you blindly into their own demise."
Lord Dohma is patient. He will wait until she does so. This is the consequence for -demanding- a favor from the bloodlord.
Jedah rises up, gestures towards the MMA fighter who held fast by Juri's side at the beginning of the encounter. "Cherish the moment."
Without a single sign from Jedah, the bloody sphere violently transforms into a dagger. A finely tipped blade, it resembles the fine Italian craftsmanship of ages gone past -- or at least, it would, if it weren't completely embedded within the heart of the fighter standing before it. So sudden was the killing blow, that the fighter's scream is given voice only by those of the other workers gathered about, commisserating the agony. The fighter's twitching, shuddering body is lifted four feet into the air by the dagger, masterfully manipulated at a distance by the Bloodweaver.
Jedah's face is solemn, and neutral. If he gains pleasure from this, he makes no show of it, letting the emotions instead play upon the faces of Juri and her retinue. His hand sweeps to the right.
As the first dagger drinks up the fresh human blood, another sphere explodes, impaling itself upon a second, the spatter of blood matched only by the sickening crunch of ribs and ruptured cardiac walls.
The next person in line cannot take the suspense. He leaves the blood orb hovering right where it is, making a run for the nearest exit.
With a puff of smoke, the vampire lord Varujan appears before him, his impeccable salt-and-pepper hair gleaming in the intensity of the lights, one chiding eyebrow raised with disdain for the impertinence. With firm but compassionate hands, he catches the fleeing worker.
And shoves him backwards with almost no effort at all, impaling the worker onto the third Italian dagger.
Jedah makes no action to indicate that he's aware of the attempted flight -- but he -must- know, for he states, "I apologize, for there will be -one- other witness. Unavoidable, really." The blood spilled upon the first dagger balloons outwards, forming a bubble of sorts. The partially translucent orb takes on a purple hue as it grows, filling with a sort of lavender smoke -- the soul of the recently-slain.
As the wholesale murder continues around the room, it seems that everyone else is too busy moaning, shuddering, and/or crying out in grief to really attempt fleeing. Through it all, Jedah simply motions his hand, so that his intent is clear -- that each person knows when it's their turn.
It seems like a drawn-out eternity before the last body is impaled. As the body is still quivering on the dagger, Jedah's lips pull into a slight frown. "I am -fully- aware that, given the opportunity, you intend to betray me. And I forgive you." He folds his arms behind his back, as the blood sprites pull free of the bodies, letting the lifeless corpses fall to the ground like dominoes. The orbs begin moving towards Juri, slowly and deliberately. "I bear nothing but love for my disciples, so long as they show me the respect of the position. I am a man of compassion and reason. I have tolerated your scorn, magnanimously."
One of Jedah's eyebrows quirks high, before both are brought low in the near approximation of anger. "But I do sorely -loathe- to ask the same question twice. Let alone three times. Humor me... so that I may commence to remake you whole."
One would hope that Juri remembers the question, with the spirits of the recently-slain hovering at mere meters away, their disembodied faces barely visible within corupulent crimson shrouds, turning to her in judgment.
So? The way he repeats her request too loudly carries better than her voice is capable of right now, the audience itself on the edges of their seats seeing how this one was going to go. Juri wasn't good with faces and didn't much care for reading the subtleties that would maybe have given her more insight in how much consideration he was giving her request.
A regal regret or at least some kind of feigned sympathy for the masses like he was some kind of ancient compassionate Lord and law maker set to inspire the loyalty of 'The People.' His voice and theatrical performance present her with some kind of sense that he disapproved, that he had been doing something in her best interest. She wasn't ever really sure what to make of his character with those speeches such as had been televised and repeated for months after the atrocities committed during the 'Unholy Genesis' that tore Metro City apart in Jedah's name.
Inelegant seeming butchery and twisting of the cityscape coupled with blending it with a world full of savage beasts and monsters that prompted a struggle of survival of only the fittest and strongest, weaklings survived but still it was the more desperate or coldest of heart able to do what was necessary to survive; those who cowered together suffered the worst fates. She wasn't sure which world full of monsters had come out the better.
