[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

[Laszlo] Because, in the end, I'll have wake up.

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Siofra on November 23rd, 2011, 7:31 pm

Fall 91st, 511 AV

When we start killing
It's all coming down right now
From the nightmare we've created,
I want to be awakened somehow


It still followed her, haunted her footsteps. Every day she looked out her window it was the first thing she saw. Every day she returned to the Inn it chased at her heels.

The House of Broken Mirrors had hungrily sought the Ethaefal the entirety of her time in Alvadas, unrelenting in it's obsession even after she and Ambrose had walked its halls and stared into its alluring horror. It had tried to show her something then, something to crack her and make her forget she was dreaming. She had stopped seeing after she had seen the moon, though.

Laughing, laughing. Always laughing at her. Mocking her. Abandoning her. Watching her.

In all of her life, short as it was, Siofra had know one to hold on to. No one to talk to who would understand and who wouldn't leave her after she had given parts of her she couldn't hope to reclaim. She only had the House. The House had never left her. It was the only thing here that seemed to even like her. Even if this was an illusion, a mockery of what her life had been, she had to appreciate the obsessive House that followed her. It was devoted, unlike most things.

As the sun set, her form shifted. Scales melted into wan flesh, fangs became teeth, muscle became sinew. She went from full snake to full 'human' within moments, her horns the last thing to touch her body. White hair, touched by strands of orange, and black horns with a faint gleam of yellow crowned her head. She could have been an entirely new person from the Ethaefal of Fall now that Winter breached the horizon. Her shift would complete as night progressed, she knew. She would know her body now, although she already had an idea.

The Ethaefal turned from the window and chittered at the ferret huddled under the bed. Her bags, packed and ready for another relocation, sat dejected upon the unused mattress. It had been such a waste to even buy the room, she reflected. It was nothing more than a retreat to her own miserable thoughts and dejected murmurs. She never slept but for a few occasions, and on each of those she was so conveniently not in bed.

Her room, now that she thought about it, was a place where she could be alone by herself and not be judged for it. It was where she could consider how to wake up and plot how to return to Leth's realm. She knew, after all, that this was nothing but a horrible nightmare. This loneliness didn't exist in the waking world. This terror, this rage, this misery.

"I'm going now," she said softly to the ferret, the one living thing that had stayed by her side in the night. She looked back out the window to that brooding house. "I'll try to be back by my shift's end. I want you to see it." Her eyes strayed to the moon.

Before she swept from the room, she reached to her backpack and drew from it a wrapped bundle. The ferret chittered at her as she left, hopping to the window and watching her through oddly glittering eyes.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

The Inn was quiet but for the gentle, unceasing rumble of shifting rooms. It was dead. Fitting, really, that she should be alone in the beginning and alone in the end.

Out in the street silvered by the moonlight and clotted by snow, empty but for the fading whisper of a pedestrian's gait. The House hadn't moved, not one inch, and it waited expectantly for her to enter and face the truth. Above it, the moon tilted in a leering smile. She couldn't look at it. She felt she would cry.

"I'll show you what it looks like, Father," she muttered as she passed across the street, ghostlike with her pale skin lit like the glass of Lhavit in the night contrasted by the dark wool of her cloak. Silent, she passed into the House. She didn't look behind her, didn't care if someone thought to look at her, to follow her, to care about her. She knew what she was. She knew what this was. For all she cared to know, she was asleep and the dream would end soon.

If the House would allow it.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?


OOCIt is now December, officially Winter in the Mizaharian calender. Siofra is no longer available to thread with for anyone after the end of Fall.
User avatar
Siofra
Help me... I'm afraid...
 
Posts: 83
Words: 48776
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2011, 4:59 pm
Location: Alvadas
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Scrapbook

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Laszlo on November 25th, 2011, 11:35 am

Laszlo was still in a mood.

It always came with the shifting seasons, his heightened Symenestran aggression. It had something to do with fertility and lunar cycles, Laszlo recalled, but he never exactly understood it. He simply became aware, through the first year of his life, that it was something he would occasionally have to deal with in his vespertine phase. In the daytime, he'd be perfectly fine, but for several consecutive nights during certain times of the year, Laszlo's temper would flare and there'd be little he could do to alleviate it.

These moods however were not at all conducive to his productivity as a bartender at the Sun and Stars tavern. For perhaps the fifth time tonight, Laszlo removed himself from the building and stepped outside for a breath of crisp, autumn air. The demands of his patrons inside the small, narrow tavern had chipped away at his already waning patience, and he left Seven Xu to tend to that lot. Laszlo was sure he was about to kill someone if he couldn't get a moment to himself.

