Description: The times have not been kind to Amy. Little has been seen of the woman since there was the threat of Orochi, but rumors of a broken and possibly possessed woman had made it to the ears of Johann. A special visit is made as the Black Dragon Cult perhaps grows one member stronger.
There are many powerful forces in this world. Time and again, through the endlessly spiralling path of history they surface, creating only to destroy and to be in turn destroyed. But the insidious fingers of these legendary demi-gods can reach as deep into the human psyche as the mythologies they birth, possessing the weak and willful alike, begetting religion - and cult - or merely driving the touchèd faithful to despair.
For all their strength, no spirit can compare in majesty to that of merest man.
Those who stand against the darkness can prove most potent, but those who fall can become a travesty uncounterable and impossible to understand. It's a dangerous thing, to be vexed by borrowed power, to be assailed by very literal demons - particularly when those cruel creatures have departed the face of the earth. What remains is something at once less and more. Man made monster... at once tragic and terrifying to behold. A fallen angel that could never ascend, a devil yet to drop beneath the crust.
On the island nation of Siquijor, awash in the Philippines region, lies the Convent of Lazi. A quiet place of peaceful solitude, a haven for the orphaned and the lost of the nearby town, it has been afflicted these past few months by a visitation from one of these wretched souls. Washed up on the coast, the devout nuns found a bedraggled, raven-haired woman surrounded by a field of writhing mist. It took four to move her, so sodden and heavy was her broken form, and her struggles were intense; coupled with the ravings of a madbeast.
She has not been identified to the world outside, at least by name, but the news of her screaming night terrors has flown surprisingly far, perhaps buoyed by the displays of power that this shattered woman has regularly wrought - levelling a wing of the convent over a matter of several weeks, lashing out with fierce tendrils of energy that seemed to sprout from the very mists that surround her. More recently she has been calmed, confined in a first floor room overlooking the pleasant greenery of the island, but she lies for the most upon her bed, sweating as she reels off monologues that none completely understand. Clad only in the simple cloths that the convent has been able to provide, her hair overgrown and unkempt, the Knight Templar seems barely alive.
But the Dragon's Breath lives in her stead, battening at the doors in the night, streaming through the windows and over the roof as she dreams her frantic dreaming. Candles are lit outside the room - refreshed every few hours as they are snuffed by the dread fog, and the children of the convent have taken to praying alongside the nuns, warding off whatever demon it is they have in their midst...
Their own belief demands that they at least try to contain it. Humanity ever stands firm against evil.
Just how far has that story traveled? Well across the Philippines region and to a better part on the neighboring asian nations. Most just dismiss it as a woman gone mad. Of course the superstitious see it as some sort of strange sign. There have been many troubling times for awhile now and some even wonder if somehow this woman might be a sign of bad luck. Of course there are those that are curious and seem more intent on other things they hear. A woman like that should not be wasting away inside the walls of a convent. Not when there are so much more useful things for her to do.
The figure in question that has interest in this woman might be far worse than the demon they think they might already have on their hands. A monster that has slowly been growing stronger over the years that looks to those that are troubled and in need of guidance. Johann had been idly waiting for a proper time to visit and it seems he has finally decided it is time to grab what he wants.
It is dreadfully silent around the convent late at night. Faint footsteps can be heard through the halls and it seems that anyone who actually looks to see who just might be up at this hour become very unlucky indeed. It seems curiousity doesn't get the better of anyone and those steps can soon be heard out side of Amy's door before it starts to crack open. "Ahh, wake up. You have a visitor." comes a rather deep voice.
That voice belongs to a rather tallish man with red hair and a well trimmed goatee. He seems dressed in a well tailored black business suit with a red dress shirt. "Time to end this vacation, young lady. There are things to do." he says while giving a smile. It seems like a genuinely nice smile, but for some reason it can't help, but make one feel at unease. The figure stalks over closer and he smiles down at the bed as he looks at his prey.
If evil burns as hot as flame, then no wonder such taint attracts the fancy of a man like Johann...