Here he thought he was doing her a favour preserving the lives of men who were fool enough to try using her because there interests aligned.. or because they were taking her money? Don't make me laugh old man! Nobody was actually on her side and she knew that fact intimately as it ran right down to her core, there was always an angle or something someone wanted in return... she just didn't know what Jedah's angle was yet.
At his -request- she turns her head glancing over toward her 'fool' just before the dagger strikes, the MMA fighter; he was the only one close enough to her for her to make out under the arena flooding and bombarding lighting as she was; Juri holds his surprised and disbelieving gaze as the blood formed blade strikes home and continues to watch as the dagger lifts his still dying body into the air. She wanted this, asked for it in fact! As such she keeps her face blank throughout the display rather than give away any indication of her thoughts now she's actually being given what she wished for.
The bubble itself is fascinating and holds much of her attention rather than the further loss of life going on all around and overhead, it was rather a pretty colour and definitely first seeing something even remotely akin to it. She doesn't bother tearing her gaze from that first globe until Jedah begins to speak, the cries of the dying had reached and played about in her ears so she was aware of the slaughter but she couldn't follow the players, merely the tune of this waltz.
What he said nextc He _expected_ her to betray him? And then further still he _FORGIVES_ her? Her jaw hangs open and slack, lips parting with this revelation that leaves her completely stunned. He really figured on her betraying him and to top it all off he was talking about his disciples and loving them? Stupefied she works her mouth wordlessly and just never quite gets around to saying anything before she closes it again firmly. She lifts her free arm with one remaining good hand to fold it across her abdomen and put pressure on one of the wounds in her side rather than back talking or asking any number of the questions she might want answers to. She doesn't and can't respect his position, far from it in every regard since she didn't even know what he claimed to hold or who he really was but at least she was on the back foot and unsure of herself enough to choose remaining silent rather than challenging him on it.
Now suspended around her in various fashion and distances the globes of blood stare down at her with faces that tickle at the edges of her mind that maybe she might or should recognize them, one face better than most but she shows little regard for them. It was more a worry that they and that blood and souls could be used as weapons against her than their presence would force her to succumb to one time peer-pressure. They weren't even her 'peers' to begin with!
"Huah... who put out my eye? That depends how philosophical you want to dig into the question. A nameless man with an assault rifle? The escort who couldn't protect us? Maybe the entire group that carried out the attack."
The target marked for the attack who chose to take his family with him.
"Or.. Maybe the one who gave the orders."
There was pause for breath and contemplation, it was an old list sometimes revisited, a -long- list of people to hate hold a grudge against containing whomever could have caused the chain of events that lead to that day. But, it's one she had already chased down to its conclusion years ago when she tried killing -him- by herself, once upon a time. She'd been younger, much more naive.
"Which would be Vega, of Shadaloo."
Pale lips quirk up in a half smile getting that off her chest at the same time she expects Jedah to maybe start backing down or renege on their 'deal' with that little tidbit. She had decided that her little group of friends would have to meet with an accident the minute Jedah was damn fool enough to spill her full name where it would undoubtedly get back to Shadaloo, She didn't have the power to take Shadaloo head on; Not even close.
Bad things happened to those who challenged Shadaloo or Vega and then had bad fortune enough to fall but also survive that failure. That /was/ worse than death because they ensured that it was.
Jedah is not fooled by a blank expression. He can expect that Juri is happy from the deaths -- she did, in fact, -ask- for them after all. But moreover, the bloodweaver is intimately attuned to the flow of blood within Juri's veins, the quickened rate of flow that suggests that the sadistic taekwondoka actually enjoys this process. More power to her, concedes Jedah to himself. But, as with all bargains with the Black Messiah, the deal may come back to haunt her.
