Description: Blackjack's newest recruit has been doing very well in the Seventh Circle. Well enough for the top-most echelons to take notice of her performance. It was inevitable that the Devil of Koga would desire meeting with the new blood and getting her measure. Did Ayame believe she could keep her secrets hidden from eyes that stare into the truth of her soul? Desires revealed and a possible future unveiled..
Business is good.
That's much more than the Devil thought she would be saying a few months ago.
It says much for the business acumen of Miss Belmounte that Blackjack managed to exit Jinchuu in a far better fiscal position than it entered. No thanks to Marise. While Elle had brokered the deal with Rugal, it was Marise that had pushed the Rock Tyrant at every turn to commandeer that ship. In the end, the financial backing of 'R' was enough to sway Elle's mind.
The Devil almost had that ship. Almost. And with it...
...Well. The world is a much safer place now.
With the Devil's ambition up in smoke, she had not expected Blackjack to bounce back so easily. Nor did she expect Elle to take the failure with anything resembling a calm stride. It was the second most trying moment of Marise's existence since her return from the dark.
What was the first? Well. We do not speak of that.
The second is far more popularly vocalized. Elle went back to work without another word, immediately investing into Capital 7. The rest.. As they say.. is history.
Now? Marise finds herself in a situation that could not be more diametrically opposed to where she was last seen in person. Screaming in anguish on the deck of the Black Noah.
The Devil's suite at the Casino is nothing short of royalty. Tinted windows encompassing the entire far wall overlooks the magnificent Metro City skyline, glittering like a thousand glowing jewels upon the black landscape beyond. The furnishings are only of the finest craftsmanship, most imported from Japan. An office area resides in one section towards the entrance, with sprawling living accommodations with sofas, chairs and massive LCDs hanging from the ceiling. Many of which replaying matches from earlier in the day. An open fire pit faintly glows in the middle of the living area, providing a more natural heat to the vast room. A pair of spiralling staircases lead upwards to the level above.. doubtlessly a separate sleeping area.
This is, quite possibly, the most luxurious accommodation in the entire Casino.
And its sole occupant appears to be very content with her just rewards.
A beautiful porcelain basin is set near the window, yet in clear view of all of the massive wide-screen TV monitors. The water-filled hot tub quietly steams as its occupant soaks in the lightly perfumed liquid. Her bare form cloaked beneath a glaze of foam on the water's surface.. exposed to nearly scandalous levels under the neckline with her creamy pale arms casually draped along the sides of the vessel. The Devil is attended by no less than three servants. Each of them clearly Japanese in descent and toothsome in form, themselves. The simply dressed attendants are busying themselves with varying chores. One of which carefully massaging Marise's feet, which are resting comfortably over the far edge of the porcelain vessel. Another is expertly massaging her shoulders and neckline with the third busying himself by meticulously caring for the Devil Ninja's incredibly long hair. Her Rapunzel-length tresses streaming behind the tub, curled around the clean floor as a spilled ocean of black silk, the attendant combing and washing every inch with exacting detail.
Yes. Marise has been finding life to be exceptionally good of late.
Golden eyes absently watch the last match between Sergio and Ayame unfold upon the nearest wide-screen. Re-watching for perhaps the fifth time, just to refresh her memory. Recordings of the Seventh Circle are -never- sold. No, the only place one can witness this carnage.. is coming to the event one's self. Not only for security reasons but also as a rather cunning marketing ploy as well. No, being able to watch these matches repeatedly is a privilege for Blackjack's upper management alone.
"Satsuko-sama." A calm, charming voice intones from a nearby speaker phone. Marise's attention never waivers from the screen even as she replies, "Mmm..Yesss?"
"Ayame-san has arrived as you requested, Satsuko-sama."
"Aaaaah.." The Devil breathe
"Aaaaah.." The Devil breathes, "Send her in."
