Description: Deceived and kidnapped, the scrappy urchin Shurui finds herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Bound and chained to a bed in the aftermath of her confrontation with Ayame. Those circumstances were bad enough, but they pale before the fate that lies in store for her. The budding psion learns that there are things that go bump in the night.. they are real.. and they have a name.
The blackness seems unrelenting. While time itself has lost meaning, its passage can still be vaguely felt.
Occasionally, consciousness pries at the surface of oblivion offering glimpses of sensation of the world beyond. The feeling of moving and being moved.. Strong hands and weightlessness. Fresh air followed by closeness. Bound and unbound.
Most recently of all.. In moments in between moments, a chill began to slither through flesh and bone. Not a simple coldness of air or wintry environ, but a stillness of spirit. A feeling of something.. unclean passing nearby, like a ghost shambling over one's grave.
Dark sensations that begin to invoke fanciful images, terrible dreams and wicked nightmares. Things coming closer.. things human beings were not meant to know.
Claws.. fangs.. closer and closer..
By the time the young tomboy realizes she's awake, she can feel the cooling sensation of sweat on her skin, the resounding ache of the combat in her body, and the remorseless sensation of chains on her limbs.
The cold shackles cling to her wrists and ankles, the solid steel chains they're linked to clink and clatter with renewed motion. Her wounds from battle have been tended to, relatively fresh bandaging applied to several regions upon her flesh. Her clothing replaced with a simple pair of pale green hospital wear. Pants and blouse. The bed she finds herself attached to is disheveled from recent struggling. Her chains have enough slack to permit some movement upon the bed, and perhaps a short distance beyond it.. but little further.
Most puzzling of all.. The girl finds herself in unfamiliar settings. The room looks suspiciously.. pleasant. Not unlike some manner of hotel room suite. The crimson embroidered drapes tightly closed over the windows, but the sound of some form of city beyond can certainly be heard. The soft lighting proves the most merciful aspect of this captivity, as it soothes what is proving to be a terrible headache.
Similarly.. it reveals that she is quite, as yet, alone..
She had lost the fight.
That was the last notion of thought that was left with Shurui before Ayame knocked her out with a well-placed whack to her arm. Since then.... darkness. Shurui has never had the tendency to have dreams, or else, they were dreams she had forgotten, for better or worse, as soon as she had gotten up. Yet here, she experiences such dreams, those things others called 'nightmares', those things she supposed she's had before, but never was able to explicitly remember.
Her vision is blurry. Well, blurrier than usual as her eyes clear themselves. Her arms hurt, her head hurts, her legs hurt, her whole body hurts. She's almost tempted to close her eyes once more, even if it meant returning to the nightmarish claws haunting her mind. Something hidden deep inside her, for some odd reason, dares to be more afraid of just what she'd open her eyes to. As if there was some notion that there could be something so much worse to be facing right at this moment.
Whatever her subsconscious was fearing, however, isn't what greets Shurui. Sure, it's bad: she's chained to a bed in unfamiliar hospital gown wear in a place she doesn't remotely recongize at all. However, aside from that, the surroundings are nicer than any place she's really stayed in before. She might have appreciated such a place, if it weren't for two things: that pounding headache going boomboomboom in her head, and... well...
.... the fact that she doesn't exactly appear to be free to leave.
Not even terribly free to roam. The circumstances of this awakening seem more than a little unsettling..
After all.. Cute girl in only a small dress.. chained to a bed in a mysterious hotel room?
No. Not the most promising of circumstances in the slightest.
While the details of the room remain obscured due to the girl's truncated vision, she can tell that she's yet alone. Nothing else living is clearly nearby..
...Even as the sound of a door creaking open.. Nothing living is entering the room.
The girl can feel it. That chill.. The familiarity dredged up from half-remembered nightmares that have yet to filter from the depths of her groggy mind. A coldness that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. The air itself takes on a dull, insensate quality. Sounds growing a fraction hollower, deepening the sound of her own heart beating in her chest.
As the door seems to open.. the blackness unveils itself to her.
