Let me toy with you

by **Irriari** on July 18th, 2011, 5:24 am

Let me toy with you

Closed: Keating and Cassandra, please.
Reader advisory: Mature themes contained within this thread.

Summer, Day 60, 511 AV

It had been nearly two months since Irriari had last been to the Silver Sliver tavern along the docks of Ravok. While she had frequented many other taverns around Ravok, most tended to be as boring and insufferable as the humans that frequented them. The barmaid from the Sliver with the long dark wavy hair was intriguing. She had the passionate fire of many of the zith in her home colony, though the trait had taken her by surprise. While the beautiful woman was interesting, the snotty way she had spoken, and the sharpness of her tone had eaten at Irriari since she had left. Normally, when a human irritated her, or simply looked at her the wrong way in the streets, she would confront them, terrify them, and occasionally strike them if the urge took her. But the barmaid was protected by the establishment and quite possibly, many of the patrons as well. So tonight, she waited outside the tavern, pressed closely to a stone wall, waiting for her victim to finish her work.

When she finished, Irriari would track her from a safe a distance, to the best of her abilities. She had never tried to be stealthy in her life, due to the ease of direct confrontation. It would be risky, but plans of how she would scare and torment the girl had formed in her head until they nearly consumed her. Finally, her plan was coming to fruition! Her poison coated fingers drummed the wall impatiently, as excitement, endorphins, and adrenaline pulsed through her blood at varying rates. She had already been lounging against the cold wall for fifteen bells, but Irriari didn't want to miss her chance at fun. It had been so long since she had toyed with a human and brought them down to the level they deserved. The striking barmaid would look even more beautiful as a crying quivering mess on the floor or pressed against the headboard of a bed. Her eyes would beg and plead Irriari for mercy, but her lips would have to utter many apologies before the zith would consider being kind or letting her go. It had been so long since she had owned a slave, and every part of her wanted that power again. No. She was here for fun, and it would be simple enough to buy a slave in the market that wouldn't be missed. Now, she simply had to wait.

by **Cassandra Coven** on July 18th, 2011, 8:25 am

Cassandra waved weakly at Mama and Papa, her employers, too tired to even voice her goodbyes, before closing the door of the Silver Sliver behind her. She was bone-weary, having spent the night weaving in and out of the overcrowded tavern, dodging the frisky hands of patrons who’ve had a little too much to drink while serving drinks to others to bring them into the same level of inebriation. It was the same thing every night for her, though having pulled two straight shifts that day left her energy level lower than usual.

As such, she made her way across the plaza, head bowed and nearly oblivious to her surroundings. The barmaid had never felt herself in danger even when walking towards home so late at night, for the Nitrozian Plaza was well lit and guards occasionally patrolled the streets. None dared cross those, as they were under the employ of the Black Sun. Thus had the dark-haired woman grown complacent in her routine, hardly worrying that she would be accosted out in the street by some random robber, and so she shuffled without a care in the direction of Tarsin’s Boarding House.

Nearby, in the corner of one of the streets leading deeper into the Merchant’s Ring, a guard nodded at her, before turning around to light a taper from a streetlamp, then using the smoldering end to light a pipe. Lazy smoke wafted up into the darkness of the night as the man moved off to his patrol route. Cassandra did not recognize him but she thought he was one of the many she had sold a narcotic drug to – a drug she found herself craving for in the last few days, though with the supplier missing, she had no way to replenish she own stock. It was just as well, as the man was bad news and she was slowly, if painfully, recovering from her addiction. Keating had been the one to convince her to overcome her desire for it, rather forcefully in fact, and she had no choice but to comply. Still, she could not help but wish she had some sort of diversion for the night to distract her from the soreness of her tired body before she slipped into bed.