While Ayame has a simple room at the Casino, she's not often in it. Training down in the arena during off hours, fighting in the arena during on hours, and recovering under medical supervision from injuries sustained in her fights... coupled with being out on the town causing trouble in Metro in general, what does she need with a normal room anyway? As it turns out, she often spends time tinkering with her computer, sharpening her knives, mixing up another batch of her own nerve agent that she coats some of her smaller weapons with... Which is how she happens to be around when Marise called for her.
Let into the room, the strawberry-blonde's expression is practically inscrutable. Brown eyes glance around the lavish accommodations without any reservation. Mentally inventorying the room, as if tallying up the value of everything she sees. The price tag is... well, it's a good thing she has no trouble with large-number arithmetic in her head. Heh. Business must be good, she thinks to herself. But who's the one paying the price?
The teen fighter steps across the lush carpet with heavy, thick soled Doc Martin boots. Her attire, in stark contrast with the very exquisite tastes of the room, is rebellious to put it mildly. A red and black plaid short skirt with a chain belt hanging loosely at an angle over her hips. A white form fitting top cut low with two black straps extending up to meet a small spiked collar around her neck is partially covered by a waist-length black studded leather jacket. From her collar hangs a thin chain with a small padlock linking a second chain that runs down the front of her to clasp to a second belt at her waist. Everything about her screams that this is the girl proper boys' mothers warn them about.
With much of her waist left visible, it's easy to see the rope burns criss-crossing the surface of her skin, the result of having been snared by a particularly potent attack of Sergio's. Her strawberry-blonde, once always left to hang mostly free but for a black hair ribbon, has been tied back into a pony tail in order to better conceal the damage Aranha did to it when he had her pinned to the arena platform a week ago. Her mostly bare legs and arms are covered with nicks and scrapes from numerous close calls in her many matches.
So here she is to meet the woman who runs the twisted circus show downstairs, Ayame muses coolly. She certainly seems to be enjoying the proceeds of the events. She enters without saying a word, following the lead of the attendant as far as she is intended to and no further.
Business is indeed good. Perhaps in no small part because of the rebellious teenager that strolls escorted into the vast room.
At once the differences between Elle and her often silent partner are as clear as night and day. Marise is not above indulgence.
"Ayame-san is here to see you, Satsuko-sama." The small, polite attendant bows with utmost respect and formality. Impeccably dressed in sharp business attire with exacting manner.
he Devil simply waves a hand lightly, hardly stirring her arm above the wrist. A simple enough command as the attendant bows once more and exits with rehearsed and careful movements. Her voice is reserved only for the one who matters, "Aaaaah.. A pleasure to meet you at last, girl.." Marise whispers in a low tone. The decadent creature's voice seems to slither through the air, coiling its way through the girl's hearing, "Miss Elle speaks highly of you. Not inconsiderable praise at that." Eyelashes lifting as she tilts her head to face the younger girl fully.
Those eyes.. Golden orbs with black slits. They're real. Impossible, but real. Common sense would dictate some kind of cosmetic lens, and perhaps the less perceptive simply accept it as that. But there's something about that look.. the girl can feel that gaze sifting through her. Looking beneath her flesh and pouring through her blood.
"Come closer.. Girl.." The Devil murmurs quietly, lifting her index finger and curling inwards in a come-hither fashion. Her expression seems vaguely.. curious about something.
Marise's attendants continue with their business.. Not daring to pause unless specifically directed to. In fact, the tension they have in their movements is undeniable. To one who absorbs details like a sponge, it's broadcasted loud and clear.
With Elle.. She takes her time to know her people. To respect her people as long as they respect her.
With Marise..
Everyone is completely terrified of her.
The decor of the room defies even the more sizeable home Ayame has broken into over the last couple of years of life 'on the streets' and every moment she spends glancing around her she notices some other exorbitant detail. But when she's escorted to Marise, her attention seems to be fixed solely on the woman in the tub.
Oh sure, she's acutely aware of the demeanor of the staff serving her hand and foot. Nervous. At first she thinks they might just be overwhelmed by the wealth on display here. After all, if money is power then Marise is commanding... a lot of power. But when her reserved brown eyes meet the slitted yellow orbs of the Devil herself, Ayame begins to consider that it's more than just humble acquiescence that has them acting so.