Uttering a feral sigh of exasperation, the tall Symenestra slammed the tavern door shut behind him, stepping side to lean heavily on the black varnished façade of the building. The Fall chill clawed at him immediately, pressing through his clothing and seeping straight to his skin, causing a fierce shiver to travel through him. Though uncomfortable, he found the sensation oddly pleasing. The cold seemed to do something to soothe his irritation and slake his anger. Hiding under the insulating shell of his long, wool cloak, Laszlo eased his head back and closed his eyes, silver tresses sliding gently away from his face.

In the distance, a door closed.

Opening his keen, amethyst eyes, he turned to his right to see the Cubacious Inn just a block away, possibly the closest to the Sun and Stars it had ever been. For a while, that quixotic little place had been his temporary home, his first real shelter since he'd arrived to Alvadas out of the Unforgiving. Now a thin creature crept along the road, recently exiting the building. At first, Laszlo wasn't paying much attention to it—that is, until he realized she was sporting a set of horns glistening in the moonlight.

"Siofra?" Laszlo whispered to himself, fangs already well extended against his lip from powerful frustration. Now they tingled even more at the thought of her. Though she confused and burdened him, he found the wayward Ethaefal alluring in a way he couldn't quite describe. He was easily fond of her, even if he couldn't exactly understand the way she looked at the world as an inescapable nightmare. True, this existence did often feel like a dream, but it wasn't always a bad one.

The road beneath Laszlo's feet suddenly moved, accompanied by an unnerving crack. He looked down.

A spiderweb of lines had appeared around the soles of his boots, as if he were standing on a sheet of glass or thin ice. There was no explanation needed; this was Ionu's Alvadas, ever the trickster's paradise. A spike of fear shot through Laszlo's being. Even if the cracks were an illusion, there was no saying what would happen if he fell through the breaking street. If Ionu's illusions haplessly ended in someone's death, the god may not even blink an eye.

Was the road cracking for Siofra too? Laszlo glanced up again, but the lissome woman disappeared around the corner. He grimaced.

The street cracked a little more. Laszlo couldn't stay in this spot. He could well go back inside, but… the very thought of it made him grit his teeth. He'd almost rather take his chances with Alvadas' treacherous streets. There was still Siofra… where was she headed?

Deciding it was better to chase after her than to retreat into the maddening safety of his tavern, Laszlo pitched forward, jogging across the street toward where he'd seen Siofra walking. The road continued to splinter and crack, leaving a trail of shattered rock and broken earth in his wake. He was confident that, if he kept moving, the road would not break beneath him and swallow him whole. Laszlo's dark grey cloak swayed as he slowly ran after the woman, flickering like a tongue of flame behind him. His hair shook and bobbed upon the crown of his shoulders.

Turning the corner, he saw Siofra head into a large, foreboding building. The bright moonlight painted it well, and what he saw caused his steps to falter. The ground cracked urgently as he hesitated, his brow creasing. He'd seen this worn-down structure before: The House of Broken Mirrors. This was where he and Siofra first met.

Laszlo's foot fell through the road.

"Gah!" He stumbled away frantically, pulling himself quickly free from a black, unknown oblivion. The prospect of the House had always terrified Laszlo, for some unknown reason, but this was much more mortifying. The Ethaefal, swimming in a sudden panic, found himself in a choice between what looked like his imminent death, or some large building that had merely creeped him out. The second option also had Siofra. Quickly making his choice, Laszlo turned and headed straight for the House of Broken Mirrors, gliding easily with his long, thin legs along the breaking surface of the street.

Laszlo swung open the door, disturbing a hanging plaque that clapped against the wooden panels. Do Not Enter, it cheerily warned, or invited. It was difficult to know which, like everything else in this wretched place. Better here than the belly of the streets, in any case.

Thump. Laszlo shut the door behind him, quickly separating himself from the horror of the Alvadas roads. The echo reverberated through the interior of the old building with such volume that Laszlo was inspired to quickly turn around.

His own face stared back at him, looking frightened and impatient.

Only, that wasn't what his face was supposed to look like. Not this time of day. Laszlo's grayish amethysts stared into a gaze of glimmering gold, radiant as Syna's own light. His face was perfect and unblemished, half-brunet hair falling in a charmingly haphazard tumble around his face and a pair of green and red horns. It was his daytime phase reflecting back at him. Laszlo stared into it, nonplussed as he took several careful steps toward the reflective glass. Dayside-Laszlo reciprocated, acting dutifully as any reflection should.

Lifting one hand, Laszlo felt at the area next to his head where his horns would be, watching his fallen self do the same.

A cascade of echoing footsteps suddenly stole his attention.

"Siofra?" Laszlo called—as did his reflection. Audibly. Two sets of voices rang out for the daughter of Leth, surprising the Synaborn enough to make him jump. He turned back to his reflection and sent an accusing glare at the horned Laszlo. His reflection shrugged and offered a helpless smile.