She did not wake up. She's still within the realm of nightmare beyond the veils of oblivion. What stands before her now should not be. Never before has the girl's vision been as much of a curse to her as it is now.
A monster. A terrible, wicked thing.. Decrepit.. Hideous in all ways. Twisting crimson shapes like vermilion lightning racing amidst storm-clouds of roiling black, all within the vague outline of something human-like. A ..noise can be heard. An unclean distortion like the choir of Hell chanting all at once in the vague manner of a woman's voice, "Aaaah.. My my.."
A blackened, clawed hand pushes the door shut behind it. High above the slithering, distorting tendrils upon it's loathsome head part to reveal eyes.. Golden spheres that stare through the girl as clearly as she stares through it. Black-slitted things embedded haphazardly within a burned and ashen skull.. Filled with overly-long gleaming fangs.
You can still see bits of screaming people clinging to those teeth.. All through out this monster's body. Bits and pieces of other auras.. Torn-apart and half-digested to become a part of this.. Mass..
"..You're awake.. How lovely.."
$r She may be considered cute now, perhaps, all bandaged up and clean, but when she fought Ayame, Shurui looked more like a tattered gremblin: all teeth, spit, bile, and ire. While she kept good hygiene habits and was better than many teenagers her age about the cleanliness of her space, Shurui never did care too much about how she looked during a fight.
Especially when it's one where the stakes are high.
Just how high? *This* high. The door opens to an unearthly monstrousity, something built of stolen energies until they formed a forbidden patchwork over this monster's body. Shurui bites her tongue to cut her mouth from opening in a scream. Can't scream, can't be afraid, don't want to be afraid, have to keep in control-
And herein lies the reality of the situation, a reality that Shurui tries desperately to conceal: she is, in reality, only three years old. While the different circumstances, different chemistries, and implanted knowledge allowed her to excel far quicker than any three year old, there's always those things that invite the more primal of her instincts to come through. Namely: the fight or flight response. "........!!" The bedrest is grabbed, glasses skittering off from the sudden jerking as Shurui attempts to, against all common sense, throw a soft object at a being who could easily bat it aside. "...... Don't... come... any.... closer..."
Higher than Shurui could have possibly known.
That thieving girl seemed like quite the rapscallion. Tainted by corruption, perhaps, but nothing indicating she deals with monsters such as these.
A creature that, by all rights, should not exist. No sane world could have produced a being this.. unholy. The hideous thing moves with a slow, sineous grace. Slithering through the air with soundless, sauntering movements. Hellish, golden eyes affixed upon the girl as she pauses her approach only a moment as the pillow bounces harmlessly off of her voluminous front. The futile gesture earning a syllabant snicker of delight. Fangs and teeth glinting in a widening smile.
Hrm.. Nothing in Ayame's report suggested the girl was this jumpy. But then, the little thing is in the most dire of straights.
Even if she doesn't know the half of it..
"Adooorable.." The blackened thing creeps closer, looming over the girl's bedside as she slowly reaches forth with a withered claw. While the speed of the gesture is nonthreatening, by no means is it soothing. The only thing worse than witnessing this monster in her grotesque glory.. is letting it touch.
"..And you would be.. Shurui.. yesss?" The Devil's whisper slithers from her lips, trailed moments after by the tip of her tongue sliding across. A tongue that.. God Help Her.. seems almost to be covered in screaming little mouths..
The humble pillow serves its purpose- Shurui's kneejerk reaction, whether this was some sort of switch permanantly left on by NESTs or by virtue of her environment, was to fight. With nothing hard at hand, the pillow let Shurui let go of her inner fear and frustration. The idea that she's powerless. A pale hand fumbles for her shades, which Shurui puts on in order to block the influence of her third eye. Need to see the covering of this beast right now, rather than focus on the aura it contains...
Shurui is sure she could possibly use these chains to her advantage as well. If she can just plan her strategy well enough. Or if she can get up the will to actually take her chances getting that close.
That, or she can save this move for later, when and if someone weaker shows up. Yes, the little clone is jumpy. Possibly even dangerous to be around when put in this position, if Marise was of more normal stock. As experimental as Shurui was, NESTs' intent was to make a being who could be trained to be a useful soldier, using the DNA from the various samples that they had.
