Re: MORITURI TE SALUTANT!! [S!4]
10-06-2012, 08:37 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
“What do you think, Stephan?”
“How crass, Mademoiselle. How… eh. What to expect from petite bourgeoisie?”
She smiled and batted her eyes at the bird nestled on her sleeve. “Would you prefer a change of scenery, my sweet?”
“Perhaps.”
Her eyes bored into the iridescent back of the bird as it idly examined the orb floating above the Haruspex’s lap, watching a victorious Chad perform some vulgar dance moves atop the atomized corpses of the two serpents. A slight smile slid onto her face. “Somewhere more familiar?”
“Do you what you will, Mademoiselle.”
She bent her lips to the bird’s head and softly ruffled its crest with her breath. “Il Maledicta?”
The hummingbird blurred for an instant and then was suddenly facing her, silvery beak biting into her cheek. “Mademoiselle-!”
<font color="#919968">The Haruspex giggled girlishly and tossed the bird into the air. Its wings shimmered into motion and it began to angrily dart back and forth before her, sprinkles of white powder falling from its wig. “Il Maledicta,” it bemoaned. “You go too far, Mademoiselle, too far. I know what you seek there. You cannot-“
A spidery hand shot out and snatched the hummingbird from the air, trapping it in a cage of bones. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Stephan,” she hissed, and clenched her fist. The sound of tiny bones cracking echoed across the atrium. “The theater is such a lovely place to spend an afternoon. Costumes and stage powder and lights!” She leaned back and sighed. “I always used to wish I’d gone into a thespian life, you know. A silly girlhood dream of mine.” She giggled again and pouted her lips at a mirror that vanished as soon as she looked away. “Oh, I was such a child back then.”
She flicked her fingers and a mass of feathers and blood condensed back into a greenish hummingbird, now flying with a slight tilt. A deep crack bisected one of its diamond eyes. “The theater, Stephan. And a very special guest.”
“Imago’s debt to me is paid.” The bird came to an unsteady landing on the Haruspex’s shoulder, eyes scattering miniature rainbows across her neck.
“But I own you, Stephan, and your debts, and I say that it isn’t.” She wiped her fingers clean on the arm of her throne. “He’s stolen from us. That must be accounted for.”
“Mademoiselle, I mean no offense,” the hummingbird said carefully, “But the Court is not agreeable to outside interference. To send your guests to one of its members…”
“Fie on your Court. A bunch of doddering old fools and bitches in wigs! Don’t you worry your precious head, Stephan. They won’t miss another figurehead.”
The bird said nothing, only shaking its head sadly as its broken eye rattled in its socket. “As you wish, Mademoiselle.”
At the touch of the Haruspex’s fingers the orb on her lap flared into a brilliant gold and filled the atrium with a burning, blinding light that washed all the color from the mirrored walls and pierced through their bodies into the marble floors. As it drained, six figures staggered into view and froze before they could take a full step, hanging in awkward positions as the Haruspex cleared her throat pointlessly.
“Only six left?” she said, regarding the ragtag crew before her. “Disappointing. We’ll pick up another. I have a very special treat planned for you all, now, and won’t it just be the most delightful experience you’ll ever have!” She gestured obliquely; the orb sailed into the air, pulsed, and swelled to encompass the whole of the atrium ceiling. Within its fog there emerged the image of an ancient and impossibly decadent theater, evidently left in ill repair for at least at century or more and top-heavy with gold statuettes and trite murals of dancing Muses. As the orb’s focus tightened it became apparent that the faint points of light some of the contestants had mistaken for reflections were in fact windows crudely hacked out of the theater’s walls, clustered by the hundreds across the gargantuan structure’s surface.
“Il Maledicta,” the Haruspex said. “Once the most beautiful and expensive theater in the seven worlds, now only a depressing wreck of its former self. Such a shame no one has told the actors! All of the playbooks are, sadly, mere forgeries, but I am sure nevertheless that you’ll find it a thoroughly interesting evening. And, one more thing…”
“Mademoiselle-“
“Hush, Stephan. Somewhere in Il Maledicta is a man, well, a sort of man by the name of Imago Dei.” The orb’s fogs devoured the theater and peeled away from a new image, oddly faded and pale: a very tall and almost dangerously thin man dressed in slightly tattered French court clothing, an extravagant powdered wig affixed to his head. His face was chalk-white and bore no features but for a single black dot in its middle and a wide, self-satisfied smile. His image wavered and he seemed about to turn towards the contestants before he disappeared abruptly, belatedly followed by a wave of fog. The orb shivered and resumed its normal size, coming down to rest just behind the Haruspex’s head.
“Imago is a very old friend of Stephan’s, you know,” she said loftily. “Which is why you must find him, and kill him, and take what he owes us. Someone in Il Maledicta must know where he is. After all, he’s a rather curious fellow. But you’ve all got ample time to discover that, don’t you? Now off with you! And try not to be so overzealous this time.”
With a loud thunderclap the contestants disappeared, leaving the Haruspex and the bird alone in the atrium. She laughed and stroked its feathery back, ignoring the creature’s words. “A member of the Court,” it was saying. “They will all die. That theater will burn. A member of the Court.”