Laszlo's eyes widened and he stepped away from the mirror immediately, scanning the darkness for Siofra with his gently shining eyes.

Alvadas, he rued inwardly.
In the daytime I am one of Syna's fallen.
At night, I am Symenestra.
User avatar
Laszlo
Team Imass!
 
Posts: 846
Words: 635811
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2011, 3:36 am
Location: Lhavit
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 5
Featured Character (1) Artist (1)
Overlored (1) Extreme Scrapbooker (1)
2011 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Siofra on November 28th, 2011, 3:46 pm

An echoing thud reverberated through the otherwise silent house, sending a terribly annoying creaking noise through the building's old bones. Siofra removed her gaze from the large mirror she stood before and looked around. The creaking seemed to surround her, as though the House wanted to break apart into a million tiny pieces. She felt a thrum of discomfort radiant in her body, and removed herself from the area quickly, hesitating once she'd heard her name called. In two voices, both familiar, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

Either he was here, right where she could use him, or Alvadas wanted her to think he was. Her gaze skewered another mirror, where dark shadow-puppets flitted about behind it and showed her something she had never thought she would see.

Within that helpless pane of glass resided her body, as it once had been. Calling out to Laszlo, or to the illusion of him, fell to the back of her mind as she reached to touch the mirror and perhaps grab that creature behind it, wrenching it from its haven and finding some way to return to that state. It reached to her as well, but as Siofra's fingers neared the shimmering surface, the image began to warp and deform.

Siofra recoiled in disgust at what she saw, the mirror-face only smiling icily. In comparison to what she once was, Siofra had to admit that the image now was inherently ugly. It was she as she was, plain and hideous, and Siofra felt herself grow angry.

"I am here, Laszlo," she called, her voice ringing clear against the creaking din that still consumed the area she had been standing. The cloth-wrapped item she held in her hand found itself stuck into the waist of her breeches, hidden away from that Syna-child's piercing eyes and questions. She looked back at the reflection, which smirked and shot her a sultry wink that Siofra found utterly repulsive. Her face didn't seem to do seduction right.

With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the image and stalked to the next mirror, seeking something she had no words to describe. Should her fellow Ethaefal find her, she would be seen stalking a long hallways filled with mirrors, some cracked while others subtly undulated as though made of water and not glass.

She found what she sought though in the fifth mirror down. In it was just the oddly lopsided moon, staring back at her from a blank white face. This mirror she reached out to touch, the mirrors on either side of it reacting in much the same way that the first had. One became Laszlo, an odd combination. He had those wide, sweeping horns set in a sea of silver hair. Fangs emerged from lips that shimmered a rosy colour and black nails adorned perfect fingers. It was unsettling, to say the least, as he reached out as well. And in the other mirror was that snake body woman that Siofra had found herself possessing, bleeding from where she had been stabbed during her life, her emerald eyes cold and cruel as she also reached outwards.

"What an interesting conflict we would have," Siofra said with a startling amusement in her voice. The mirror only bared her teeth in a grin.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?


OOCIt is now December, officially Winter in the Mizaharian calender. Siofra is no longer available to thread with for anyone after the end of Fall.
User avatar
Siofra
Help me... I'm afraid...
 
Posts: 83
Words: 48776
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2011, 4:59 pm
Location: Alvadas
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Scrapbook

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Laszlo on November 30th, 2011, 10:17 pm

Her voice came to him as if it were spoken by the wind, airy and light, and stretched out like overworn cotton. The sound drifted toward him from somewhere beyond a multifaceted wall of mirrors, trailed by a hushed cascade of strange whispers. Laszlo shivered, sufficiently unnerved by the unnatural lighting of the House, seeing perfectly well despite the absence of any torches, which offended his sensitive eyes so used to recognizing light. The endless echoes every image reflecting in every mirror made the room seem several times larger than it actually was, at the same time making the false Symenestra feel more trapped than he could ever remember.

Still, when given the option of this, the maddeningly loud tavern, or the crumbling streets that threatened to swallow him into oblivion, Laszlo would still rather be in this chilling place than anywhere else.

So he continued forward and followed the sound of Siofra's call, his footsteps echoing like a ticking clock in a long, vast hallway. His boot heels tapped against the wooden floor with frightening volume. Tap-taptaptap. It took him a moment to realize that the echo wasn't bouncing off the walls of the building, but resounding in every mirror he moved past. Alvadas was the explanation for all of it, but even if Laszlo was, by now, relatively accustomed to the city's tricks and games, this place seemed to unhinge something deep and primal in Laszlo's head, awakening an irrational fear that he couldn't reason with.

