Re: MORITURI TE SALUTANT!! [S!4]
01-04-2013, 03:02 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.
Somewhere in the vast labyrinth of Il Maledicta, a large elliptical room bustled and hummed with uncharacteristically genuine enthusiasm. The space was dominated by a huge dining table stretching to each end of the room. Plates and plinths were haphazardly scattered across the aged table cloth, all overflowing with various exotic foods from across the globe. Elegant chairs of mismatching styles were littered around the table, though they could barely be seen from the massive crowds that had crammed themselves into the dining area. Balconies overlooking the room too were filled to the brim with excited onlookers, all vying for a good angle to look down on such a momentous moment. A chimera of a chandelier hung precariously over hectic room, filling the space with a warm glow.
The centrepiece of all this anticipation was sitting right at the end of the table, on the most extravagant chair that the various actors and stage hands could find. If you would have asked Carlie Levenson what she would have been doing in the next five minutes, she would have probably not answered with being celebrated as some kind of borderline deity. Carlie looked down the table and the vast range of meals laid out across it. Her stomach growled loudly as the fatigue from the last round began to set in. She refrained from taking a bite; she didn’t want to look like she was into this whole debacle.
A man, who Carlie recognised as the guy she brought back from the dead what seemed like a minute ago, clambered a top of the table and shushed the crowds. “Noble citizens of Il Maledicta! Today we celebrate the long awaited return of the Full Stop Angels!” The room exploded with merriment and cheers, Carlie shouted out a “I think there been a mistake here” but her complaints were completely drowned out by the jubilant crowds. The man continued as the voices died down “Finally, after so many years, we can find an authentic copy of the true script! Bring forth the pages!”
On cue, the doors swung open and the swarm parted, revealing a line of well dressed gentlemen carrying gargantuan stacks of yellowed paper. Carlie looked on with a complete disbelief “Oh you have got to be fucking joking.” They were not, as pile after heap after mound of paper was delivered To Carlie’s end of the table “How am I meant to look through all this!? What am I even looking for!?” Nobody answered her, they were all too busy rejoicing and eating to pay any attention. Carlie buried her face into her hands; she just wanted to escape this awful fever dream, go home, go to bed and sleep forever. She took one more glance across the room in a fraught attempt to find help. Her eyes finally homed in on one person who didn’t quite blend in with the crowds.
Nameless had been keeping a low profile up until this point. Of course she got the occasional odd look from the diverse thespians of Il Maledicta but they were hardly a threat. She had followed a raving crowd into a large dining room and found herself in the possession of a rather gratuitous amount of free food and drink. All in all things were going pretty great for Nameless. That was, until a certain annoying blonde girl managed to pick her out of the horde of people.
Carlie vaguely recognised her from the beginning of this ridiculous nightmare she was a part of, which meant she wasn’t a crazy actor currently deifying her right now. She flailed her arms in Nameless’ direction, “Hey! Help me!” She mouthed, in a bid to avoid the attention of anyone else. Nameless shot a confused look back to Carlie. “Get me out of this!” She said, once again in complete silence. Nameless looked on apathetically at the panicking girl, what was in it for her? Carlie picked up on the message quickly and upped her voice to a stage whisper. “Oh come on! We’re in the same boat here! Put yourself in my shoes!” Of course, Nameless was incapable of empathy and as such she struggled to ‘put herself in her shoes’; however she did recognise the advantages of teaming up with someone, even if that someone was a staggeringly incompetent girl with seemingly no skills whatsoever. Nameless glanced around the room and signalled Carlie to wait as she dashed off into the crowds.
“No, no, no, no, no wait, don’t go!” Carlie waved her arms around in a desperate attempt to keep her around but it was far too late. Her attention turned to the mountain of aged scripts that sat beside her. She picked one up at random labelled ‘In the company of Full Stop Angels: SUPERFLUOUS SHARK ATTACKS’ and sighed heavily. “This is impossible. How the hell am I supposed to sort through all this?” She threw the screenplay to floor and somewhere amidst the celebrating crowds a stagehand bursts into tears. “Christ would I do anything to get out of this.”
As if on cue, an aged lady, makeup streaming down her face, burst through doors in hysterics. “Everyone! The Phantom Killer has been sighted! Everybody run!” The festivity of the crowds stopped almost instantaneously, only to be quickly replaced with panic and screams. The speed of which the room’s mood turned was uncanny, as well dressed ladies and gentlemen frantically streamed out of the crammed dining room, clambering over chairs, tables and people alike. Carlie simply sat where she was; not quite comprehending what was going on. A silence settled over the hall as the last few stragglers scattered away, until with a small bang, a flash of green and red light and a theatrical flourish, a cloaked figure appeared on the head of the table.
