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| Let Me Dream; Hemlock | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 8 2011, 07:23 AM (336 Views) | |
| Hinge | Jun 8 2011, 07:23 AM Post #1 |
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There was wind blowing. He could hear it! It was there! It moved the trees nearby and the tents of the merchants and the wanted posters on the wall, it even moved his own clothing and his long hair, but he denied its existence. He could not feel it. Oh, how it ever did frustrate him. Constantly did he try to remind himself was feeling was like--he knew it was still real, and that he'd had it before, but he couldn't remember it. It'd been such a short time, too, and yet there was simply nothing that could make him experience what it was like unless he killed the host. And though he didn't want to kill this host, he was beginning to go stir-crazy. That sort of thing probably does happen when you're a few thousand years old with no particular goal besides getting yourself a body and killing it as a parasite, only to find another. There really was no point to his existence. He just wanted it to end. But the end would not come, and forevermore would he have to endure this. It was strange, how much he'd thought about things. He'd been completely ignorant of it all for hell knows how long--but only recently had he stopped enjoying his time and thinking about what was to become of him, and this world, after all of the crazy things that had happened recently. Perhaps it was because he'd found the perfect host, or perhaps it was because of her disability, and in return his own, or it could even have been the fact that he was just starting to finally get old. To mature. His memory was beginning to doubt him, and thus he was beginning to doubt himself. When was he brought into existence? How was he? Was he ever born? How did one become a demon? ... Was he previously alive? She had been very quiet inside of him for a very long time. He had been having dominance for some time, now, returning to the harp only so that she might sleep at night. Her will seemed to be completely broken, and she was never going to fight back at him again. He almost felt concerned, which was very unlike him, and it confused him greatly. He'd never dominated a host like this before--always had they fought back until their untimely death. He'd even been nice to her and preserved her body. But no, she just gave up and surrendered to him. Did that mean something? Would that perhaps even effect the curse, the host giving the resident their form, permanently, even when they died? Not that he wanted this form forever, of course. He preferred his--wait, did he even have his own? What did he look like? He was simply a mirror or someone else, he didn't have his own face, his own mind, his own will, nothing. Was he being selfish? Selfish, to want something of his own? Something that most others already had? Was it wrong to want to have an identity? Satsuyo stood at the port's edge of Zedrin. There were no ships, no sailors, no cargo, no one and nothing around. He simply stood there, unmoving, looking out over the ocean. His braid and cape flew behind him with the ocean breeze and his hap sitting at his feet, he had such an urge to simply kick it into the port... |
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| Hemlock | Jun 8 2011, 08:18 AM Post #2 |
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Satsuyo wasn't quite paying attention, because someone else was there. Hemlock was checking over the docks carefully, making sure everything was in order for the arrival of the ambassador from Ashoka. Tensions were high between Razarod and Orion right now, Razarod's hatred of the iron-fisted way that Orion was running Ashoka being one of the few things that Angkar's king did get involved with these days. Hemlock couldn't wait to be rid of what had become a pathetic excuse for a ruler, spending most of his days wallowing around in a depressed funk and having his subordinates do most of his job for him. If only people knew... It was then that Hemlock stumbled upon the young man standing on the edge of one of the docks. This was a problem. Since this is where the ship was going to land. "Young man, I hate to disturb you, but we have a ship scheduled to land here not too long from now. You'll probably want to find another spot in a little while, before they arrive." But instead of moving on, Hemlock stood there with him a bit, looking out at the ocean. "It is quite a view isn't it? Can be pretty peaceful, when it's not busting at the seams with people... Which is quite rare, honestly. But... That's a good thing for me, isn't it!" It was then that he happened to notice the harp sitting at the boy's feet, and picked it up gently. "Hope you don't mind... This is quite the instrument. My mother wanted me to learn it at one time, but... I just wasn't very good. Not with the harp anyway. The organ and the harpsichord are more my thing..." He went silent again, looking over the peculiar instrument carefully. It was well-made, and felt unlike any he had ever seen before. His eyes darted up to the sky for just a second, and from the position of the sun, he would wager they still had a little over half an hour before anyone showed. And other than the young man occupying a dock meant to be used soon, everything appeared to be in order. |
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| Hinge | Jun 8 2011, 10:39 AM Post #3 |