The reflections all toyed with him. Ahead, he could see himself—his true Ethaefal self—stepping down the corridor. Though the mirror did not move, the reflection did, angling upward and upward, as if the floor underneath his feet were shifting into an incline. It made him dizzy to watch, feeling as though he should be falling, but the old floorboards remained steady, and Laszlo simply forced himself to watch another mirror.

His Symenestra self resided inside it, standing perfectly still. The shadows behind him shifted rapdily, like a thick flock of black-feathered birds rushing past a window. He could almost hear their flapping wings and their chorus of deep throated cries. Ravens, he thought, like the one he'd taken his name from. In his peripheral vision, all of his blurred reflections were lying, moving in ways that Laszlo wasn't, making him turn to look, which he regretted doing every time.

Laszlo's keen eyes were even more reflective than the mirrors themselves, swallowing the provided light and reflecting it back again in the shadows, like the gaze of a wildcat poised behind a boulder, or the eyeshine of a rat under a bed. His own eyes lit up like a feral predator's gaze. Even if these were only reflections, illusions, his chest was tight with fear.

Siofra was here.

The perfect daughter of Leth stood in front of two long mirrors, each reflecting something totally different. In one was a large, snakelike creature, seeping blood from an open wound. The other displayed what looked a little like Laszlo himself, if his two forms merged into one. The Ethaefal were immaculate, and the Symenestra were handsome. Put together, the combination of the two was only disturbing.

For so long he dreaded coming in this place. Now he was finally sure that he was right in being apprehensive.

"Conflict…?" Laszlo asked her, turning his violet eyes onto the woman he hoped was real. He edged closer, fearing that Siofra herself was only the flat side of a mirror. Just as the reflections did before her, he reached out tentatively, offering her his hand. "I don't know what you mean. Siofra… is that really you? What are you doing in here?"
In the daytime I am one of Syna's fallen.
At night, I am Symenestra.
User avatar
Laszlo
Team Imass!
 
Posts: 846
Words: 635811
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2011, 3:36 am
Location: Lhavit
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 5
Featured Character (1) Artist (1)
Overlored (1) Extreme Scrapbooker (1)
2011 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Siofra on December 1st, 2011, 4:29 pm

"Yessss, conflict..." The mirror hissed. Siofra smiled slightly, pleased to recognise the accent she had found herself with during the day in the beginning. Atrocious though it was, it was pleasing to recall. The bloody Dhani grinned similarly and turned to the odd version of Laszlo in the mirror as Siofra turned to the Laszlo next to her, looking at his offered hand as though it were something foreign.

"You know, I saw you with her. With that woman," she said. Her snake self hissed the same in a garbled language of snarls and hisses no human, and certainly no Laszlo, could possibly understand. What a confusing occurrence. She ignored it. Her voice lowered from the usual high tones to something lower, something darker and angrier than anything she had summoned before. "Was I only a toy for you, son of Syna? Something to use and then discard like a tissue, or waste in a bucket? Is this why you left me that first night?" She stepped back before her voice could rise and she hit him, turning so her profile was shown to him. Her voice lowered further. "When I last came here, the mirrors showed me how I could wake up, rise from the sleep I was placed in. I wasn't strong enough then, but I am strong enough now. I've waited long enough, tried to find peace in this as you have, but I can't stand it any longer."

She turned her face, her dark eyes glittering with anger, excitement, doubt, confusion, and the insanity that had ruled every waking hour she spent alive in a fantasy. Her eyes looked him up and down, his familiar frame, which she had tasted and touched herself, dismissed as nothing more than a lie. A horrible picture planted in her mind by some cruel god for some unknown reason. Behind Laszlo, planted firmly in the mirror, was a picture of that girl. The one that had so easily won Laszlo's affections. She wished she could have had the pleasure of meeting the girl herself and erasing the threat she posed to this nightmare world.

Once again, she looked at Laszlo and met his eyes, and a smirk curled her lips. He was so lovely, and she had stayed to try and find peace for him, but she resented it now. He wasn't real, never could be, and had seduced her into dwelling longer in something she could never love. A hand slid into the fold of her breech's waistband and removed that cloth-wrapped bundle, her nimble fingers opening the fold of fabric to reveal the unused blade Siofra had purchased just the day before for this reason alone.

Long fingers curled against the hilt, catching a firm grip on the unfamiliar surface, and she faced Laszlo, holding the blade towards him in a threatening manner. "This is a dream, a nightmare, and it will never end if I stay here and listen to you. It will eat me and drown me, and the moon will always laugh at me. Now, Laszlo, I will wake up." She turned the blade to herself, moving to shove it into her breast.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?


OOCIt is now December, officially Winter in the Mizaharian calender. Siofra is no longer available to thread with for anyone after the end of Fall.
User avatar
Siofra
Help me... I'm afraid...
 