Carlie was stunned; she simply stared at the cloaked man in disbelief. Aside from his midnight black cloak the only other discernible feature was an ornately carved white mask with an exaggerated frown cut into it. It rung a bell but Carlie wasn’t exactly thinking clear enough to place it. His gaze was fixated on her, and it was somewhat disquieting.
“Ah, I see. How disappointing.” The figure spoke with a clear and measured tone, with just the faintest edge of menace. He paced slowly down the table towards Carlie, the sound of his steps the only noise in the suddenly too silent room. “I heard tell of a Full Stop Angel emerging from the markets, but really I should have known better. Such a terrible shame though, I have a number of clients who would have paid very well for an opportunity to own a Real Live Angel.” Each capital letter was carefully pronounced. “Instead I find… you.” He snorted derisively. “Golden hair and drab otherworldly clothes; is this really what those plebeians believe to be an Angel?” He shook his head and finally came to a stop, casting a sickly pale shade over Carlie’s face. She wanted to scream and run away but her own dread ensured she would remain locked in place. “But this trip needn’t be a total waste. Whilst you may lack the power or the beauty to appeal to my clients,” Carlie had to catch herself from snapping back, mainly because she didn’t want to end up dead at the hands of some masked psycho “all I require is that you bleed.” Though his mask hid his face, the tone of his voice perfectly communicated the twisted grin that hid behind it. “You’ll bleed for me won’t you my ‘angel’?”
Carlie swallowed involuntarily. The other girl was nowhere to be seen; she was on her own and short on options. She couldn’t fight this guy off and she was sure if she got up to run he’d be on her in a second. She had to convince him that she had value, that he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, just kill her. She managed to squeak out a few words. “I can bring people back to life?”
For an infinitesimally small moment the figure was a little perplexed at such an answer. “Impossible… just the desperate ramblings of a desperate girl.” He scoffed after a moment’s consideration. His cloak opened revealing a too slender frame and a blood splattered dagger. “Really I’m doing you a favour here. If Mister Dei had deigned to seek you out personally then death would be a mercy. Now hold still g-”
The masked man’s monologue was cut brutally short with a cacophony of metal and glass smashing into his face. Carlie bolted up from her chair, launching a storm of withered paper all around her. “JESUS FUCK AAAH!” She breathed heavily, relieved to be finally out of such a tense situation. She snapped her head up to the balconies, spying a girl with no name holding the worn ropes that once suspended a dilapidated chandelier in the air. “You could of done that a lot sooner don’t you think!” Nameless shrugged nonchalantly and began climbing down the balcony. Carlie looked back to the twisted cadaver of the masked man, shattered under a lattice of bronze and silver. “That was a close one.” She says, though his reference to ‘Mister Dei’ seems to ring in her ears.
Nameless landed on the floor with a heavy thud, she scruitinized the remnant of the masked man, before scribbling something down in her notebook. ‘u fink a mask wud sewt me?’
Carlie rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t care.” She paced away, rubbing her eyes heavily in annoyance. “So great. The guy we’re supposed to trying to kill is the guy that creepy psycho killers think they are sparing you from. Death would be a mercy. That’s just brilliant. Fantastic. Here’s me thinking it was going to dangerous.” She meandered back to the table, eyeing up some of the food that survived the dismantlement of the party. “I hope that Imago himself is just as easy to off as this guy.”
Nameless did not share Carlie’s optimism, responding with a rather blunt ‘i dout it’ from her notepad.
“Well gee. You sure fill me to the brim with confidence.” Carlie muttered between mouthfuls of food. “So what is your deal anyway? You ever going to talk? Or do I have to keep up with this ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’ shtick you got going on. Nameless rolled her eyes. This was probably going to become A Thing. Before she could begin to introduce herself however, she found herself distracted by a certain glow.
“What? What are you looki-” Light burst out of Carlie’s palms, almost scaring her to death. “Oh Shitting, FUCKING, HOW DID I FORGET THIS!?” The radiant glow danced towards the masked man’s body as Nameless tugged on Carlie’s clothes in an attempt to get some form of explanation. “I mean, fuck, it’s not like I just did this ten BASTARDING minutes ago! Y’know this make a VERY good case for my insanity theory right!?” Nameless started dragging Carlie by the sleeve towards the door until eventually they were out of the room.
The masked man rose from the broken chandelier with bones snapping into place and light spiralling around him. He snatched his bloody mask up from the floor and slotted it over his rebuilt face. “Well then.” He said, with a brush down of his sable cloak. “Perhaps you are more interesting than you first appear.”