“I should have made you a songbird, Stephan,” she giggled, “You do like to go on and on.” </font>
“What do you think, Stephan?”
“How crass, Mademoiselle. How… eh. What to expect from petite bourgeoisie?”
She smiled and batted her eyes at the bird nestled on her sleeve. “Would you prefer a change of scenery, my sweet?”
“Perhaps.”
Her eyes bored into the iridescent back of the bird as it idly examined the orb floating above the Haruspex’s lap, watching a victorious Chad perform some vulgar dance moves atop the atomized corpses of the two serpents. A slight smile slid onto her face. “Somewhere more familiar?”
“Do you what you will, Mademoiselle.”
She bent her lips to the bird’s head and softly ruffled its crest with her breath. “Il Maledicta?”
The hummingbird blurred for an instant and then was suddenly facing her, silvery beak biting into her cheek. “Mademoiselle-!”
<font color="#919968">The Haruspex giggled girlishly and tossed the bird into the air. Its wings shimmered into motion and it began to angrily dart back and forth before her, sprinkles of white powder falling from its wig. “Il Maledicta,” it bemoaned. “You go too far, Mademoiselle, too far. I know what you seek there. You cannot-“
A spidery hand shot out and snatched the hummingbird from the air, trapping it in a cage of bones. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Stephan,” she hissed, and clenched her fist. The sound of tiny bones cracking echoed across the atrium. “The theater is such a lovely place to spend an afternoon. Costumes and stage powder and lights!” She leaned back and sighed. “I always used to wish I’d gone into a thespian life, you know. A silly girlhood dream of mine.” She giggled again and pouted her lips at a mirror that vanished as soon as she looked away. “Oh, I was such a child back then.”
She flicked her fingers and a mass of feathers and blood condensed back into a greenish hummingbird, now flying with a slight tilt. A deep crack bisected one of its diamond eyes. “The theater, Stephan. And a very special guest.”
“Imago’s debt to me is paid.” The bird came to an unsteady landing on the Haruspex’s shoulder, eyes scattering miniature rainbows across her neck.
“But I own you, Stephan, and your debts, and I say that it isn’t.” She wiped her fingers clean on the arm of her throne. “He’s stolen from us. That must be accounted for.”
“Mademoiselle, I mean no offense,” the hummingbird said carefully, “But the Court is not agreeable to outside interference. To send your guests to one of its members…”
“Fie on your Court. A bunch of doddering old fools and bitches in wigs! Don’t you worry your precious head, Stephan. They won’t miss another figurehead.”
The bird said nothing, only shaking its head sadly as its broken eye rattled in its socket. “As you wish, Mademoiselle.”
At the touch of the Haruspex’s fingers the orb on her lap flared into a brilliant gold and filled the atrium with a burning, blinding light that washed all the color from the mirrored walls and pierced through their bodies into the marble floors. As it drained, six figures staggered into view and froze before they could take a full step, hanging in awkward positions as the Haruspex cleared her throat pointlessly.
“Only six left?” she said, regarding the ragtag crew before her. “Disappointing. We’ll pick up another. I have a very special treat planned for you all, now, and won’t it just be the most delightful experience you’ll ever have!” She gestured obliquely; the orb sailed into the air, pulsed, and swelled to encompass the whole of the atrium ceiling. Within its fog there emerged the image of an ancient and impossibly decadent theater, evidently left in ill repair for at least at century or more and top-heavy with gold statuettes and trite murals of dancing Muses. As the orb’s focus tightened it became apparent that the faint points of light some of the contestants had mistaken for reflections were in fact windows crudely hacked out of the theater’s walls, clustered by the hundreds across the gargantuan structure’s surface.
“Il Maledicta,” the Haruspex said. “Once the most beautiful and expensive theater in the seven worlds, now only a depressing wreck of its former self. Such a shame no one has told the actors! All of the playbooks are, sadly, mere forgeries, but I am sure nevertheless that you’ll find it a thoroughly interesting evening. And, one more thing…”
“Mademoiselle-“
“Hush, Stephan. Somewhere in Il Maledicta is a man, well, a sort of man by the name of Imago Dei.” The orb’s fogs devoured the theater and peeled away from a new image, oddly faded and pale: a very tall and almost dangerously thin man dressed in slightly tattered French court clothing, an extravagant powdered wig affixed to his head. His face was chalk-white and bore no features but for a single black dot in its middle and a wide, self-satisfied smile. His image wavered and he seemed about to turn towards the contestants before he disappeared abruptly, belatedly followed by a wave of fog. The orb shivered and resumed its normal size, coming down to rest just behind the Haruspex’s head.
“Imago is a very old friend of Stephan’s, you know,” she said loftily. “Which is why you must find him, and kill him, and take what he owes us. Someone in Il Maledicta must know where he is. After all, he’s a rather curious fellow. But you’ve all got ample time to discover that, don’t you? Now off with you! And try not to be so overzealous this time.”
With a loud thunderclap the contestants disappeared, leaving the Haruspex and the bird alone in the atrium. She laughed and stroked its feathery back, ignoring the creature’s words. “A member of the Court,” it was saying. “They will all die. That theater will burn. A member of the Court.”
“I should have made you a songbird, Stephan,” she giggled, “You do like to go on and on.” </font>