As Juri dances around the question, a somewhat irritated Jedah exchanges a look with the vampire lord Varujan when it is convenient to them. The look of contempt shared between them is just further commisseration on the short-sightedness of the human way of thinking. Teenagers. Pah! But the glance does not last for long; the Black Messiah is willing to allow Juri to believe that her stalling holds sway over him. It would not be a cooperative effort if he did not allow her to believe herself equal, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
Vega, of Shadaloo. She finally states the name that he'd suspected. His eyebrows return to their neutral position, the barest hint of a smile crossing his lips.
He does not shy away from the target, shows no signs of reneging on the deal. Anything but. "You want to defeat Vega. By yourself, no doubt." He gestures with an open hand to the bloody orbs surrounding Juri as he continues, "Improving yourself, at any cost, for this grand retribution." The fact that lives were lost is a statement that doesn't bear further mention, it would seem.
Jedah raises a hand to his temple, massaging his forehead as he begins to consider. His smile grows to an increasingly condescending angle. "... Killing the weak keeps you soft, and more damningly, smug." But as he smiles, the orbs begin moving again. Each orb returns to the lifeless husk of a body from whence they last came -- and as Jedah lowers his hand, all the orbs splash down into the floor, coating the bodies in crimson, leaving the diaphanous spirits within hovering overhead.
A moment passes. The blood-soaked bodies appear to melt -into- the floor. Corpse-shaped puddles are left behind, and the disembodied spirits appear to fall within the unnatural gravity as well, disappearing from view. The blood itself... seems to be drawn into a spatial anomaly, disappearing entire from view.
All except for one, that is: the fighter Juri had been staring at most intently. His spirit hovers over the spot where his body was drawn inexorably into the pool of blood, but finds the floor to be impenetrably rigid. As it stares dumbfounded at the floor, Jedah intones, "You will not escape your past so -cleanly-, Juri Han." He rests a blood-slicked hand on her shoulder, damp, sticky, and hot. It's not a greeting.
And then all of a sudden, she will see nothing but red, as she is enveloped in a sticky, viscous bubble. Blood floods throughout the bubble, coating her throat and threatening to fill her lungs. But what's more -- the blood itself is bubbling, practically -boiling- with heat. Blood vessels that had begun to clot, wounds that had begun to seal -- all are broken apart, split open by the intense pressure. Juri's body feels like it would split apart, if not held together by the now-impermeable membrane.
It takes ten seconds, but it feels like ten minutes of excruciating agony. From the powerful roar against Juri's eardrums, she might not realize it's over until hearing the sound of hollow, brittle rods hitting the blood-spattered floor: the bones of the zombies that had impaled themselves within her, now extricated. The bubble has popped. And Juri's wounds are resealed, cauterized; the blood vessels and sinew knitted back together with the dexterity of a master surgeon. It's hard to tell whether the blood coagulating on her flesh is her own or that of the bloodweaver, but while her clothes may be ruined from the clash with the zombies, her body will be whole again in a matter of days rather than weeks.
Jedah's crimson irises open once more, their pupils growing as they adjust once again to the light.
Varujan and the MMA fighter's spirit are gone, nothing left in their space.
Jedah pulls his hand away from Juri's shoulder, shruggling mildly. "Understand, child, that if I thought as you do... your light would have been extinguished for sheer insolence. Despise me for my kindness, if you must." Jedah's lips turn to a leering smile. "But... I have use for you. For now."
Razor-sharp wings sprout once again from Jedah's back, and he lifts off from the ground again. Hovering one foot above it, he folds his arms before him. He states simply, with an incline of his head: "Round two begins in three days." Ominous, perhaps -- but Juri should know that the bloody thaumaturge intends to keep his promise, even as blood drips from his feet into a pool beneath him. Considering the bloodweaver's abilities, it should become clear that their time together is nearly at an end. "Please be prepared to put your best foot forward. This is for your benefit, after all."
A cruel smile plays across his lips as he adds one more word: "... Mostly."