Fire spreads, after all. In the same way as madness infects a mind, flaring across the surface until the totality burns, eating away at the infrastructure, tearing away at all that was once solid and sure, ripping and roaring until nothing remains but a blackened husk. So it is within the fragile psyche of Amy Johnson, who - as the convent sits otherwise still - thrashes atop the sheets, her hands clutched against her body, untrimmed fingernails digging into her flesh through cheap, torn cloth.
"By the coils that bind me, by the faith of my ebbing spirit, I implore you... I beg you..."
She mutters in her nocturnal fit, the Dragon's Breath liberally oozing about the frame of the bed, curling reaching tendrils toward the ceiling, licking against the walls and then curling back around to embrace the fallen knight-errant. It's the only thing left that she might find soothing, were she conscious enough to feel anything, wrapped in nightmare and wracked by visions of the past and future. As the mysterious figure pulls at her door, she gives a very audible whimper that rises to a warrior's unforgiving sneer. Her body kicks off the hard mattress, and she ends up sitting aright, oceanic gaze fixed upon the portal - but unseeing, for an instant, as she throws an arm forward. "No!" It's a single, primal word, so simple in essence...
"No." But so powerful. "You're not..."
"You're not real," she finishes as she comes to, dark locks tumbling over her pale face as she draws her hands up and back, pushing at the knotted ropes of her hair as her eyes adjust to the gloom. A few candles still burn behind Johann in the hall, illuminating him with an ethereal haze that only further maddens the woman. She believes she's still dreaming. Nobody enters but for the silent nuns in their concealing habits-- nobody speaks to her, save in muted and fearful prayer. Nobody looks like him. And nobody has that /aura/.
She cants her gaze upward as he approaches, doubtful yet not fearing. There's an odd confidence in her manner, for all that she's clearly insane, some semblance of pride and grace remaining in her otherwise hunched posture. It's with something approaching clarity that her dark blue-green eyes meet his own, open stare. If she is prey, she doesn't feel it-- nor show it. Perhaps becaue she simply doesn't believe.
"My lord left me. I beseeched his return, asked that he deliver me, and nothing. Waited. That's all I've done. Wait, and wait, and wait... through the cycle of the moon and the ending of all days, and nothing." Every time she speaks that word, it carries an increasing weight of poignancy. She shivers, clutching more tightly against her own scalp, as though she could still her thoughts with pressure alone. "You're here, but you're not. Nobody comes. Nobody cares. The world ends every day, and every day it begins. Nothing. /Nothing/."
Ahh such a broken woman she is. Even more easy to to lure over to his side. He would have to look into what drove this woman into such madness, but for now he will just have to repair her broken mind into something that he desires. It will be nice to add another loyal follower that seems to wield quite an interesting power. He just lets her speak as he calmly gazes back at her. He is a very calm demeanor as he just slowly smiles again. "Oh do not worry. I am very real." he responds finally as he steps closer and a gloved hand reaches out.
The feel of soft leather brushes a cheek before he moves to get strands of messed up hair out of the woman's face so he can get a better look. "Where everyone else will abandon you I am here to help you. Look how they treat you here. You are no monster." he says. Even with the deep voice the tone is a soothing one. He is rather glad he decided to come here himself instead of send another. Sonia would have perhaps been the only other one qualified and she is a bit busy with other duties as of late. Abobo....well this is certainly not something he is suited for at all.
"Come now. Do you want to stay here and be treated like this?" he asks and pulls his hand away only to offer it so she could take it so he can pull her to her feet and let her stand up fully. "I can offer you so much. We are kindred spirits afterall. I can give you a reason to exist again."
Passage to Amy's pale cheek is bought only by passing through the looping tendrils of the Dragon's Breath; and though it seems to part readily enough before such assured motions, Johann will find it less than entirely insubstantial. Like slipping a hand through the grass, or through a shallow stream, there is soft resistance at every point, the mist parting with the gentlest of hisses... and causing an accompanying ripple in the stricken young woman's aura. She lifts her chin at the contact that follows, ill suppressing another shudder.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Johann's touch resonates as acceptable; almost pleasant, and certainly a mite comforting after months of only the most businesslike, fleeting contact. Though never the most social of beasts, the Knight Templar leans momentarily into his palm, her eyes lidding as she draws a breath. His words have a greater effect, her look glazing as she seems to digest them with a patience only the mad possess...