She smiles as Marise mentions Elle and the praise that's been tossed her way. It seems like the polite thing to do. The instruction to come closer is given and Ayame does so, taking heavy footsteps to draw near. She can move stealthily when she wants to and when she's dressed for it... But the boots and the rattle of far too much metal in her attire makes it clear moving around quietly is the last thing on her mind at the moment.
Her expression wavers for a moment. A flicker of a scowl coupled with wariness. She's heard rumors of Marise. And while she doesn't believe in ghost stories... well. But it's gone, replaced with the impassive mask from before. Her mind iterates over what to say next, digging through books and movies until she pictures one that best matches this situation. The words come easily and the tone would be convincing to most even if in truth there isn't the slightest spec of sincerity behind them, "Elle's praise means a lot to me... Is there some manner in which this humble one might be of assistence to you?" the blonde asks, her head bowed, hands clasped together in front of her as she finally takes her eyes off of Marise's.
An act, but given all of the visual cues the lavish abode has to offer, she believes she's correctly selected the appropriate role to play here. Always giving people the face they want. That's Ayame.
As the young girl loudly ambles closer, approaching the rim of the basin, only then is there a sound of shifting water. Marise altering her position just so to better look upon this new Blackjack member with curious scrutiny. A hand lifts slowly, palm upwards. Long-nailed fingers splayed outwards as if expecting the girl to simply lean her chin down upon her grasp without so much as a word.
Although, as the blonde bows her head and offers that cordial statement.. The Devil's smile splits into a supremely amused grin. Laughter slowly rolling from her throat until she erupts into a full-blown cackle!
"Well played, precious! Well played!" Marise's teasing voice finally intones as she mirthfully points a clawed fingertip downwards, "The boots and the padlock make your performance a hard sell.. It was a good try, very good. Had you done a little more homework perhaps you would have had me, dear. You, however, are in the unenviable position of having homework done upon already."
Gesturing idly to the wide screen lingering before them, specifically paused where Ayame is in mid-taunt of an opponent in the pit.
The Devil resettles within her tub, recrossing her legs leisurely as her masseur adapts to the shifting target quickly. Her wicked eyes appraise the girl anew as she continues, "You are quick minded. Intelligent. Adaptive. For once.. It seems I agree with Miss Elle's recruiting judgement." The woman does sniff curiously a moment, her eyes narrowing a fraction, "...If only you did not have the lingering stench of Shinto I would call you perfection." Plush lips pouting slowly at this.
She wasn't really sure what to expect from the woman, to be honest. Probably some deriding, stuffy comments. Wealth is on display in abundance here and Ayame knows just the types to flaunt it. They think they're better than everyone and are happy to prove it in the way they speak and act toward others. Ayame just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible... What she DIDN'T expect was the laughter though. Was her act that bad?
Surprised eyes glance up toward Marise as her laughter picks up even further and then she begins to explain the problems with the attempt. Yeah, the clothing probably suggests anything but humility... Ayame's mouth quirks into the faintest traces of a smile. Information on Marise is hard to come by. Even her attention to details failed to come up with much about her during her employ in Blackjack thus far. She's been pretty accurately called on the little act.
Her eyes follow the gesture toward the screen. A snapshot of her typical arena persona in action. Haughty, sassy, sarcastic... Yeah, that's a lot closer to the real deal than any attempted display of implied servitude. She doesn't interrupt though, mouth caught in that tight lipped smile as the Devil mentions the attributes she appreciates in the new-hire. She belives they all describe her quite well...
But then the mention of her past and Ayame's eyes widen, visibly surprised, and this time it's no act. Her mouth starts to open. How does Marise know about her family life? She's done nothing but bury that existence every step she's taken since running away. Never called home, never even gone near the old Ichigo shrine, never used her legal name of Aya Ichigo even once. "How could you possibly-" she starts, mouth twitching, right hand coming up in a fist, jostling the metal chain hanging down the front of her. But she cuts herself off, a rare display of control, though her eyes make it clear that while her expression seems to have recovered from the surprise her mind is still reeling over it.