Posts: 83
Words: 48776
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2011, 4:59 pm
Location: Alvadas
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Scrapbook

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Laszlo on December 2nd, 2011, 2:39 am

In the smoky haze of the room and its many laughing reflections, something glinted brightly from Siofra's waistline. Laszlo's sharp eyes darted toward it, immediately recognizing the broad side of a knife's blade. The sting of primal, irrational fear in the pit of Laszlo's stomach receded, giving way to a much more real terror. The woman was holding a weapon, not so unlike the one Seven had wielded against the kelvic in his bedroom. The one he'd cut her throat with.

There had been so much blood. Laszlo couldn't bear to see that again. But this time, who was the one in danger?

He took a cautious step backward as that blade was pointed toward him. A shaky breath escaped his parted lips as he sorted through his confusion. Siofra's words made little sense, but he recognized what she meant by that woman. Abalia. Laszlo had kissed her deeply in the middle of an afternoon street, where anyone could have been watching. He had feared that Seven or Victor might see. Never did it cross his mind that Siofra might be there. It never occurred to him that it might hurt her. Was she this angry about it, that she…

She lifted the knife with both, holding the away from her body, the tip of the blade pointed at her chest.

"Wait… wait, Siofra! No, don't!" Forgetting about the deception of the mirrors all around him, the Symenestra bolted forward on his long, graceful legs. It didn't matter whether this was real or not, whether what he was heading for was the hard face of a mirror, he couldn't simply let this happen. Almost to his surprise, his clawed, outstretched hand closed around a solid, warm wrist. Siofra staggered backward as Laszlo bore down her, taking both of her thin, weak arms in his slender hands. Unaware of the furor of his efforts, two of his black nails cut into her skin, leaving modest red lines in their wake. She struggled against him briefly, but he held her still, prying her hands apart and holding them away from her. She still clutched at the knife with one small hand, innocent porcelain closed around an object so wicked.

Laszlo stared at the knife for half a moment, breathing in exasperation before turning to her. He'd felt these wrists in his hands before. Felt her fingertips on his back, kneading pleasure out of him. How could this be happening now?

"I'm sorry!" Laszlo gasped at her, his features in shock around his wide, amethyst eyes. Much of his dark silver hair had become dislodged from behind both ears, and framed his narrow face. He tried to digest what Siofra had told him, about "waking up", and "being used". Momentarily at a loss for words, he stared into her dark, silver-split eyes, afraid of the darkness that was swimming behind them. His lips formed an excuse tangled with his desperation. "You were never a toy to me, Siofra. I only wanted to help you. We're the same, you and I! I can help, if you let me!"

While he had felt a twinge of guilt moving from person to person in his oddly spontaneous romantic life, he never thought it was something anyone would take so seriously. Exclusivity, monogamy, love, these were all foreign things to him. "You're a child of Leth, you're my sister in this. We need to stay together, to help each other. That woman doesn't compare to you. You're perfect. I… I need you."

Violet eyes slanted off the malicious glint of Siofra's sharp, virgin knife. That silver tongue, promising to deliver her from this nightmare. Did she really believe that firmly that none of this was real? Laszlo may have agreed seasons ago, but now he was sure he understood the world, and why he was here. It didn't make it any easier to swallow, and he could understand why Siofra might have taken her delusion to an extreme. He didn't want this fate either.

But that knife wouldn't help her. It would only kill her.

Laszlo turned back to her, softening his grip on her wrists. "Siofra… this isn't a dream. This is life, this is your life. You can do whatever you want with it, you have the freedom to do anything. But please… don't throw it away. It won't achieve anything."
In the daytime I am one of Syna's fallen.
At night, I am Symenestra.
User avatar
Laszlo
Team Imass!
 
Posts: 846
Words: 635811
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2011, 3:36 am
Location: Lhavit
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 5
Featured Character (1) Artist (1)
Overlored (1) Extreme Scrapbooker (1)
2011 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Siofra on December 2nd, 2011, 4:32 pm

A gasp escaped her parted lips as his claws neatly cut into her skin, awakening the flow of blood beneath them. She was taught from excitement, nerves frayed, and the pain caught her off guard. She fought him only weakly, but gave in to his strength with a dark glower, holding the knife tighter in her hand until the knuckles whitened further. She would take the first opportunity to cut him, she resolved.

She watched the emotions playing across his features, in his eyes. The shock, the horror, the fear. He didn't care, though. Nothing in his face convinced her that she did matter and that he was doing this, stopping her, for someone other than himself. He was afraid she was going to escape, and every word spoken in that smooth voice that had so easily wooed her once, a lifetime ago, had no effect on her feelings now. She couldn't allow her will to weaken, or she would be trapped, caged forever like a bird with clipped wings in a cage. Dark eyes, framed by almost-snow eyelashes half closed as she considered his words, silent, tempted to laugh and spit at him and have him kill her instead. It would be easier that way.