"Men are the monsters," she utters distantly as she regards the outstretched hand, her gaze flickering to one side - toward the window - and then to the door. The convent still sleeps, adjusted to her nightly ravings, this relatively low-key display not enough to cause a disturbance. "Festering and ungrateful, cold and cruel," her lip curls, and another shudder wracks her frame. Her hands slip from her head at last, drifting to her chest where they entwine, digits whitening again quickly enough with the brutality of even this simple gesture. "My lord would deliver me from them, from the purpose by which they enslaved me. What would--"
She hesitates on that, clapping her mouth shut and looking up at Johann, eyes growing more wild. That strength glows in them, too; she may be broken, but she's not helpless in the least. On a lesser man it might inspire terror. With the shift in her mood and her aura comes a deepening and tightening of the mists that surround the room, the atmosphere taking on a darker and more sinister hue. It becomes harder to breathe, too, even for Amy.
"What purpose would you give me? You want the cup? You want the moon? I will take them not!" She almost spits that, her shoulders bunching together, neck straining as she sways away; as though disgusted. "Objects - /things/ - that's all they want... as though material lust could bear salvation. As though it /helps/."
The change in mood does make a brow quirk just momentarily from the man as he listens. He rather likes what he sees and by no means does he seem bothered by the display at all. If anything it just seems to brighten his mood. "You served before and what did you get, my dear?" he asks finally and he cants his head a bit to the side. "You were left for dead and forsaken to this place. I would never do that to you."
He starts to idly tug at the glove covering one of his hands as he goes on. Removing it before gently shoving it into the pocket of his slacks. "I promise you whatever you want. I just want your obedience." That hand he holds out towards her begins to glow a soft blue coloration. "We have power. Why not use it to our advantage? Do you really wish to just sit here and be treated in such a manner? If you do just say so and I will fade away."
Perhaps it is the delirium she suffers from, but it almost looks as if a black void is opening below Johann as he just stands there, his brow furrowed just slightly as he concentrates. Slowly a blackish form begins to emerge and curl around him. "The power I control grows stronger. Let me mold it into a world we could both be happy in." It is almost as if a second set of eyes gaze at the woman now as a form of something that almost looks draconic in nature is there for a brief moment staring into her.
Nothing so changes a man, or woman, as being offered their heart's most fervent desire.
Nothing, except perhaps the direct offer of power. To those that want it, power is everything.
Amy's intensified countenance grows nearly savage as Johann continues his cunning negotiation, masked neatly behind smiles and a bedside manner that has thus far kept the hunkering demon at bay. That he draws himself as an equal is intriguing-- and certainly new to the fallen Templar, whose experience with her former masters has been quite the reverse. To be treated as less than messiah, to not be elevated upon a pedestal, to be approached as one both in need of saving and one who is worth of being saved... even in the throes of madness, this cannot help but break through. Wild eyes affix to his extended hand, and slowly, the woman's posture unfolds, her hands lowering and legs slipping over the edge of the bed.
Like a wary animal she leans forward and peers upward, almost seeming to sniff his outstretched hand. A downward glance takes in the apparition below, Orochi's abandoned warrior squinting with perplexed desperation before it becomes something she cannot miss. To her credit, she neither gasps not recoils, merely straightening, wide-eyed with revelation rather than wonder. His eyes, they speak to her as much as his words.
"Control is an illusion," she repeats like a mantra, voice distant but lacking a critical edge, as though she were turning these words around in mouth and mind at once. "Power, though," her lips purse, eyes narrowing to slits as she rocks gently back and forth, hands clasping the bedframe now. She is a moment from standing on her own impetus, when she suddenly smiles, "Power is reality. You ask what she wants, this child, this thing?" Her voice curls with an odd humour. She's becoming more aware, if no less unhinged.