Responding to Jedah's words the dainty little taekwondoka screws her eyes shut against the deluge of words. Lips contorted in a twisted grimace in response to this frank assessment of who she was and what her goals were and amounted to. It was unfathomably hard to endure all this! -- condescension!! Was he even intent on lecturing or was it all some form of ridicule? But -- when it comes to him calling her 'smug' in that tone of voice she reciprocates the provocation by easing her eyes open and taking a step forward.
The move is too much for her current condition and she flinches, grinding to a halt which interrupts her glaring match. When the pain finally begins receding she finds herself staring into the chest of the bloodweaver at arm's length, said arm clasping her shoulder and she's unsure if it's to steady her, or--
You! What does he mean by that escaping her past?
The Creep of the blood from her shoulder across her bare skin and up her neck toward her face at the same time as a bubble of the vile red crap surrounds and suddenly ensnares her, completely enveloped in a sphere of red, roiling and filling with even more blood like he intended on drowning her in it -- Literally trapped, his jape about 'escaping' her past now seems vindictive. While the heat from the lights had been one thing this was orders of magnitude worse, was it boiling? He intended to cook her alive!?
"You SON OF A-"
Her expletive, and possibly subsequent screaming immediately and literally choked off as the pressure and amount of blood escalates and it closes in all around her, driving air out of her lungs and tearing her wounds open with the pressure, shards of bone torn free of her body whirls about in the maelstrom of blood while she contorts and writhes with the worst of the pains. By the time it's over- the bubble burst; she's left gasping for breath, vomiting out a torso full of iron tasting fluid and still trembling in response to the pain and convulsions, but as her face comes back up that baleful eye is fixed and murderous on her tormentor; she could kill him!! Ten thousand deaths weren't enough to pay him back for that -- but her body moves some in response to her effort and for the first time she notes the return to form.
She wasn't one-hundred percent, but she was probably in less danger of bleeding out, and with all those bones spines and splinters out.. less chance of an infection or a fever slowing her down. Not too bad. Flexing her limbs she also makes a point of working her neck side to side and standing up straighter. She's exploring her favourite topic for just a moment after this semi-miraculous healing, that topic being herself and just how she was feeling right at the moment.
Juri must look a fright with the still fresh steaming blood coating her skin and soaking into her baggily heavy and shredded pants. There was just something about Majigen and its occupants that seemed to wind up with her coated with viscous and sticky blood, or honey, or tied up by steely spider webbing every time she even vaguely entered or encountered someone from it. It was kind of perverse but definitely starting to seem like a noticeable trend.
yeah, if he thought like she did he would definitely kill her right here and now. But there was a kind of clarity and acceptance of what was being transmitted and made clear to her, he was a huge monster; She was quite free to try tearing him down, he expected her to try to. She just 'had to be polite of show respect' and it's that aspect that she latches onto as she hurls part of his benevolence back in his face.
"Geezer. Could you stop blathering already? I came here to play, As long as you keep me happy that's all that I need."
Lips peel back into a sinister smile showing far too much of her teeth and the fact they're tinged pink with blood. She was grateful for the timeframe he'd delivered in his speech and not particularly concerned or curious as to what he had planned. Maybe she had been in a slump, it was something to look forward to, and construction was such a bore that took so very long to yield any results. It might be fun to have a mystery date for an unknown activity.
"Three day'sc then"
She repeated back the only part of his speech that really seemed to resonate with her, three days until the mystery date! And she wouldn't or wouldn't co-operate when she saw just how fun the activities that were planned out might be. It was the scale by which she judged nearly everything she did.
Responding to Jedah's words the dainty little taekwondoka screws her eyes shut against the deluge of words. Lips contorted in a twisted grimace in response to this frank assessment of who she was and what her goals were and amounted to. It was unfathomably hard to endure all this! -- condescension!! Was he even intent on lecturing or was it all some form of ridicule? But -- when it comes to him calling her 'smug' in that tone of voice she reciprocates the provocation by easing her eyes open and taking a step forward.