What data does Marise have on her? Does she know who her parents are? Is she going to hold that as some kind of blackmail over her? Does the information reside somewhere where she can hack it and get rid of it? Countless questions and no answers as she gazes at the woman with the long ebony tresses.
The world is not as logical and mathematical as some dream it to be.
To be certain, Marise entertains strict obedience from her lessers. Meaningless insects had best stay silent and stay attentive to the Devil's whims. From those she could call closer associates? Accomplices? Business partners? Those are afforded somewhat more freedom in their manner and attitude.
Everyone lies. Nobody is honest with themselves, let alone each other. The singular difference between creatures such as Ayame and Marise, and the rest of the sheep at large? Devils know they do.
These three servants attending to Marise's whims? The Devil knows full well she's cursed and hated once she's out of earshot. She rather enjoys that fact. Not a word passes their lips that is not falsehood. 'Good luck' 'Pleasant day' 'Good bye'. Marise simply does not respect these lowly creatures anywhere near enough to bother calling them on that. She'll extract her pleasures from their performances and discard them like the hollow trash they are.
That Marise calls Ayame's act? It is a term of endearment. An offering of respect. A fellowship of predators in a world filled with slumbering prey.
As Ayame suddenly reels with shock, The Devil's grin slowly widen once more. Fangs glinting in the lighting. "How could I?" Marise murmurs, her tone playfully mimicking curiosity as she shifts again.
This time lifting from her position, stirring the contents of the heated pool as she leans forward. Waiving off the attendant at her shoulders as she glides forth through the opaque foam. Pressing now to the closer edge, crossing her arms over the rim the Devil looks up to the girl even more closely now. Her ebon locks long enough to still be in combing range far behind her, mostly sloughed to one side of the porcelain.
"You try to hide it.." Syllabant whispers sing-song, slithering through the atmosphere in a manner akin to the rising wisps of steam. Ever so casually Marise reaches forth again.. this time reaching for the girl's yet-injured right hand. Even through the waters, somehow this creature--deathly pale even with this heat--feels cool to the touch. The fallen Miko's palm slowly is faced upwards, "..You've done everything you can to forget.."
In a moment of complete surreality, Marise leans her head forth as her tongue extends past her beautiful lips... Reaching way too far than should be humanly possible.. Sliding over that partly-healed wound before slipping back behind those fangs, "...But I can still taste it in you.. See it inside you.. behind your eyes.."
Suddenly, Marise flinches in a moment of revulsion.. spitting to the side in a rather unlady-like manner, "To your credit.. You've almost transformed it into something else.." Golden eyes moving back to meet Ayame's own, "Is that what you desire, child? Hmmn?"
In truth, all of this display of avarice was mostly a facade. A test. Marise carefully measured out all of the valuable knick-knacks and tokens from this location to the door to be a proper reward for her good services once Ayame fences them off. While, Marise is certainly enjoying herself! She isn't taken to wanton acts of pampering, at least not in front of prospective business partners who may try to use it against her.
This is about discovering what Ayame truly desires most.
With Elle.. its easy. Simple and clockwork. The others, as well, have their own needs and desires.. All of which carefully deduced already.
Ayame, the new addition that she is.. is one of the only puzzle pieces missing..
Ayame's feet are rooted to the floor. Instinct says to move, but even her normally unflappable, detatched mine is left struggling to fight back the sense of forboding that she feels from the woman soaking before her. So accurately she seems to know her. The past she's tried to cover up, the memories she would gladly forget were it not for the picture perfect recollections she can't ever seem to shake.
Her right hand, still numb with the nerve damage from before, is taken by Marise's grasp but Ayame doesn't recoil. Morbid facination enraptures her mind as her eyes stay fixated on the woman's golden irises. And then the taste is taken - a sampling of the blood that courses through her, albeit dead and old in the form of a scab. Not even Ayame can conceal her revulsion at the contact and the sight of the inhuman tongue, but still she makes no attempt to pull away.