"Don't lie so hard, Laszlo, or you might start to believe it. What you feel for her, that human, is much more than what you've shown to me. I would kill her if I had the chance to show you it didn't matter whether you hallucinations lived or died here. You can't help me, unless you wake me yourself. But I doubt it... You've only sought to keep me trapped here all along."

She narrowed her dark eyes, focused her djed through them, and placed the thought in his head to let her go, screaming it so he would at least start in shock, and if he managed to keep his poise, she would renew her struggle in his slackened hold, wielding a much stronger bone density than even he, with his sleek muscles. One hand, the one free of the knife, escaped, and she lashed out with the intent to slap him as hard as she could, killing him if she had to and if he was weak enough. He would stop her if he was quick, his claws snicking as they closed around her wrist in a familiar hold that now felt cold and disgusting instead of wonderful.

"We are nothing alike!" She screeched. The mirrors on either side watched, smirking, laughing, screaming, worried, horrified. Alvadas had allowed the House to go silent in their strife, yet it watched raptly, hunger behind every set of eyes within every mirror. Siofra was aware of this dimly. "You aren't even real! Now let me GO!" She kicked, aiming for the juncture between his legs. Perhaps she could disable that most used organ in his body for a while, teach him to play with people and their feelings before she left.

Perhaps she should kill him, however, and prove her worth in escaping the dream. His words had lost their meaning, she had found a new purpose. She would end the flame of his illusion, cast him down and then kill herself. She had shifted now, was in her full Winter phase, but she had no thought of allowing Leth nor the ferret to see what she looked like. Alvadas would have that gift.

If she managed to escape his hold, she would hold the knife more readily and step closer, the blade glinting cruelly in a million reflections. The House was having fun as it watched her bare down at the slender, tall man who sought so hard to hold her in his fantasy world. "Time to wake up, Laszlo. If you're anything like me, you'll thank me."

She growled, her eyes darkened with a rage and a terrible misery as she stabbed at him, the blade alien to her even as she attacked.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?


OOCIt is now December, officially Winter in the Mizaharian calender. Siofra is no longer available to thread with for anyone after the end of Fall.
User avatar
Siofra
Help me... I'm afraid...
 
Posts: 83
Words: 48776
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2011, 4:59 pm
Location: Alvadas
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Scrapbook

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Laszlo on December 2nd, 2011, 5:22 pm

Let go of her!!

The words rattled in his head, roaring above every other thought, causing Laszlo to cringe violently. It had sounded like his voice, but… no other part of him was at all intending to release her. He was not about to let her harm herself, or attack him. It didn't make sense! The thought was so random and so unnatural that he railed against it, wondering at first if the House of Broken Mirrors itself was responsible. But… no, this seemed more like what he'd done with Seven when… yes, and the way Siofra's eyes had looked just now. He knew this, because he himself had done it!

It was hypnotism! It had to be!

"You're a—" Whapf! The flat of Siofra's palm connected with Laszlo's cheek and jaw, throwing him momentarily off-balance and forcing his feet the shuffle. She'd hit him hard, and a wave of shock, followed by pain traveled through his skull, creating an instant, pounding headache. For a moment, aware of his Symenestra fragility, it frightened him. When his jaw didn't feel immediately broken, he growled lowly, baring his teeth and fangs. His long, thin hand grabbed for her wrist again, this time squeezing painfully tight to ensure she wouldn't break free again.

She shrieked at him, but he didn't care. Laszlo breathed through his teeth, reined anger pulsing in his sharp, violet eyes. His temper was still on edge, and Siofra attempting to hypnotize him, and then slapping him, had brought it dangerously close to boiling over. She was daft! Siofra had tried to commit suicide, Laszlo was only trying to help her. He kept her ensnared, regarding her like a caged animal, too panicked to know that this was only for her own good.

The mirrors around him were all doing strange things, only further frustrating him. Couldn't anything be simple in this damned city?! The streets were crumbling the mirrors were chittering, and Siofra was having some sort of fit. He became aware, now, that his claws were cutting into the girl's perfect skin, but he didn't relent. The headache from her jarring slap was eating up any modicum of remorse.

Siofra spat at him more of her nonsense. His glare only narrowed. "Stop talking like that! What do you mean I'm not—!" The rest of his question was extinguished in a breathless cough, and immediately he let go of Siofra's arms. A tight, powerful pain seized him from his groin upward, pulling him down to his knees as both hands flew down to protect the area where he was most vulnerable. Though her kick had been slightly off the mark, much of his inner thigh taking the brunt of her foot, she had still hit him quite hard where she had been aiming. He pitched forward, catching himself with the broad side of one forearm as he knelt on the floor, coughing and gasping as the pain began to breed nausea in the pit of his stomach.