The move is too much for her current condition and she flinches, grinding to a halt which interrupts her glaring match. When the pain finally begins receding she finds herself staring into the chest of the bloodweaver at arm's length, said arm clasping her shoulder and she's unsure if it's to steady her, or--
You!? What does he mean by that escaping her past?
The Creep of the blood from her shoulder across her bare skin and up her neck toward her face at the same time as a bubble of the vile red crap surrounds and suddenly ensnares her, completely enveloped in a sphere of red, roiling and filling with even more blood like he intended on drowning her in it -- Literally trapped, his jape about 'escaping' her past now seems vindictive. While the heat from the lights had been one thing this was orders of magnitude worse, was it boiling? He intended to cook her alive!?
"You SON OF A-"
Her expletive, and possibly subsequent screaming immediately and literally choked off as the pressure and amount of blood escalates and it closes in all around her, driving air out of her lungs and tearing her wounds open with the pressure, shards of bone torn free of her body whirls about in the maelstrom of blood while she contorts and writhes with the worst of the pains. By the time it's over- the bubble burst; she's left gasping for breath, vomiting out a torso full of iron tasting fluid and still trembling in response to the pain and convulsions, but as her face comes back up that baleful eye is fixed and murderous on her tormentor; she could kill him!! Ten thousand deaths weren't enough to pay him back for that -- but her body moves some in response to her effort and for the first time she notes the return to form.
She wasn't one-hundred percent, but she was probably in less danger of bleeding out, and with all those bones spines and splinters out.. less chance of an infection or a fever slowing her down. Not too bad. Flexing her limbs she also makes a point of working her neck side to side and standing up straighter. She's exploring her favourite topic for just a moment after this semi-miraculous healing, that topic being herself and just how she was feeling right at the moment.
Juri must look a fright with the still fresh steaming blood coating her skin and soaking into her baggily heavy and shredded pants. There was just something about Majigen and its occupants that seemed to wind up with her coated with viscous and sticky blood, or honey, or tied up by steely spider webbing every time she even vaguely entered or encountered someone from it. It was kind of perverse but definitely starting to seem like a noticeable trend.
Yeah, if he thought like she did he would definitely kill her right here and now. But there was a kind of clarity and acceptance of what was being transmitted and made clear to her, he was a huge monster; She was quite free to try tearing him down, he expected her to try to. She just 'had to be polite of show respect' and it's that aspect that she latches onto as she hurls part of his benevolence back in his face.
"Geezer. Could you stop blathering already? I came here to play, As long as you keep me happy that's all that I need."
Lips peel back into a sinister smile showing far too much of her teeth and the fact they're tinged pink with blood. She was grateful for the timeframe he'd delivered in his speech and not particularly concerned or curious as to what he had planned. Maybe she had been in a slump, it was something to look forward to, and construction was such a bore that took so very long to yield any results. It might be fun to have a mystery date for an unknown activity.
"Three day's... then"
She repeated back the only part of his speech that really seemed to resonate with her, three days until the mystery date! And she wouldn't or wouldn't co-operate when she saw just how fun the activities that were planned out might be. It was the scale by which she judged nearly everything she did.
The centuries-old bloodweaver sees in Juri a petulant child who eats nothing but sweets, stays up way past her bedtime, and pitches a violent fit whenever she doesn't get her way. And, having been born in a time in which corporal punishment was most definitely the preferred method of child-rearing, Jedah took corrective action.
Just look at that smile. What a well-mannered child she's become.
The negative connotation of the word "blathering" does bring about a twitch to one of the Black Messiah's blonde eyebrows. But a good parent would be remiss to discard the entire statement as meaningless: the fact is, she recognizes her limitations, and how much power the bloodweaver truly holds over her.
"I am glad," is his concise reply, acknowledging in turn her polite request to STFU. With a warm smile, his wings flap lightly, elevating him one foot higher into the air.
"We shall bring many playmates for you in the coming days. Though if you should need to contact us beforehand..."
Lord Dohma reaches into his lapel, withdrawing one slender business card: pristine white, with gilded writing in an elegant typeface. With a casual gesture, he flings the card at Juri, quite cognizant of the accomplished taekwondoka's abilities to catch the same.