Somewhere in the vast labyrinth of Il Maledicta, a large elliptical room bustled and hummed with uncharacteristically genuine enthusiasm. The space was dominated by a huge dining table stretching to each end of the room. Plates and plinths were haphazardly scattered across the aged table cloth, all overflowing with various exotic foods from across the globe. Elegant chairs of mismatching styles were littered around the table, though they could barely be seen from the massive crowds that had crammed themselves into the dining area. Balconies overlooking the room too were filled to the brim with excited onlookers, all vying for a good angle to look down on such a momentous moment. A chimera of a chandelier hung precariously over hectic room, filling the space with a warm glow.
The centrepiece of all this anticipation was sitting right at the end of the table, on the most extravagant chair that the various actors and stage hands could find. If you would have asked Carlie Levenson what she would have been doing in the next five minutes, she would have probably not answered with being celebrated as some kind of borderline deity. Carlie looked down the table and the vast range of meals laid out across it. Her stomach growled loudly as the fatigue from the last round began to set in. She refrained from taking a bite; she didn’t want to look like she was into this whole debacle.
A man, who Carlie recognised as the guy she brought back from the dead what seemed like a minute ago, clambered a top of the table and shushed the crowds. “Noble citizens of Il Maledicta! Today we celebrate the long awaited return of the Full Stop Angels!” The room exploded with merriment and cheers, Carlie shouted out a “I think there been a mistake here” but her complaints were completely drowned out by the jubilant crowds. The man continued as the voices died down “Finally, after so many years, we can find an authentic copy of the true script! Bring forth the pages!”
On cue, the doors swung open and the swarm parted, revealing a line of well dressed gentlemen carrying gargantuan stacks of yellowed paper. Carlie looked on with a complete disbelief “Oh you have got to be fucking joking.” They were not, as pile after heap after mound of paper was delivered To Carlie’s end of the table “How am I meant to look through all this!? What am I even looking for!?” Nobody answered her, they were all too busy rejoicing and eating to pay any attention. Carlie buried her face into her hands; she just wanted to escape this awful fever dream, go home, go to bed and sleep forever. She took one more glance across the room in a fraught attempt to find help. Her eyes finally homed in on one person who didn’t quite blend in with the crowds.
Nameless had been keeping a low profile up until this point. Of course she got the occasional odd look from the diverse thespians of Il Maledicta but they were hardly a threat. She had followed a raving crowd into a large dining room and found herself in the possession of a rather gratuitous amount of free food and drink. All in all things were going pretty great for Nameless. That was, until a certain annoying blonde girl managed to pick her out of the horde of people.
Carlie vaguely recognised her from the beginning of this ridiculous nightmare she was a part of, which meant she wasn’t a crazy actor currently deifying her right now. She flailed her arms in Nameless’ direction, “Hey! Help me!” She mouthed, in a bid to avoid the attention of anyone else. Nameless shot a confused look back to Carlie. “Get me out of this!” She said, once again in complete silence. Nameless looked on apathetically at the panicking girl, what was in it for her? Carlie picked up on the message quickly and upped her voice to a stage whisper. “Oh come on! We’re in the same boat here! Put yourself in my shoes!” Of course, Nameless was incapable of empathy and as such she struggled to ‘put herself in her shoes’; however she did recognise the advantages of teaming up with someone, even if that someone was a staggeringly incompetent girl with seemingly no skills whatsoever. Nameless glanced around the room and signalled Carlie to wait as she dashed off into the crowds.
“No, no, no, no, no wait, don’t go!” Carlie waved her arms around in a desperate attempt to keep her around but it was far too late. Her attention turned to the mountain of aged scripts that sat beside her. She picked one up at random labelled ‘In the company of Full Stop Angels: SUPERFLUOUS SHARK ATTACKS’ and sighed heavily. “This is impossible. How the hell am I supposed to sort through all this?” She threw the screenplay to floor and somewhere amidst the celebrating crowds a stagehand bursts into tears. “Christ would I do anything to get out of this.”
As if on cue, an aged lady, makeup streaming down her face, burst through doors in hysterics. “Everyone! The Phantom Killer has been sighted! Everybody run!” The festivity of the crowds stopped almost instantaneously, only to be quickly replaced with panic and screams. The speed of which the room’s mood turned was uncanny, as well dressed ladies and gentlemen frantically streamed out of the crammed dining room, clambering over chairs, tables and people alike. Carlie simply sat where she was; not quite comprehending what was going on. A silence settled over the hall as the last few stragglers scattered away, until with a small bang, a flash of green and red light and a theatrical flourish, a cloaked figure appeared on the head of the table.