She arrived at the boarding house without incident, finding Tarsin asleep at his table at the lobby (again!) as she entered. Not bothering to offer the slumbering man a greeting (“He’s a jumpy old goat, anyway!” she thought), Cassandra went straight for the stairs, fishing for the key of her second-floor apartment in one of the pockets of her apron.

by **Irriari** on July 19th, 2011, 3:57 am

Irriari smiled as the door opened, and the last of the stumbling drunk patrons filtered out into the streets. Few made coherent sense, but it didn't matter. A few chimes after, some of the employees had made it out the door, and seemed to be more happy than she had ever seen them. She supposed that getting off of work after a hard day would be rewarding, but her days in the colony didn't lend themselves to such emotions. Her eyes saw every shadow and guard in the dark as they stood at their posts and prowled the streets. It wouldn't be much longer now, and the long haired barmaid would appear into her line of sight, and then the games would finally start.

Irriari massaged her calves as she waited, and tried to calm her breathing. A steady breath in and out. Again and again, she lectured herself, in hopes that breathing calmer would steady her racing mind, but with every second and each employee that passed, her thoughts became more twisted. A flash of light burst into her sight and illuminated the street as the tavern door swung open. Irriari grimaced and silently swore at the light. Petching light. But it was her! The cocky petching barmaid who had gotten away with insulting her.

Irriari watched as she the woman made her way across the plaza. Her movements were graceful and seductive, even when she wasn't working. No wonder she had gotten the job. Irriari's eyes took in as much of the surrounding area as possible. There were too many guards. While she doubted they had good night vision, a single call from an astute guard could alert the woman to her presence and cause her to flee. So, when she was a sufficient distance away, Irriari wrapped her wings tightly around her body and ignored the pain as muscles pulled in her upper back. Her pace was slow and leisurely, though her eyes never left her target. While her eyes might have been able to see nearly everything in the dark, if the girl turned suddenly she could lose her.

The route felt eerily familiar as Irriari had passed all the shops earlier that night. After a few more chimes, her targets tired gait slowed to a near stop in front of Tarsin's Boarding House. The barmaid lived here? It was almost too ironic and too funny to be real. Now, Irriari quickened her pace, though the woman was already halfway up the stairs before Irriari stood at the base of them. This would be the most difficult test. As the girl turned slightly to enter the second floor wing of the apartments, Irriari ignored Tarsin and ran up the stairs and stopped short when she saw the girl pulling the silver handled key from her apron. Irriari smiled. The barmaid looked tired. But it wouldn't do to have her too tired. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to enjoy the humans torment.

The tumblers in the lock clicked back and with a turn of the wrist the door opened. Now, as the girl stepped inside, she would have to make her move. Irriari walked down the short hallway in a few paces, with her wings slightly spread. Her poison covered nails were coated in a mild concoction that would reduce the humans agility for 3 bells. Thankfully, it would sink in within a chime or two, which made up for the lack of wondrous effects. Irriari knew the girl would sight her as her bare feet pounded onto the wooden floor boards. She still had to act, had to move, before the girl could run away.

She slammed into the taller woman into the door, hoping to push her further into the room. Irriari's hands reached for the barmaids wrists, to poison and subdue her further. All she needed was one clean cut, and the girl would find that every action would be agonizingly slow in execution as her muscles refused to do her will.

“Do you remember me? You're not so safe now, are you? Are you going to be brave, or will you cry for me?”

Irriari laughed and punctuated the last word with a snarl.

by **Cassandra Coven** on July 20th, 2011, 11:55 pm

She opened the door to an empty room, its only occupants the inanimate furniture sitting where she had left them earlier that day. From the moonlight spilling in from the outside, she could see that the bed was still unmade from when she had gotten up to rush off to work that morning, and one of the closet doors was ajar, her nightclothes strewn on the floor before it. Nothing had changed. For a moment, Cassandra groused at the fact that there was no sweet bone in Keating's body. Sometimes she wished that the man would leave a surprise for her when she got back from work, like a bouquet of flowers or even just a note, really - she wasn't picky! She just wanted what women her age received from their man, like the things she heard from her fellow barmaids, how this one's lover left her dinner, or that one's admirer would slip love letters under her door...