She isn't Marise, though, And, while her powers are stable, she still isn't as strong as other clones have proven themselves to be. "Yeah. What the fuck do you want with me?"
As those glasses veil the young girl's vision once more, hiding the truth from view.. The girl is treated then to the lie.
The woman hovering at the edge of the bed is nothing short of ravishing. Milky white skin, luxuriant ebon hair flowing over her shoulders. Silken kimono haphazardly clinging to truly generously gifted figure. She could be a caricature of feminine sensuality if it wasn't for those hellish golden eyes that still can be seen, even here with mortal vision. Hinting at the true monster lurking beneath her magnificent sheath of pearlescent skin.
Rarely has beauty even been so thoroughly disgusting.
"My my.." The Devil whispers with that bemused glint in those wicked eyes. Her slender hand reaches forth to touch the girl's chin, supple fingertips daring to guide her face upwards so the taller woman can get a better look at the rowdy little thing. Inspecting her in the manner one would inspect livestock, "..Such manners. What ever do they teach children in schools these days.. Khn hnn..."
With that, the monster straightens. Settling her hands upon her hips as her head tilts to the side, sending a wave of black silk sliding over her bare shoulder, "You, dear, are my guest for the foreseeable future. In a pique of generosity I've decided to give you a choice.." Her hand rising up to comb her long nail-tips through her hair, brushing the glistening mass back over her shoulder.
"If you refrain from hurling pillowcases and other assorted furnishings in my direction.. And," Lifting a fingertip, "... Likewise decide to be cooperative with me, I will allow you a modicum of comfort and dignity. Failing that.."
The Devil's hand flexes. Her razored nails suddenly extend a several inches as the sound of unsheathing steel screeches in the air. Holding those finger-knives aloft, the Devil muses as her eyes trail over the glistening purple edges, "I will remove your limbs and your lower jaw, feeding them to the alley cats below while making you watch.."
Golden eyes slide back to the girl without a hint of humor or bluff, "Either way. I will be entertained."
So.... disgusting. So fake. The deceptive covering makes the girl angry now, though not with envy. It's the overall fakeness, the mockery of nature that Marise presents in herself. The idea that people would probably so willing trust this lie, only to have their essence become a part of this devil woman.
Perhaps it may be the pot calling the kettle black, but Shurui has no notion of ever being a clone, or that clones even exist beyond sheep and cats.
As for the girl's looks herself? Yes, the pale skin is there, but hints of a sunburn long gone and various other defects make it no more a fantastical attribute than on anyone else. Her grey hair is interesting, but cut in the way that it is, Shurui doesn't seem to attempt any manner of making it be a mark of something exotic or mysterious. And her eyes? Dark brown. They don't glow with the intense fire of K''s own, or even denote anything special about her.
It appears, for all intents and purposes, Shurui goes out of her way to be forgettable, despite having qualities that make her stand out.
At the touch, Shurui jerks back, her breath almost registering as a hiss. "That's not enough information to convince me of whatever the fuck you want," Shurui spits angrily. "Alley cats at least don't try to act like something they're not."
And thats when Marise drives her nails through Shurui's arm.
The Devil does not flinch or hesitate. The moment spittle from the angry girl's lips touches the Devil's skin, she strikes without warning or pause. Elongated nails plunge into young flesh with such quickness that the motion doesn't even hurt.
At first.
More like a weird sensation of jolting force as time itself seems to stand-still. The horrific woman is now leaning over the edge of the bed, looming frighteningly close to the youth as her smile never fades.. precisely.. simply attains more of a forced tension beneath a pleasant demeanor.
"What I want.." The ghost muses in a patient, slow tone as the wound is starting to hurt now. "..Is for you to be a good girl.."
Really.. hurt now..
"..And do precisely what I say.."
A lot.
"When I say it.."
A whole very lot.
"Or I will make you hurt in ways that will make you wish I simply killed you."
Her fingers start to -twist-.
"Then I will rip what I want out of you.."
And twist more..
"..And then I will kill you."
And then the Devil's hand whips back. Nails now painted a glistening crimson.