Her Shinto upbringing. Her years in training as a miko. The lessons, the rituals, the customs, the prayers. Marise truely knows of them all? The ex-priestess's arm begins to tremble as she stares, pale faced, at the woman who can't possibly be human. The fanged grimace as she spits to the side... She had heard the rumors, but now she's seen for herself. The images that will never leave her mind.
"Yes," comes the answer without a second's hesitation to the carefully crafted question. "Those years... that part of my life.. it is irrelevant to me. What they were trying to make me into..." She scowls, looking away, her left hand hanging relaxed against her side. "I don't want anything to do with that. That life is dead. Myths and fairytales... I have no use for any of it."
Her left hand clenches white-knuckle tight as she looks toward the temptress once more, "I will become whoever I want - whatever it takes, whatever the cost. I'll make my own life. Carve my own way. That's what I want. That's what I desire."
Ironic that after all of those years denying those myths and fairytales..
..Only now Ayame finds one staring her in the face after forsaking that vocation.
The Devil has no love for that dogmatic, imperial foolishness. The fact that Ayame shares that poor opinion, the fact that she denounces the very thing she was once groomed to be?
Oooooh, now that just tickles Marise in all the right ways..
Clearly, something about the girl's words engages this ghostly creature as she slowly glides back and away. Arranging herself beneath the waterline back to where she began, giving her head a slight toss to flourish her cloak of silken strands behind her once more.
Marise had suspected there was something along those lines her in past. A shrine maiden's aura is quite distinctive, even as decayed and corroded as this one's. This is all the Devil needed to know. The source of that sacred stink that clung to the girl's presence. They can do business.. Yes, yes they can..
"Gooooood.." The ghost draws out the word, "You've done well to come to us, girl. Here.. You will wash away everything you once were to become what you've dreamed you could be.."
The Devil will make quite certain of that.
"Well then.." In yet another unexpected twist... Marise relents? The gorgeous woman reclines further now against her tub. Eyelids shuttering mercifully closed as that all-seeing gaze is finally hidden, "I am glad we got to know each other a little better, dear. I am eager to see your next match in the Circle.. Yess?" A soft chuckle, "You may go."
No ultimatums? No blackmail? No extortion or threats to expose Ayame's past life and use it against her? Perhaps the she doesn't know the full truth... Or perhaps she simply has no need to use that form of leverage yet. Ayame is everything she could hope for in a Blackjack member.
As is, Marise is clearly not watching any longer. Giving the girl ample opportunity to choose her own 'rewards' on the way out.
Giving her just what she desires most..
The woman falls back, sinking further beneath the foam covered water, leaving Ayame a little distance between the two of them for now. It would seem the woman has nothing to fear from this one. No hidden agenda. No sanctimonious, holy sort undercover to route out the evil that lurks within the faction. Just a girl who in the midst of trying to find her way lost the only one she ever had yet misses it not. She considers herself the master manipulator... how easly the table can be turned by one who has been 'in the trade' for decades longer.
2 Her head nods slightly at the promise of being able to grow to what she wants to be within the organization. Wealth. Power. Recognition. She's seen the idols the world worships as signs of success and she wants them all. Good. "I'm always ready," she remarks with regards to the Circle, the dark pit rapidly becoming her home as of late.
Given permission to depart, she bows her head slightly and takes a step backward. Customs, habits, traditions are difficult to shake and in the company of Marise the old ways seem more appropriate anyway. She's watching the woman, trying to discern how observant she's being. It seems not very observant at all. All the better.
She turns, the sound of chains shifting, lifting her hand to run it lightly along the surface of one of the many ornate tables on the way toward the exit. The motion is harmless enough. A lazy trace of a finger against the glassy surface... Unless one were exceptionally observant they would never know the jeweled figurine gone missing was ever there in the first place. And then she's gone.
Log created on 23:14:58 12/04/2007 by Marise, and last modified on 03:57:32 12/05/2007.