Amy is on her feet a beat later, stepping dangerously close to Johann and his dark energy. Her own mists, billowed outward by the summoning of that draconic power, draw closer in their turn - following her motions and intent, summoned by her very will. They are no weaker than they were, perhaps gaining a greater consistency, growing more viscous as their mistress gains in self-assuredness. She breathes shallow as she remains silent a moment or two, keeping her gaze lifted to meet Johann's eyes as equally as she can with her own.
"Freedom," she says at last, voice low and private, some trickle of true emotion coming through.
"If you can bring me that, then leave, and I come with you. If not..."
Her gaze tracks around over her shoulder, and her countenance seems to glaze once more. As though she were abandoning herself, slow but sure, to the eventuality that may come to pass. The bed holds a chilling vision for her now, the cold, creased sheets repulsing her. They always have. But there's been nothing else.
"If you give me nothing, then leave alone. Leave me to nothing. To the eternal end."
That smile grows more sly by the moment. Yes, he thiks this will be quite an acquisition to make. At first he will have to be careful at least. The woman is still not in the right mind, but that can be fixed over time and he has the patience to do so. To get another follower and one that that can do more than standard grunt work that Abobo and his minions usually provide will be nice to have. "Freedom, very well. That is an easy request."
In an instant the vision of the creature curled around him is gone and the ground back to normal. The blue glow surrounding his exposed hand slowly fades and he reaches to pull the glove back on. "It will beneficial to both of us I believe. You can have your fun finding me and in return I will get to see that I was right in meeting you." And finding him at the right time will be the fun part. When he is hidden away not to be seen in the public light. Coming after him when he is in the open would just lead to him declaring her insane and getting security or the police to lock her away.
"Well now. I suppose you best prepare yourself. I suppose I shall have to wait." he says with a bit of an exaggerated sigh. He turns about to leave and he stops once reaching the door. "I would say we never met, but I doubt anyone here would believe you anyways." That he is sure of. Of course there are other reasons for that. "I would suggest you leave quickly. Don't want to be blamed for anything now would we?" There is a bit of a dark chuckle there after he says that and he closes the door behind him and the footsteps soon fade away. Once again the woman is left to her own devices.
Easy. Amy used to believe everything was so; straightforward, too boring to even make sufficient effort, her life an unending drift through a sepia-toned world that had little to offer besides a slow-mounting cynicism that threatened to overwhelm her. And then she found a purpose. Found a god. That she was imbued with these curious powers stopped being a frustrating burden, and became almost a joy...
Now, the idea that anything could be 'easy' draws a harsh and bitter laugh. The state of her mind twists it to an insipid little giggle, bitten off with a quite literal gnawing of her lip as she turns back toward Johann, keeping her shoulders hunched as has become instinctive and natural during her raving months. Intelligence remains in that oceanic stare, but it's starting to be overwhelmed again. Now, though, she fights it, bidding her mind to surface even as his power is sheathed. The mists continue to bob and sway around them.
"Find you I shall," she murmurs, lifting a hand to her side, fingers curling through the Dragon's Breath. It clings to her, climbs up her arm, curls about her shoulder, but she remains gazing upon Johann. His parting words draw a cold twitch of the mouth, something halfway between a grimace and smirk that sends another shudder through her frame. It reaches her legs and she's forced to sit as he leaves, all but collapsing to the edge of the bed. Her arm remains upraised, buoyed by her own lingering energies. His chuckle is all she hears, for several long moments; she sends no farewell after him, nor moves to follow in his path.
Madness is not stupidity. Whatever action he takes... it will not be hers.
Beyond that, she doesn't care. Betrayed by man and god alike, she has no attachment to either. Running a hand down through the tangled knots of her hair, she turns her gaze to the ceiling, watching as she draws in deep, soothing breaths, the chi fog rolling past her vision. No, she'll not follow in his path.
But she will make her own.
When the monastery awakes, they find an empty bed in an empty room. Even the mist is gone; and one candle remains lit outside, burning steadily to a messy stump in the midst of its snuffed peers. Amy Johnson has left the building - but she leaves a light to guide the other departed soul, that they may find the peace she seeks.
Her own path may not be easy. But it will not... be nothing.
Log created on 14:33:11 05/09/2012 by Johann, and last modified on 08:18:07 05/10/2012.