Maybe I'm just in the wrong type of relationship.

Sighing, Cassandra motioned to close the door, but she paused when she heard the pounding of bare feet on the wooden floor outside. She was about to ask herself what the commotion was about when suddenly the world exploded into violence. Caught unawares, Cassandra did not realize what was happening until her door was shoved open, pushing her back into the room, and a small, dark figure barreled into her. As she staggered backwards, the dark-haired woman could just make out the silhouette of bat-like wings on her assailant's back and she knew instinctively that it was the Zith she had served - and no doubt insulted! - at the tavern so many days before. The vindictive little critter! What was she doing here? Had she been biding her time for payback?

Taloned hands reached up for her and Cassandra let out a panicked gasp. The thing was trying to claw at her, perhaps hoping to gouge out her eyes! Shielding her face and neck with one arm, the dark-haired woman drew the dagger hidden on her skirt's waistline with the other. The weapon was a stiletto, its blade meant for stabbing more than anything else, but she nonetheless used it to slash a wide arc in front of her, to force the Zith to back away from her. The thing had raked her free arm; Cassandra could feel rivulets of her blood running down the length of the limb. First blood may be on the gods-forsaken creature but she was armed now and she was quite versed in the use of her weapon. She was not afraid to use it either.

"What do you want, you rat-skinned thing?!" she rasped. The lethargy she had felt earlier was gone now, washed away by adrenaline.

Cassandra glanced at the door, her only avenue of escape, but it had slammed shut when it rebounded against the wall, and the Zith blocked the shortest path towards it as well. She backed away, moving to put the small table between her and the Zith, her dagger held up and pointed at her attacker to ward it away.

"Go back to whatever cave spawned you, bat-girl! Leave us huma-"

She paused, feeling her wounded arm begin to tingle. Briefly, she looked down on it, wondering what was causing the strange sensation. But it was too dark and she could not make out anything other than the dark trails left by her blood.

by **Irriari** on July 24th, 2011, 6:10 pm

A blade curved in a wide arc, and Irriari felt it tear the skin of her chest. Blood seeped slowly from the stinging wound, and Irriari noted that the reason the girls strike had been less effective, was that she carried a stiletto blade instead of a sword. Irriari had no idea where the weapon had come from, or that the women would be armed at all. She snarled, but pushed forward, unshaken by the blade. The weapon was great for stabbing, and a few of the females in her colony preferred the slender blade as a back-up, or to add more flair to their kills. Surely, the humans they had slaughtered hadn't expected such a weapon, and when they found themselves trying to counter an axe they could see, a hidden stiletto was already buried into their shoulders.

Irriari laughed aloud when the woman, oblivious to the harm she had caused weeks ago, had the courage to ask why she was being attacked.

“You don't remember what you did? When you insulted me, you petching bitch... I bet you felt safe at the bar, didn't you? Whose going to protect you now? Do you actually intend to harm me with that pigsticker?”

In truth, Irriari was wary of the blade, and without knowing how good the woman was with it, she was still in danger. It would be difficult to get the weapon away from the woman, but she would have to try. Irriari watched as the bar maid slowly made her way behind the table in the middle of the room. Various personal belongings were littered across the surface, but there didn't seem to be any more weapons within easy reach. The woman continued yelling angrily, and insulted her again, though Irriari hardly cared. The time for payback had come, and the feisty barmaid continued to dig her grave even deeper. When Irriari saw her inspect her arm she smiled cruelly, taking a second to savor the effects of her poisoning. At least this one caught on better than the drykas, but she had learned before not to tell her victims that they were poisoned. Few gave up or became hysterical after the fact, and most of her targets fought harder than ever, as Vanator had proved.

So she ignored the girl and instead focused on the wooden table that was only a few steps away. Purposefully, she walked toward it as the girl examined her newly cut arm. Irriari forcefully pushed the table, intending to hit the girl with it, and knock her off her feet. The table was heavier than she expected however, and though it moved, she doubted it would do more than push the girl back.

Poison effects, for reference :

by **Cassandra Coven** on July 25th, 2011, 1:53 am

The Zith did not appear to be cowed by the naked blade, continuing her steady advance even as Cassandra backpedaled away from her. The winged woman lunged to shove the table in the barmaid's direction, perhaps to pin her between it and the bed, or to distract her by the sliding of the myriad of objects sitting on top of it. Whatever the reason, it was clear from the Zith's movements tht she intended to use the furniture as a some form of weapon. Cassandra was forced to drop her hands and brace them against the table, pushing with her palms against the nearest edge to counter the Zith's efforts.

"Go away!" she shrieked.

Instinctively, Cassandra flung out her injured arm, reaching over the far end of the table in an attempt to grab the Zith by the wrist. If she proved successful, the dark-haired woman would call forth the effects of her Krysus-given mark, amplifying the pain of the light scratch she had inflicted upon her attacker's chest.

Vexation Mark 1 :

OOC Note :

by **Irriari** on July 25th, 2011, 2:44 am

The barmaid screamed again, shouting for her to leave, but Irriari had no intention of letting the woman best her again. She had followed the woman home and observed her pattern for weeks to exact her price in fear, tears and perhaps even pain. Realization dawned in the girls eyes and she braced her weight and strength against the edge of the table and stopped it from moving.

The barmaids arm reached over the table and Irriari almost laughed. How suicidal and stupid could a human be? The second the girls hand closed around her wrist, Irriari screamed and tried flinging the barmaids hand away with a flick of her wrist. The small wounds that had opened up on her chest were suddenly agonizingly painful and filled with molten lava.

“Petching...bitch”

Irriari tried to curse through the pain, but her chest constricted and she coughed as she sank down to her knees. The pain was of the worst she had ever felt, and each second blurred her vision as her knees dug into the wooden floor. The human female was not without her own defenses, but now, enraged even further, Irriari swore that she would pay. She reached out, in an attempt to stave off the psychotic woman and flipped the table with a strong push against it's leg. It occurred to her afterwords that the girl could easily vault over the table, if she had the strength and athletic prowess to do so.

by **Cassandra Coven** on July 25th, 2011, 4:24 am

Cassandra watched with perverse satisfaction as the Zith crumpled to the floor. It was the first time she had used the power of Vexation on her own and with malicious intention. The few times she had done so outside of the Vitrax, she did so to test the mark and to see how people reacted to it. It had never been more than a second, for she feared to do any permanent damage on anyone, or even just to cause pain - willingly - upon another being. The only exception was when she was torturing prisoners of the Black Sun, and those had been performed under the orders and supervision of Trevinus or one of his underlings and she often had to be coerced to do so.

But now, as she heard the Zith bitch gurgle a curse from the intense pain, Cassandra found herself reveling in it. Here was an ability granted to her by the divine, something that set her apart from other mortals, something that gave her power over them, and she realized that she liked it. In that moment, the mark that she had always considered a curse from Krysus became a gift, one to be enjoyed in its use. And she could do so without any pang of guilt, for her victim was no mere innocent. If the stories she heard about them were true, then surely this Zith had killed, maimed and tortured in her lifetime. Cassandra had no doubts about this just from beholding the creature's countenance. No benevolent spirit would look like that!

"You're the bitch!" she snapped at it. "You...you..."

The dark-haired woman did not finish her retort as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She swayed on her feet as the dark room spun around her, a sensation similar to standing on shaky ground during an earthquake. What was happening to her? She reached for the table to steady herself, but the Zith chose that moment to upend it. Left with nothing to catch herself with, Cassandra found the floor rushing up to meet her. Crockery and silverware fell all around her as the Zith spilled the table's contents - and the table itself - over her.

A groan escaped Cassandra's lips as she struggled to get up. She wondered at the sudden fuzzy quality of the world around her. Her mind felt like it was filled with cotton and her perception, all her senses in fact, had become cloudy.

What is going on?

by **Irriari** on July 26th, 2011, 6:46 am

Irriari stumbled to her feet and barely managed to grasp the edge of the flipped table in time to keep herself standing. She braced herself against the unsanded edge for a second, and allowed the table to keep her upright. The pain was fading away, but the memory of the agony was still too fresh in her mind. She had never felt anything like it before, and the thought of feeling it again made her nauseous. It was almost more palatable to be attacked by a raging glass beak.

As Irriari finally stopped relying on the table, she turned to see the barmaid collapsed onto the floor, with various things piled on top of her. The image was hilarious, and the lack of the humans control was vindicating after the pain she had suffered only a chime earlier. It was only the start of the horrors the girl would be subjected to, and Irriari hoped that by the time she was done, the girl and her room would be thoroughly changed and destroyed on varying levels.

Irriari moved slowly to the disoriented woman. Her steps became more confidant with every move she made, and by the time she was in front of the brown haired girl, Irriari knew that she could continue what she had started weeks ago. She bent down and roughly moved the silverware, dishes and various other items and straddled the girl roughly. While the barmaid was taller and her frame was physically more imposing, the poison mixed with whatever she else she decided to do would quickly subdue the girl, though she had no idea how long it would last. Irriari's right hand closed around the girls throat, though she had little intention of choking her. Such things were hardly entertaining, and tended to ruin the fun before it began. She only wanted to see the fear in the barmaids eyes and her clawed fingers slowly tightened around her lily white throat.

by **Keating Ash** on July 29th, 2011, 2:20 am

Keating Ash was often drunk. But on this particular night, he had been into the cups for a far longer time than usual. The drink had calmed his hard, grumpy exterior, and had buried his torturous feelings; now the man was almost boisterous in his actions. And it was very late by the time Keating stumbled into Cassandra’s apartment building. The desk clerk slept, but Keating without noticing, gave the man a drunken salute as he passed to the stairs. Bala! It was a long way up, he thought as he craned his neck back, while teetering upon his heels.

“Cassandra! Cassandra!” his large voice boomed loudly, from the bottom of the stairs, in what he thought was a whisper. “You up there, girl?” He stopped to listen, one foot raised to scale the next step. It was aching quiet in the building. Where was everybody? With a frown, he staggered up, his boots falling heavily on each step as he slowly ascended. One hand held onto the wall to support himself, while the other clutched a near empty bottle, whose meager contents sloshed wildly.

Squinting, Keating looked at all the doors. Where had they all come from? His inebriated mind couldn’t remember which one was the pretty barmaid’s, even though he had been there often. Smartly, the man picked the first door he bumped into and with a tanned hand, jiggled the handle violently. He spoke lowly, but his deep voice carried in the empty hallway, “Open up Cass! It’s Keating! And he mumbled to himself, “Gods damn door!” But a male voice answered, “Piss off! She’s the next door over!” With a sloppy wave of his hand, Keating pushed himself free of the door frame he had been holding onto.

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Keating looked down, staring at the fabric that stretched tight across his chest. Blinking slowly, Keating realized he was hot, and suddenly wanted the thing off. His slow fingers only managed three buttons before he stumbled over his boots and into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. It was the door to Cassandra’s apartment. His shoulder hit solidly first, and then the muscled torso behind it. The door flew open. Voice booming, he announced as he almost fell into the room, “I hope you’re ready Cass…! I’ve got a mighty need…” And Keating shoved the door closed behind him, but it bounced back open forcefully, and he had to slam it once more to get it stay closed. “Gotta get that fixed…” he said to the room.

Straightening Keating stood, grandly swaying as he lifted his head. And though he was past drunk, somehow the man still held a powerful and intimidating presence. His dark gaze traveled across the room. In complete confusion, he closed one eye in an attempt to make his sluggish mind focus, and understand what it was that he saw.