Her expression downright cheerful as she beams, "Is there an understanding, Child?"
The cry that follows the instant those claws dig in is more from the shock of Marise's quick fingers, rather than any indication of pain. But pain *does* follow. A lot of it. So what follows is a wet cough, tears streaming down from her face as the girl is forced to listen to each horrible syllable of Marise's words. The pain... *god*....
The creature withdraws. The girl breathes, considering her options.
It's a convincing argument: be good, and there won't be pain. Be good, and you'll get out of this alive. Take a few orders, cooperate. Be a good little girl. She can do that, right?
'Your aura is not for others to define.'
Alma. For just a moment, someone who seemed so scary, so horribly pure that it made Shurui scared to be around him. Rose. She so wanted to meet the woman again, to possibly learn from her. K'. She wanted to become strong enough to fight him, to possibly befriend him despite the young man's horrible personality. Stasya- the Russian girl who invited to be her friend, who shared that craving for knowledge about the weird powers they both had.
Muda. Her adoptive father. A man, a high-ranking professor, who exiled himself from his own country to become a lowly immigrant selling Chinese imports. What would he think, to have her cave in at the first strike?
Alma's words again. 'Your colors are your own to choose.'
Alma's advice probably wasn't meant for this. Alma may have not intended anyone who managed to meet him to use his words as justification for withstanding needless torture. However, the fact stands: Shurui woke up in a hospital gown, chained to a bed, and her subsconscious is ringing all sorts of horrible bells that have *never* gone off before. It isn't just Marise that's scaring her. Shurui almost debates whether the pain is better than, quite possibly, allowing herself to become a part of this woman. Or possibly even coercing others to become a part of her in order to save her own hide. Or something else, as evidenced by the woman's appraising look moments earlier. Marise's aura might not be so literal; she could simply be one of the worst people to ever walk the earth.
Dignity. The idea of gaining it from an outside source was lost the moment she woke up in a wet dank alleyway like a piece of trash. She'll *make* her own dignity.
".... You didn't.... answer..... my fucking question. ..... What the hell.... do you want .... from me?" Her body shakes from the pain, but Shurui forces her eyes to make contact with the blurry sockets of Marise's own. 'Always attempt to find their eyes when making a point.' Muda, she's so sorry.
"Hnnnn.."
The Devil's smile evaporates so quickly its easy to forget it ever existed. Her exhale is a slow, wearied tone conveying whole worlds of impatience.
This is usually where cheeky children start shedding superfluous organs.
A cold, clammy hand is immediately around Shurui's throat in the wake of her verbal retort. Chilling fingers roughly squeeze the girl's slender neck as her other hand clamps upon the injury it created moments before. Choking fingers squeezing hard enough to force any resulting scream to stay bottled up within as the creature thrusts her face merely an inch or two away from the impudent little thing.
Under normal circumstances The Devil does not bluff. But these are not normal circumstances.
In truth, the girl holds something precious within her. A precious something that this monster has no clear idea how it works. Damaging her too much may ruin the very thing she requires from the girl. And.. What she possesses has a very .. limited selection.
Not that this horrible creature needs to let the girl in on that little fact. The ghost always prefers to deal from a position of strength. Bartering is for the weak and helpless, after all. She has no intention of insinuating that the girl is doing a 'favor' or that this little dialogue constitutes a 'conversation'. The wicked woman's usual method of exacting obedience has a limited application here.. As such, she might as well use .. alternative methods.
Something about honey verses vinegar.
"You have a power in you.. Girl. A power that I am most interested in understanding." The creature deigns to answer her question in a smooth, even tone. Only with those words spoken do her fingers loosen their grip to permit the girl both air.. and response.
A cheeky girl indeed, but again, when she found herself alone, wet, and nearly blind on the streets, Shurui had to develop such a skill to survive. Survive until that beautiful gift hidden inside her adapted to suit her will, and she could gain some ground and protect herself. This gift, unfortunately enough, is also the thing that attracts this devil woman to her.