Carlie was stunned; she simply stared at the cloaked man in disbelief. Aside from his midnight black cloak the only other discernible feature was an ornately carved white mask with an exaggerated frown cut into it. It rung a bell but Carlie wasn’t exactly thinking clear enough to place it. His gaze was fixated on her, and it was somewhat disquieting.
“Ah, I see. How disappointing.” The figure spoke with a clear and measured tone, with just the faintest edge of menace. He paced slowly down the table towards Carlie, the sound of his steps the only noise in the suddenly too silent room. “I heard tell of a Full Stop Angel emerging from the markets, but really I should have known better. Such a terrible shame though, I have a number of clients who would have paid very well for an opportunity to own a Real Live Angel.” Each capital letter was carefully pronounced. “Instead I find… you.” He snorted derisively. “Golden hair and drab otherworldly clothes; is this really what those plebeians believe to be an Angel?” He shook his head and finally came to a stop, casting a sickly pale shade over Carlie’s face. She wanted to scream and run away but her own dread ensured she would remain locked in place. “But this trip needn’t be a total waste. Whilst you may lack the power or the beauty to appeal to my clients,” Carlie had to catch herself from snapping back, mainly because she didn’t want to end up dead at the hands of some masked psycho “all I require is that you bleed.” Though his mask hid his face, the tone of his voice perfectly communicated the twisted grin that hid behind it. “You’ll bleed for me won’t you my ‘angel’?”
Carlie swallowed involuntarily. The other girl was nowhere to be seen; she was on her own and short on options. She couldn’t fight this guy off and she was sure if she got up to run he’d be on her in a second. She had to convince him that she had value, that he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, just kill her. She managed to squeak out a few words. “I can bring people back to life?”
For an infinitesimally small moment the figure was a little perplexed at such an answer. “Impossible… just the desperate ramblings of a desperate girl.” He scoffed after a moment’s consideration. His cloak opened revealing a too slender frame and a blood splattered dagger. “Really I’m doing you a favour here. If Mister Dei had deigned to seek you out personally then death would be a mercy. Now hold still g-”
The masked man’s monologue was cut brutally short with a cacophony of metal and glass smashing into his face. Carlie bolted up from her chair, launching a storm of withered paper all around her. “JESUS FUCK AAAH!” She breathed heavily, relieved to be finally out of such a tense situation. She snapped her head up to the balconies, spying a girl with no name holding the worn ropes that once suspended a dilapidated chandelier in the air. “You could of done that a lot sooner don’t you think!” Nameless shrugged nonchalantly and began climbing down the balcony. Carlie looked back to the twisted cadaver of the masked man, shattered under a lattice of bronze and silver. “That was a close one.” She says, though his reference to ‘Mister Dei’ seems to ring in her ears.
Nameless landed on the floor with a heavy thud, she scruitinized the remnant of the masked man, before scribbling something down in her notebook. ‘u fink a mask wud sewt me?’
Carlie rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t care.” She paced away, rubbing her eyes heavily in annoyance. “So great. The guy we’re supposed to trying to kill is the guy that creepy psycho killers think they are sparing you from. Death would be a mercy. That’s just brilliant. Fantastic. Here’s me thinking it was going to dangerous.” She meandered back to the table, eyeing up some of the food that survived the dismantlement of the party. “I hope that Imago himself is just as easy to off as this guy.”
Nameless did not share Carlie’s optimism, responding with a rather blunt ‘i dout it’ from her notepad.
“Well gee. You sure fill me to the brim with confidence.” Carlie muttered between mouthfuls of food. “So what is your deal anyway? You ever going to talk? Or do I have to keep up with this ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’ shtick you got going on. Nameless rolled her eyes. This was probably going to become A Thing. Before she could begin to introduce herself however, she found herself distracted by a certain glow.
“What? What are you looki-” Light burst out of Carlie’s palms, almost scaring her to death. “Oh Shitting, FUCKING, HOW DID I FORGET THIS!?” The radiant glow danced towards the masked man’s body as Nameless tugged on Carlie’s clothes in an attempt to get some form of explanation. “I mean, fuck, it’s not like I just did this ten BASTARDING minutes ago! Y’know this make a VERY good case for my insanity theory right!?” Nameless started dragging Carlie by the sleeve towards the door until eventually they were out of the room.
The masked man rose from the broken chandelier with bones snapping into place and light spiralling around him. He snatched his bloody mask up from the floor and slotted it over his rebuilt face. “Well then.” He said, with a brush down of his sable cloak. “Perhaps you are more interesting than you first appear.”