Re: Vendetta [S!2 Round 1 ~ Presidentialgon]
01-20-2012, 12:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Antarctic Wolf.
Smooth, shining, silvery, pristine walls suddenly surrounded Altara when before there had been strangers. Strange unfaltering candles in the ceiling completely illuminated the room which was no more than a couple of strides in length or width. Not a single object adorned the room, only a small decorated panel beside a long vertical slit in one wall made any break in the uniformity. There were no shadows but then again, why would there be? After all, she had no body, she was just a ghost.
A singular chime of a bell arose from nowhere and the slitted wall in front of her began to widen. The figure of a woman stretched its way across the floor as its owner stepped through the doorway. Her face was shadowed by a familiar hat and she wore grey from her wrists to her knees; every aspect of her feminine figure was accentuated by the sharp lines of her clothing. Altara shook her head, the woman’s immodesty was irrelevant, the only thing that mattered right was how attentive she was and whether she would notice the pale shimmering light where Altara stood. Her heels clacked sharply on the floor as the woman swivelled to face the decorative panel beside the door, muttering under her breath. Something in its cadence was frighteningly familiar. Intrigued, she made her decision—she had ended up here, somehow, because of her wish to reclaim her memories and here— right before her stood the first step on that path, tantalising her with her foreign and yet strangely familiar tongue. Now, strike her now, her instincts called out, she’s ripe for the picking.
With the silent grace only a ghost could muster, Altara glided up to the woman and stuck her with a mind like a dagger. The woman gasped, her eyes flew wide and her hands struck out in search of stability. She was awake, aware and desperately fighting for control yet her mind was dull, weak and she had been too slow. Her body abruptly slumped to the floor; its eyes fogged over as the last light of its consciousness faded away, Mrs. Rensfield was no more. Altara tore the final pieces of her opponent’s mind to shreds, the memories were now hers and even if she left the body, its occupant would only be a shadow of its former self. It was necessary, it had to be done she conceded, the information she had learned was indeed invaluable, who would have thought that these people would speak a language so like her long lost mother-tongue, Latin?
Using her newfound knowledge, Altara strode out of the room which she now knew to be an elevator. Walking and without the presence of its original mind, the body began to conform to its new owner’s appearance, readjusting its features to that of a softer, more youthful one; whilst this rearrangement was an unsettling feeling, it wasn’t the problem. She was growing slightly; to a height of 5”8 and her thinner, more delicate body found her current-clothes ill-fitting. Glancing around with a slight blush blooming in her cheeks, Altara spied a pair of soft white curtains tethered open with golden rope. Keeping her skirt up with one hand she fished out the fine, ornate dagger which had been strapped to her leg. What a thoughtful wedding gift she mused as she set to work, heedless of the escalating noises of violence and destruction in the distance. Once she finished she would head to the depths of this facility she decided. Everything about that level was highly classified and, according to her memories, anything classified in this place meant powerful. Well, she grinned, why leave something unknown when I have the means to find out?
Smooth, shining, silvery, pristine walls suddenly surrounded Altara when before there had been strangers. Strange unfaltering candles in the ceiling completely illuminated the room which was no more than a couple of strides in length or width. Not a single object adorned the room, only a small decorated panel beside a long vertical slit in one wall made any break in the uniformity. There were no shadows but then again, why would there be? After all, she had no body, she was just a ghost.
A singular chime of a bell arose from nowhere and the slitted wall in front of her began to widen. The figure of a woman stretched its way across the floor as its owner stepped through the doorway. Her face was shadowed by a familiar hat and she wore grey from her wrists to her knees; every aspect of her feminine figure was accentuated by the sharp lines of her clothing. Altara shook her head, the woman’s immodesty was irrelevant, the only thing that mattered right was how attentive she was and whether she would notice the pale shimmering light where Altara stood. Her heels clacked sharply on the floor as the woman swivelled to face the decorative panel beside the door, muttering under her breath. Something in its cadence was frighteningly familiar. Intrigued, she made her decision—she had ended up here, somehow, because of her wish to reclaim her memories and here— right before her stood the first step on that path, tantalising her with her foreign and yet strangely familiar tongue. Now, strike her now, her instincts called out, she’s ripe for the picking.
With the silent grace only a ghost could muster, Altara glided up to the woman and stuck her with a mind like a dagger. The woman gasped, her eyes flew wide and her hands struck out in search of stability. She was awake, aware and desperately fighting for control yet her mind was dull, weak and she had been too slow. Her body abruptly slumped to the floor; its eyes fogged over as the last light of its consciousness faded away, Mrs. Rensfield was no more. Altara tore the final pieces of her opponent’s mind to shreds, the memories were now hers and even if she left the body, its occupant would only be a shadow of its former self. It was necessary, it had to be done she conceded, the information she had learned was indeed invaluable, who would have thought that these people would speak a language so like her long lost mother-tongue, Latin?
Using her newfound knowledge, Altara strode out of the room which she now knew to be an elevator. Walking and without the presence of its original mind, the body began to conform to its new owner’s appearance, readjusting its features to that of a softer, more youthful one; whilst this rearrangement was an unsettling feeling, it wasn’t the problem. She was growing slightly; to a height of 5”8 and her thinner, more delicate body found her current-clothes ill-fitting. Glancing around with a slight blush blooming in her cheeks, Altara spied a pair of soft white curtains tethered open with golden rope. Keeping her skirt up with one hand she fished out the fine, ornate dagger which had been strapped to her leg. What a thoughtful wedding gift she mused as she set to work, heedless of the escalating noises of violence and destruction in the distance. Once she finished she would head to the depths of this facility she decided. Everything about that level was highly classified and, according to her memories, anything classified in this place meant powerful. Well, she grinned, why leave something unknown when I have the means to find out?