Hello, everyone! after dealing with real life and the other nonsense of living, panny and i have decided to bring back war of change. give a round of applause. we’ve worked through all of the information and hopefully improved coherency and cohesion; however, tell us if we missed something. eventually, we’ll announce an event to celebrate the re-opening, so look out for information on that. -RAIDNE, THE HEAD ADMIN
From the moonless night, screams of terror and fear resound, spreading across the world and infecting the masses; however, those sleepless nights occurred years ago. A new era began with the fires of war, and with no end in sight, the residents of Selene Isle trudge through life, basking in the momentary peace. Despite their prayers for continued monotony and peace, a storm brews, stirred to life by the continued presence of Rapture and Wraith. And as we set our sights on the seemingly peace laden isle, we must ask: how shall this tale end?
As the years passed, the number of true pairs increased; however, they continued to live in the shadows, catering to the whims of the mundane. Seven Moons kept watch over them all, instructing them and assisting them, but for many, the attitudes and ideals of the organization were smoldering, suffocating. With Seven Moons and the mundanes, they could not grasp the freedom, the power dangling before their eyes. In the beginning, rebellion was a dream, a fantasy, a figment—developed by the repressed and carried forward due to the nature of humanity. No one expected the call to sound, and no one expected the call to be answered. However, it happened.
clouds glided across the star studded sky, and their endless movement caused the silvery light to fade in and out of existence. the luminous globe lacked the strength to overpower the wispy objects as the beams merely vanished within the smoky item. however, for many people, the absence of light signified danger. during the night, the idea of death and mayhem hovered near the forefront of conscious thought, and it strayed the feet of many civilians, causing them to stay within the relative safety of their homes. the florescent lights and the warmth of the gas fireplaces helped ease their fears, granting them a respite from reality. they cast themselves under an illusion, deluding themselves into believing the lie that they toiled away at manifesting. children understood that monsters crept through the shadows of the poorly lit night, yet their parents ignored their warnings, soothing the distraught adolescent with whispered reassurances and comforting touches.
humanity proved to be a conundrum, stubborn and unwilling to relinquish their grasp on the peaceful lifestyle that they foolishly continued to believe in. dimitri wanted to remind them of the terrors that slumbered in the shadows of their memories and of their hearts. no one could boast of perfect innocence, for everyone catered to their baser desires, yielding to their wants and washing away the memories of their sins. insular chuckles escaped the man as he traversed the cemetery. old souls rested underneath the dirt, ignorant of their descendants’ sins and able to rest peacefully despite the gathering storm. the pastel haired sadist loathed the idea of their tranquil existence in another plane of existence; however, he could not affect the lifestyles of the deceased. no, he lacked the proper skill set to wreck havoc in the heavens. jade green hued eyes reappeared, flashing dangerously as the laughter increased in volume.
yes, dimitri recognized his limitations, and he plotted around his obvious inability. he focused his efforts upon the living, dragging them closer and closer to insanity with each executed assassination and each moonless night. synister remained stationed in the shadows, awaiting the order to appear and destroy the fragile, manufactured peace of selene isle. the greenette ceased moving, standing in the middle of the dusty road and throwing his arms out—stretching them toward the glittering lights of the night sky. with his head tipped back, the wind dragged at the lose strands of pale green hair, playing with them and helping maintain the man’s connection to reality. the tether between his mind and the present threatened to shatter, creaking ominously with each diversion from the prewritten script of his thoughts. he remained motionless for a few brief moments, and when he regained control of his senses, he slowly pulled his arms back to his sides and continued on his merry way.
blood dripped from his pale fingers, descending to the dusty road and leaving a trail for pursuers. did he expect someone to follow him? yes, he wanted to believe that his actions incurred the wrath of some unfortunate soul. death traversed in his wake, and with the unexplainable demise of two cops, he desired to see the reaction that his actions would garner from the public and from the other residents of the night. one hand rose from his side, hand hovering before his mouth and tongue darting out to lap at the substance coating his fingers. the liquid carried a copper taste that settled on his tongue and elicited a pleased hum from the sociopath. his pace slowed to a meandering gait as the sound of harsh pants reached his ears, and as the sound increased in volume, he halted his forward progression, standing in the moonlight and turning his head to the side. an unrecognizable figure hovered on the fringes of the moonlight, huffing and puffing as the distance between them decreased. how delightful, a voice purred in his mind as the stranger stepped into the moonlight that descended around the fair haired crime syndicate member.