Meanwhile, as far as that 'cheeky' side goes, it's still severely limited to the things Shurui does know, and works against her when she so desperately. She knows pain, she knows hardship, she knows hunger. She knows joy, the satisfaction of a meal well-done, and the idea that she has the freedom to do as she wants. Anything beyond these precious mundane facts of life is foreign, and what is foreign is scary and must be handled with care.
Marise is one of these things. And, right now, Shurui prefers being eaten by alley cats to her. Alley cats are creatures Shurui knows, leading lives almost parallel to hers in how they intermingle with society, yet still follow the calls of nature.
To pass out would be a welcome benefit to all of this, yet as those fingers clamp around Shurui's throat, her free hand clawing desperately at the demon woman and her drip with clenched fingers. Then, finally....
Precious air. Marise's words sink in as Shurui's upper body slumps against the bed, coughly with miserable force. She has a power. Something.... Marise wants.
There's a long pause. Then the girl rages. "....Wait, you kidnapped me for *that*?! You're putting me through fucking hell for something I have no clue about myself?" Shurui lets out a breath of air. "I *could* tell you what I know, but you'd better let me go then." Even if Shurui doesn't have many answers, she's sure as hell not trusting whatever Marise may do to find out more.
And as the girl finishes her raging retort, those fingers once again clamp firmly upon her neck.
Marise's eyes narrow to mere golden slits, dimly glowing within the shadows her luxurious bangs cast over her gorgeous face.
"You just did. Child." The wicked creature's smooth reply issues from her plush lips.
Perhaps, poor Shurui should have thought her words through a bit more carefully as 'I have no clue' was all the Devil needed to hear from her. What this imp knows is apparently irrelevant.
"The tale I require hearing.. Only your flesh is capable of telling, Little one." With that, The Devil simply shoves the girl back upon her bed. Discarding her like the gutter filth she once was.
A quick gesture, and Marise whips her hand outwards to the side. The abrupt motion cleans the blood from her nails, splattering crimson in a wide arc upon the previously pristine bedsheets and the hem of the captive's gown.
"I will go through you piece by piece until I discover how you work. It will be a long.. slow.. process. And perhaps.. Just perhaps.."
The Devil glides her way-too-long tongue over her sword-like index nail. Drying the last droplets of crimson from it's shimmering surface before the blade retracts into a merely well manicured nail, "If you amuse me.. The piece I will leave you in may be large enough to survive on its own. Now.."
The Devil then turns away from the girl, turning her back as she saunters towards the exit, "There are other.. new arrivals in this ward whom need.. tending to. I'll allow you awhile to ruminate on your ..situation. When I return.."
The Devil glances over her shoulder, malicious eyes communing fell promise, "..I trust you will make that right decision and be more.. helpful. Yes?"
The yelp is squeezed silent from Shurui's throat, Marise's words again allowed to sink in over the unlikely mediator of pain. Perhaps, Shurui should have thought her words out more. However, the rage, hope, fear, and pain lumping together in her gut overrides everything but the slight notion that Marise is bad.
So bad that cooperating with her could be worse in the long run.
Thrown to the bed, Shurui curls into a ball, gritting her teeth against the wash of pain and tears. "...." It's to the point of making her delirious. She hates Marise. She hates her, she hates this room, she hates this bed, she hates this outfit, she hates everything. It's rather easy for her to lapse into such an childish degree of emotion in this situation, but she has the sense of mind to at least keep it to herself.
5t Then, Marise's words hit her as sharply as those nails diud just moments ago.
5t There's..... others. What's.... going on?
The temptation to have the last word is there, but all Shurui can manage is cold silence. She'll give and take where she sees fit; she just may have to in order to wait for the moment of her escape. And she will escape. That's the only way she'll get out of this situation. .... But what can she do before that...?
Assuming the devil woman has left her, Shurui collapses against the bed she was thrown upon curling with one hand clamped over her still bleeding arm. Her mental mantra sounds off in her head, over and over: she has to count on myself, she has to get through this alone. She'll escape. She'll...
But what about the other prisoners...?
Her breathing is audible as she curls up on the bed, mentally and physically exhausted.
Log created on 00:44:29 02/22/2008 by Marise, and last modified on 02:07:18 03/06/2008.