Fio Tessitore, MD
Chief Medical Officer
Majigen
A voicemail number with a Metro City area code is provided, but no address. "Our resources will be at your disposal. I look forward to working with you."
And then, with elegant grace, Lord Dohma folds his wings close to his body, wrapping his arms close to him for a formal, if aerial, bow. "Until we meet again, milady." Only then does he allow gravity to take hold of him once again, as it pulls him into the pool of blood. With a mild splash, the mass of Jedah's body continues to fall until nothing more remains over the crimson surface. And then... the blood itself begins to seep into the fissure between realms as well.
In a few moments, there is nothing left but a faint, ruddy stain, easily dismissed in the dingy world beneath the Metro city streets.
It would seem that Juri has passed the interview process. Or, perhaps it is more of an adoption...?
There wasn't a vague hint of anything that had happened since she had arrived where she clearly approved of or found even remotely to have made her 'happy.' The work was behind schedule and thusly would be over budget. An unwelcome guest and then undead rot that were an unsatisfying opponent, the smell and mess alone were a massive turn off. In the confrontation with Jedah she'd discarded her pawns and game pieces, made sacrifices and fought to a point she really thought she was in danger of dying. All to reach a point she was right back where she began, accept an offer she can't really refuse or an alternative outcome she can't abide... between a rock and a hard place.
She /was/ still seething after that excruciating and invasive bathing in blood from who knows where! But she couldn't fault the results any in terms of what it had done for her wounds and how they weren't troubling her so much any longer, there was a serious concern that maybe she wasn't feeling so poorly because the blood loss wasn't so much a factor anymore. That was food for thought.
Newly sombre, warily and wisely cooling her head she expresses some measure of approval when the blood weaver actually deigns to reply so concisely, though what to make of a warm smile afterward? With the wingbeat she doesn't give an inch though still a little on the tense side, the memory of just how quickly that prison of blood had sprung up around her was still fresh in her mind.
The card she snags out of the air when dealt to her is already messed and splotchy with black stains that are running to red where it's made contact with her fresh coating of blood, still legible but instantly rendered into a sorry mess. The name on the card means nothing to her off the top of her head. Only the word 'Majigen' and wondering how it can have a voicemail primes and grabs her interest, she'd read it... then drops the hand to hang freely at her side where blood running down her arm sets to finishing the card off as it invariably begins soak deep into the cardboard and drip form the card itself. She didn't need the physical card itself any longer.
With his last message and the elegant bowe into flashy exit bringing closure to the encounter Juri remains standing in the same spot until the last of that disturbing portal of blood has seemingly bled itself away, alone in her former sanctuary and pet project, he hadn't taken his trash with him when he left. Zombie bits and pieces still littered the ground everywhere, someone would have to take a garbage bag and a hose to the place, whatever they must use for the smell?
Alone at last, Juri wheels herself around and heads back over in the direction she had originally arrived form, picking a half empty water bottle up off the ground she takes a seat, emptying the bottle over her grimy feet first and then finally her face and body until clearly empty she shakes and then tosses it away into the dark where it clatters away, the only real sound down here that wasn't hers or the electric's fizzing or light's humming. Rubbing at her face with her hands and spitting out a half mouthful of water she remains sitting, hands rubbing her face. In reality she was trying to conceal the giddy yet sinister smile that had been trying to creep across her face for the last minute or two.
His calling her Milady before he vanished was cheesy, she wasn't really the type anyone would call milady or lady, not anymore. But he had promised her targets and playmates, he had grand plans and designs he was intent on working her at least into something where he could make use of her. For certain.
"Our resources will be at your disposal. Was it?"
He had been right! Jedah or herself, in his place -definitely- should have killed her; instead he had given her a really fun idea and just the kind of push she needed to run with it.
Log created on 20:36:50 08/23/2015 by Jedah, and last modified on 23:40:58 10/05/2015.