I Saw His Inside Through His Eyes, the vision was circling black
While prudence had never been an over-arching presence in the man's life, tonight he had outdone himself. It was, of course, no secret that the one-eyed bartender had experienced long standing feelings of lust towards his elusive and cruel master, but Llyr had always maintained an air of professionalism regarding Dimitri's personal outings. He had attempted the role of good subservient, but, in the end, his pathological desires had won out. It was the cyclical nature of Llyr; the endless string of habit he was forever doomed to bob from while the flames of consequence licked at his heels.
Tonight he had violated his master's privacy and ducked after him into the night.
Round and round the city he'd run: dodging and darting and taking the greatest of lengths to ensure that Dimitri did not notice the sentinel tailing him through the slums of Selene and into the country beyond. Llyr had been accustomed to the thrill of stalking a target-- the spasms of anticipation in knowing his hand determined the fate of the life it watched-- but he had never played guardian to a man as powerful as Dimitri before. Preying on a future corpse was second nature to him, entertaining the fantasy of protector and vigilante to his superior felt perverse; and not in the ways Llyr was accustomed to.
Perhaps this explained why he felt giddy. Like each footstep was larks beneath the endless skyscape of city-dulled starlight. This was wrong. It was new and wrong and childish and Llyr loved it. His eye trained on the invisible pathways Dimitri wove through Selene while he, the base thug, hungered after him behind the edges of rooftops and under the dark purple shades cast by the faint moon.
And yet the lawless man pressed on with greater speed, leaving Llyr floundering to keep an even pace while remaining undetected. He had barely registered the deaths of the two officers Dimitri had left in his wake before the man had vanished into the night-- once again too swift, too devilish for Llyr to grasp in his unfeeling hands. Making to follow his master, still, Llyr paused as the soft static of a police radio drifted down one of the nearby alleys. A man, around Llyr's age, whispered frantically into the mouthpiece; his skin pale as the stars and his eyes sunken into his head from fear.
Llyr slid off his shoes in the darkness, crept up behind the man, and slid his knife between the man's ribs. The punctured lung silenced him instantly and, apart from a few carp-like rasps, he moved very little and then not at all. Llyr retracted the blade, grinning at the sheen of the blood on the metal under the light of a sodium lamp. Three cold bodies for the morning news. Drawing the weapon close to his face, Llyr kissed the flat side of the knife and pretended the blood was his own.
But enough time had passed and he needed to return to his self-assigned charge. The space between them would be a demanding one to fill, and the murder broke into wind sprint in the direction he'd seen Dimitri glide towards. Perhaps it was intuition or ill-placed fate, but Llyr finally had to stop at the edge of the cemetery. Breath heavy and strained from the fear rushing into the back of his throat, he paused just before the wrought iron gates-- rusted and strangled by all manners of creeping foliage.
A realm for the dead; for ghostly apparitions to skulk among their weather worn marble graves and eerie angel monuments. Llyr shivered and imagined the goose-flesh that used to pepper his arms when he thought of spirits. Would Dimitri really venture here, of all places, on this night, of all nights? He swallowed a glob of warm saliva, regretting the action as it slid slowly down his esophagus like child's hand-- descending, descending, and--
But on the crest of the hill he could see the figure-- defiant and beautiful as Lucifer leaping from the graces of god-- of Dimitri. Surely no wraith would dare confront him if that man stood guard over the graveyard? The spirits themselves would recognize the power Synister's depraved cornerstone held over the heads of humanity and buckle in envy that they themselves were not subject to his reach.
Paralyzed with his superstitious fear, Llyr did not notice that his right gloved hand was clutching at his chest as he struggled to breath.
"This is pathetic," he told himself too quietly for the eager ghosts to hear, "This is weakness."
And yet he remained frozen before the great rows of headstones like the rotted teeth of a colossal maw, poised to sink into his remaining skin and swallow him whole.
tag: @zeit00 ooc: mmmm sorry about this. i got a little carried away. otz
translucent and enigmatic, dimitri resembled the ghosts from the horrific tales of past grievances and of forgotten betrayals. he glided through the streets, reaffirming his presence upon the isle and establishing his command with his silence perusal of the alleys. his route slithered in and out of the shadows as he traversed the districts of selene isle, and when he passed, the crooks ceased moving, staring after him with expressions of either unadulterated disgust or of pure adoration. despite their rage and their mindless subservience, the pastel haired sadist delighted in watching the minute shifts in their countenances, chuckling softly with each enraged snarl and with each stuttering sigh that followed in his wake. people expected chaos to ensue upon his appearance in the moonlit night; however, he merely intended to witness the glory of the star studded sky and wanted a brief respite from blasphemy, whose atmosphere remained electric and erratic with the movement of bodies and of money.
when his route diverged from his chosen path, he expected to be greeted by the sight of nameless thugs; however, two police officers stood with their hands hovering over their guns and grins stretched across their faintly tanned miens. dimitri cocked his head to the side, lifting a hand to absently brush his bangs away from his eyes and watching them in obvious bemusement. their defensive stances elicited vivid images of his red haired toy, and due to the resemblance spotted in their body language, the greenette decided to waste a few precious seconds upon brutalizing their bodies. amusement surfaced to the forefront of his emotions as their voices echoed in the alley, grating against his ear drums and leading him to reveal his hidden dagger. moonlight glinted off the weapon while his body moved instinctively to plunge the blade into the unprotected chest of the nearest man, twisting the item upon impaling the rapidly moving chest and watching as blood soaked the man’s shirt and his fingers.
pale lips curved into a demented smile as the other man grappled for his gun, fingers clumsily working on the clasps and eyes wide in obvious fright. the fearful aura acted as a drug for the sociopath as he rose from the downed officer’s body, frame looming over the deceased individual and gaze locked on the floundering man. within a instant, he struck like a viper, whose territory had been encroached upon. another dagger sunk into the man’s neck, slicing at the arteries and then disappearing into the hallow region between two of the dying man’s ribs. breaths escaped him in pained gasps; however, dimitri’s laughter echoed as he ceased moving, bent over the collapsed body and features set in a malicious expression of abject glee. adrenaline rushed through his veins as whispered words tumbled from the stranger’s lips, barely reaching the crime syndicate member’s ears though the impact of the words did not exist. those barely audible statements furthered his amusement and granted him the energy necessary to practically skip toward the cemetery.
with his memories of the night’s incident receding from the forefront of his conscious thoughts, emerald tinted eyes sought out the shape of his approaching companion, who managed to trace his route through the isle and that hovered on the edge of revealing himself. a huff escaped him as he pivoted in the direction of the panting. emotions vanished from his visage as he diminished the distance between himself and his pursuer, walking calmly closer to the vine infested tombstones and cocking his head to the side as the figure gained substance. flashes of recognition appeared in his jewel toned gaze as he halted his forward progression, situated on the very edge of the moonlight that descended upon the cemetery. the silvery light shrouded his figure in a cloak of an ethereal, ephemeral quality that dimitri could not witness though of which he imagined in vivid detail.
good evening, llyr, he purred while carefully enunciating the other’s name, dragging out the word and leaning closer as his statement ended. did you come to visit me? the question rolled off his tongue as he finally stepped out of the natural spotlight, creeping closer to the blonde and situating himself before the one eyed individual. pale lips quirked into a smirk as one hand drifted toward the other male, fingers ghosting over the other’s hand, which clutched at the fabric of his shirt. and if not, how can i be of assistance? his head tipped to the side while the intent behind his inquiry remained hidden—obscured by the teasing glint contained within his gaze and by the upward tilt of his lips, which belayed his amusement. perhaps his entertainment would not end with the death of the two cops.