"P-Petching… bitch… I was… nng." Each, venomous word was threaded through the pressure of his extended fangs. Whatever was left of Laszlo's patience was gone. He was sure his cheek would bruise, but whatever pain had been in his head became entirely forgotten about. Now, he was angry. He'd trusted this woman, and now he was taking a beating from her? To hell with her. If she came here to be suicidal, then Lhex willing, let her do as she pleased. He didn't need to be here, he didn't have to help her! If she was going to fight him this much, then it wasn't worth it.

"Time to wake up, Laszlo."

Something odd about Siofra's voice inspired him to look up. Not at her, but in her million reflections scattered all around them. He could see the knife she was holding, raised above her head, and aimed at him. Laszlo's heart skipped a beat as that glare flashed across his face, while his eyes widened in pure horror. She looked like a beautiful agent of death, ready to perform her duty and claim her prize. That wasn't Siofra. That was his murderer.

No.

The knife came down, and Laszlo rolled onto his back, reaching his arms out to stop her. He grabbed her for wrist, but she was moving too quickly, so he missed and knocked her arm aside instead. The knife's path erred and stabbed into the floor beside his ribs with a loud thud. Before she could move away, Laszlo grabbed at her again, his thin fingers closing again around her weak, tiny wrist. His other hand also caught Siofra's second limb holding her captive as she knelt down above him. Her face was filled with so much darkness and despair, her eyes like black pits, thirsting to taste his soul. A hot mixture of anger and fear raged beneath Laszlo's fierce violet eyes, but he was aghast at the look in Siofra's perfect features. She looked empty, like a monster craving to spill blood. This wasn't the woman who once whispered his name sweetly in his ear.

A moment later, as the pain from his groin finally receded, he felt a sharp, nagging sensation along the side of his rib cage. As Laszlo picked up Siofra's knife hand, lifting it away from him, he grunted. The blade had grazed him, cutting through his shirt and opening a shallow slice in his skin. It hurt, and he could feel the fabric of his shirt becoming warm and heavy with moisture, but he knew that he was lucky that the Ethaefal hadn't outright killed him just now.

"What in Leth's name are you doing, woman?!" he hissed at her, squeezing her wrists so tightly that it hurt his own hands. He half expected to feel bones snapping. "Did you just try to kill me?! What is this nonsense, of course I'm real! I'm more real than anyone you know!" Laszlo pushed the floor with his feet, trying to gain some leverage with his legs to pull himself into a sitting position. If he was going to argue with this woman, he would at least be at eye level. He wouldn't have this beast bearing down on him, like a wildcat pinning a goat. "You're mad! What happened to you?!" He knew the answer, but he was afraid to acknowledge it. This existence had driven her insane. Perhaps she was beyond redemption.

Laszlo would be lucky to leave here with his life.
Last edited by Laszlo on January 8th, 2012, 2:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
In the daytime I am one of Syna's fallen.
At night, I am Symenestra.
User avatar
Laszlo
Team Imass!
 
Posts: 846
Words: 635811
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2011, 3:36 am
Location: Lhavit
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 5
Featured Character (1) Artist (1)
Overlored (1) Extreme Scrapbooker (1)
2011 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Siofra on December 2nd, 2011, 8:16 pm

She had nearly killed him before he stopped her! A shiver trailed her spine as she saw the look in his face, her fear becoming known only to her now as he once again took control, capturing her hands. How much she wished for things to be simple, so she could believe Laszlo and be content and happy like every other meaningless little nitwit running around. She couldn't though, she knew too much. She needed to get out before it smothered her.

And then pain enveloped her wrists. His hands had once brought her so much pleasure, and she found it to be morbidly amusing that they could provide her with such a pain as this. It was as though he were trying to crush them, cutting the blood flow from the already bloody extremities. It hurt so much that the knife clattered to the blood-tainted floorboards, lost from the safety of numbed fingertips.

Raging dark eyes met with the fierce violets of her once-again captor, and Siofra thought to use her forehead against his face this time, but the sight of the blemish on her cheek caused her to feel awkwardly remorseful. She regretted hurting him, but it had to be done. If killing him was the only way she could escape, then he had to die and it would have been no use caring whether he was hurt or not.

She looked away from him, turning her face and finding their reflection in one of the mirrors as it properly should be, shadows stirring in the distance. He had horns, she had horns, and they were as she should be. She wanted to go back to that life, that heavenly purity she couldn't find anywhere on this torn land. One silver tear actually trickled down from the corner of her eye, the misery overwhelming the anger for just a brief moment at the sight. Now, she knew what Laszlo had been like in his true home. If only she could be that bright and hopeful.