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At first there was no response from him; hell, he didn't even notice that there was anyone there, or that they were speaking to him. Numb was the feeling that had overtaken him; he was almost imaging that all his senses were gone--the smell of the salty sea air, the vision of the lapping waves, the sound of the man's voice in his hears, the taste of blood in his mouth. As if simply suspended in a reality, similarly to the way one was when inside of the harp without a host, aside from the instinct. In the harp, the immediate instinct of the one possessing it was to find a host. Since the harp was enchanted--or rather, cursed--it had properties that allowed it to move about the spans of time and the fabrics of reality. Satsuyo didn't notice the man until the harp was picked up; his natural connection with it allowed him to sense it being touched or moved. He turned to face him, looking the man up and down with a cold, glaring face, however he wasn't feeling as bad as he looked; his face had just gotten stuck like that from staring too long. Still did the demon refrain from speech; his expression simply examined the figure a bit as he went on half to himself. "It's a hellish instrument," he finally replied after another minute or so of silence, his voice fairly light and casual. "Nothing good ever comes of it." Only then did he pester Satuse inside of him to tell him what the guy had said before, where she quietly answered in his head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as she repeated what the man had said earlier before reaching up a hand to run his fingers through his hair, sighing with exasperation. "When the ship comes, it can move around me," he then stated defiantly, and quite foolishly. That was just like him, too, to be stubborn like that, however usually he gained more enjoyment from his stubbornness. At this point he was just a bit frustrated at the world, and didn't feel really like going anywhere. Perhaps he'd gained the quality as a habit instead of a hobby. He cursed himself for that, as it wasn't amusing him at all at the fact that what he enjoyed was now being used against him. Oh well. Dammit. |
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| Hemlock | Jun 9 2011, 03:57 PM Post #4 |
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Hemlock cast a puzzled look at the young boy. "Why is it such a hellish instrument? Is there something... else to it? Does it possess a magic of some sort?" Now his curiosity was piqued: What was special about this harp, and why did the young man speak with such a distaste for it? This still didn't change the fact that the young man hadn't answered his first statement yet. Now he had. And it wasn't the answer he needed to hear. "Look, young man... I have no problems with you personally. But, this dock is going to have to be cleared in half an hour. The people coming here are rather important, and one way or another, the area will be cleared for them when they arrive." The tall, pale man made a nod towards a group of Angkar's guard standing at the other end of the docks now, his forest green hair shifting in the breeze as his head moved. "And I'm sure that between myself and those gentlemen over there, we will have no problem moving you, if that's what it takes." His face had become stern over the course of saying this. He was not a cruel man by default, but it was clear that he would not hesitate to force Satsuyo out of the vicinity if it became necessary. And if he needed help... he had it. "But I sincerely hope it doesn't come to that." He went silent again, just staring at the ocean. He began to absentmindedly run his fingers over it, taking in the feel of the instrument. A couple times he even came close to nicking one of the string, but he never did... Yet. His fingers got closer and closer, and he was dangerously close to plucking the instrument, intentionally now... |
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| Hinge | Sep 22 2011, 01:18 PM Post #5 |
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"Why, yes, a... type of... magic," he sighed, he muttered, absentmindedly stroking the smooth gold surface of the instrument. "A curse, more like. You see, I am currently residing in the body of a young girl, who had been exposed to the curse and bound to the harp. I was inside that harp, and at a certain tune, our dominance over the body shifts... I currently have dominance." Shrugging his shoulders and shifting his weight from side to side, he tipped his head to the left, also being careful not to mention he was a demon... just in case. "Of course, that's not something I'd usually tell people but, eh, what's existence without a little risk?" Things had become excruciatingly boring anyway, he found no spice in his "life." In all of his other hosts, he'd always put up with imperfections that made everything difficult, whereas Satsue was extremely flawed, making him a bit of perfection. It was so... anti-climactic. He was sick of it. He wanted to kill her, and yet, at the same time, that perfection was what kept him from doing so--he'd never get a body like that again. It was frustrating--he wished that he didn't have to go back into the harp, didn't have to find another host, didn't have to keep relying on the existence of others in order to exist, himself. And yet, what would he do if he didn't have to? What would he do, then? There was no purpose for him in the world anymore. He had no goal, no aspirations. Looking up to the man with his black eyes, Satsuyo sighed and shook his head. "I'll move when I feel like it," he sneered. Opening his arms, he smirked with a dark, sad humor. "They can run me over if they like, I won't care. I won't feel it. I won't feel anything." Running his fingers through his long hair, he continued to shake his head. "Never do," he muttered, half to himself. He hated that. He wanted to feel again. He wanted to feel pain, cold, the hot stickiness of his own blood as it poured from gaping wounds that could endanger his life. That thrill, that emotion, that suffering. He desired it. "You know..." he began in reply to the man's last statement as he grazed his fingers over the strings of the harp, where Satsuyo shifted toward the man, allowing his fingers to pluck a single string--a regular one, however, nothing important. At that string, Satsuyo noticed it was the first note in a certain combination of a song he could play, which he quickly burst into, his fingers extremely fast and hard on the gentle instrument. The melody, infused with magic, shifted the form of the harp, giving it a razor edge, which as it appeared, the demon shifted back in a turn. "... I really wouldn't mind if it came to that. I'm... horribly bored of everything." Running a finger softly against the blade of the instrument, the blade cleanly cut a fine line down his finger, which began to drip with blood. "A little action never hurt. Heh." |
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