790 @llyr for some reason, i felt the need to describe the death scenes of the two cops. :/
I Saw His Inside Through His Eyes, the vision was circling black
"Good evening, Llyr."
His eye widened, pupil looking pink and sickly under the harsh moonlight, as it met his mark's own bemused gaze. A flash of movement and Llyr's attention darted to his employer's hand, hovering inches above his own as it dug into the scarred flesh beneath his thick coat. He could not know whether Dimitri had grazed his fingers with the gesture; he could not even feel the slight tremor of air passing over his mechanical appendage. The lifeless arches of cogs and wires and durable plating could only fantasize how the experience would have felt-- the devil's hand on his own, the quick and the dead the only witnesses to the feigned intimacy.
He wrenched his attention back to Dimitri's face, regretting the stagnant emotions and how obtrusive they were in light of the situation. Of course the man would know his thoughts-- Llyr himself knew the familiarity one's underlings could harbor for their despotic benefactor. To lead one had to contain, at very least, a grain of pragmatism. To follow one only needed obsession and a kind of violence in their mind. And even with only an eye and a crooked mouth, Llyr knew his desires were betrayed by his face.
"Did you come to visit me?"
keep yourself calm, nothing in your eyes, nothing on your skin. keep your mind off the ghosts and on what is happening.
"And if not how can I be of assistance."
"Sir," his voice monotone as he could manage, "I--"
A beat. In the distance the faint cacophony of sirens was drowned out by the swell of night insects crouching in the shadows of the stalks of twisted crab grass and the tumbledown tombstones. The texture of a cricket's hind legs, a memory of pulling apart the fat bodied creatures and running his tongues over their disembodied limbs; tiny hooks and edges to produce different tones. A tremor rose from his stomach and into his shoulders and Llyr tried to practice weighing the pros and cons of honest in the same moment.
"I was following you, yes. Not for business, but for--" he inhaled, as if the night air would allow the fortitude his forthcoming required, "Personal reasons."
He refused to lower his eyes in shame, despite how shrilly his body commanded him to do so. A powerful figure would not find such hesitance, such weakness, endearing. Power should command power. Ambition sewing further, though more base and brutal, ambition in its searing wake. Lying was acceptable among insects like himself, but the beetle dared not spin falsehoods to the swift reflexes of the swallow.
Setting his jaw as firmly as he could, Llyr straightened himself, the visions of the spirits an after thought in presence of this eminent, spectral figurehead. Though not a poetic individual, he could not help but not the distorted halo the moon provided for Dimitri; framing him as a perverse contender for an impressionist's Christ. One who listless patrons of galleries would shy from out of wariness of his sloping eyes and wicked, open mouthed grin.
Perhaps he would enjoy art were this the norm of religious pieces. Perhaps...
He shook his head slightly, clearing the foggy thoughts and fruitless branches of notion.
"I did not expect to be... discovered so quickly, though," he bent his knees in reverence-- a little bob of a bow, deviantly playful despite the situation surrounding the action-- and drew his bloodied knife with a small, red-stained smile. Laying the blade flat in his palm, Llyr presented it to Dimitri like a good beast expecting a reward, but hoping for penalty instead.
"And I did not know I would be needed either."
tag: @zeit00 ooc: nah, violence is pretty fun to write, tbh c;
666
open
he wants to torment someone tbh.