She didn't look at the physical Laszlo holding her, her mind lost in that reality the mirror showed her. It enthralled her utterly and made her weep for something that could never have been.

"I just want to wake up," she said quietly. That crazed edge to her voice had dimmed in her despair and loss. "I can't stand this anymore... I need to go home, and if you were real you would understand this."

She finally looked at him again, and the sight of his Symenestra face, the first face she had ever touched intimately, caused a snake of anger to wiggle its way in her. If he were real, killing him would do him a favour. "Let me go, Laszlo," she said slowly, each word spoke coldly and sharply. She meant it in more ways than the obvious, but she still had ever intention of taking him out of this nightmare with her, before it consumed his sanity as well and caused his nights to be devoted to the memory of times best left forgotten.

The Ethaefal struggled again, much weaker than before. Her already little strength was lagging, her thin limbs unable to do much but faintly thrash and tug. It still hurt. So much. Bruises would form like manacles around her slender wrists, the bones would crack under the pressure, and his claws would cut across the blue lines under her skin and drain her of her blood. Perhaps she could use that.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?


OOCIt is now December, officially Winter in the Mizaharian calender. Siofra is no longer available to thread with for anyone after the end of Fall.
User avatar
Siofra
Help me... I'm afraid...
 
Posts: 83
Words: 48776
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2011, 4:59 pm
Location: Alvadas
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Scrapbook

[House of Broken Mirrors] Dreaming Your Dreams

Postby Laszlo on December 3rd, 2011, 8:54 am

Those slowly spoken, liquid words that poured from Siofra's mouth did not convince Laszlo to let go of her murderous hands. Her practiced, yet irrational tone of voice only stoked his leashed rage, twisting and writhing inside of him as he ached to hurt her in retaliation. He knew his hands were doing some harm to her arms, and he was glad of it. He had once held her so tenderly, spoken such sweet words in her ear, felt her warm from the inside, and now it had come to this. It wasn't fair for things to turn out the way they had, not for him and especially not for her.

Both Ethaefal were facing the same fate. How could it be so much harder for Siofra to accept what she was? Where she now existed?

Certainly Laszlo had considered suicide before, condemning his life as hell and even cursing Syna for ever letting him fall from the ukalas. What he knew however, very clearly and often repeatedly, was that Laszlo was afraid of dying. Whether it was some unintentional, instinctive feeling programmed into his flesh, or a sign of something greater, his mortal mind couldn't be sure. What he learned, however, was that fear was a useful tool. It kept him safe, kept him alive. When the feeling was this great, he listened to fear, heeded its advice. It told him he didn't want to die.

Should he ever change his mind, Laszlo would see to his own death. Siofra would not take that from him.

It was her struggling that convince Laszlo to let go of her. Symenestra or not, he was in charge of his own soul. No matter how angry he was, he wasn't someone who hurt people. There was no profit in the suffering of others. Live and let live, that was his creed. He'd never insert himself into the affairs of others, good or bad, unless it somehow involved him. Indifference was not the same as apathy, however. He remembered the bruise left on Abalia after striking her cheek, and felt a sting in his heart. Laszlo would not see another woman so badly bruised because he couldn't contain his temper.

Keeping to the side of caution Laszlo heaved at Siofra's weight, throwing her wrists back at her and aiming to send her rolling across the floor. Momentarily left alone, he painstakingly set up and grabbed for the dagger she's dropped on the wooden planks. With the weapon safely in his hand, he pushed himself slowly to his feet. A headache returned to haunt the sharp edges of his skull, his groin ached, and a sharp pain continued to nag at his side, but at least he could stand.

"I'm done," Laszlo breathed hotly, holding his free hand over the bleeding wound on the side of his ribcage. "Obviously, you won't listen to reason. You want to kill yourself, Siofra? Do it. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I tried, I honestly did."

He hesitated, looking downward. Sharpened nails played thoughtfully at the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tightened its white digits around the hilt of the dagger, without so much as a whisper of intention to return the dagger to her. She would probably only do something stupid with it if he let her have it. Still, his words had been harsh. It might not be wise to be so stern with you.

"It's not too late," the false Symenestra said, this time a little softer, violet eyes glancing back up. He dared not look away now fearful that the reflections of the House would swallow her if he lost sight of her. "If you still want me to help, I'll do it. Just let me put my arms around you. I can take you to my room at the tavern. I can love you, like Leth loves you. Just… calm down. Take a moment. Breathe."
In the daytime I am one of Syna's fallen.
At night, I am Symenestra.
User avatar
Laszlo
Team Imass!
 
Posts: 846
Words: 635811
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2011, 3:36 am
Location: Lhavit
Race: Ethaefal
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Medals: 5
Featured Character (1) Artist (1)
Overlored (1) Extreme Scrapbooker (1)
2011 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Next

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests