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Post by Angel ♥ on Mar 25, 2010 13:11:18 GMT -5
Etoile lingered as Vyncent started walking, glancing back over her shoulder to watch his black flames as they licked over the pile of wreckage which had once been a graceful house. She seemed thoughtful, composed as she watched the chaos and destruction, Etoile in complete comparison with it all. She looked out of place in such a setting, too dainty and fragile to be so close to something so violent. The half demon wasn't, however, either of these. For a split second the chaos was reflected in her eyes, cherry coloured flames leaping up to twist with his black ones, the flash of colour a contrast to his darkness. She watched their flames dance together, smiling to herself before turning away to follow the demon, flames flickering around her feet, charring the grass as she passed.
"I would rather not try to enchant it myself." She shook her head, the flames disappearing from around her feet now. "I'm not that accomplished yet, one wrong syllable and we will need a new sword and to start again. Or, we may not notice and the enchantement may wear off in the middle of a fight, which wouldn't be fun." No, she didn't want to risk it. Etoile hated to admit her own weakness, but spells were one of them. She could only cast basic ones, anything more advanced was still beyond her, and she would not risk losing a fight out of sloppy spell weaving. "Find someone who knows and make them talk, sounds like an excellent plan." She agreed cheerfully, tugging the ribbon around her wrist a little tighter as they walked to make sure that it didn't come unfastened. "It feels good to be outside again."
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on May 18, 2010 13:20:17 GMT -5
"It does, doesn't it?" Vyncent echoed her comment about being outside, lifting his pale face up to the sunlight and letting the heat play over his cheeks. There. That's what he had missed. The fresh air, the world sprawling around them at their feet, all of that. The obsidian flames condensed around his feet before flickering out, the High Demon resting his hand comfortably on Amor's hilt, closing his fingers around the handle and sighing rather contently. Heh. People might have even forgotten about him. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd been thought dead or gone only to show up with a bang a couple of months later. He felt it was good to stir things up like that every now and then.
"We'll go to Lisieux, I think," he decided after a few minutes of walking, "It's about a day from here, we'll find some kind of lead there, if we're lucky," he nodded, talking more to himself than anyone else.
It was a fair few days later before Vyncent found any kind of hint that there was a weapon out there for his protege to use without breaking it. They had reached Lisieux in record time, where the demon had made his mark (naturally). The town was left intact, of course, he wasn't in the mood for large-scale destruction, not yet anyway. He was after information. Which was what had lead to their arrival in Roanne, consequently. It was renowned for its mythology and religious connotations, more than anything, something which Vyncent found amusing to no end, but he figured that Etoile would read into it in a more meaningful way.
They were standing on the outskirts of a grand cathedral currently, the demon straight backed and proud with one hand resting lazily in the pockets of his coat. He wouldn't be going any further than this if he could help it. He wasn't so keen to die. His attention was on a half concealed statue rather than the cathedral, Vyncent looking pretty interested, all things considered. "Huh... looks like he was a saint once," he commented to himself. "Not any more... Nice sword in the statue, though."
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Post by Angel ♥ on May 23, 2010 18:53:02 GMT -5
It was nice to be outside and travelling again, especially now that they had a goal. However, information gathering proved to be rather dull. Her knowledge of swords wasn‘t extensive enough for her to know what type of questions to ask or how to sift through what they were told to pick out things of interest, and her attention span wasn‘t long enough for her to bother learning. She left this one to Vyncent, he had been the one to promise her a new weapon, and he hadn‘t mentioned anything about her having to locate it herself. Instead Etoile had busied herself with testing out a few minor spells and generally causing trouble, all low scale, of course. The High Demon had made it clear that he didn‘t want to make too much of a scene just yet, and she wasn‘t going to test his patience, not right now anyway. Once she had a sword she would be in more of a position for bending the rules.
“He is Saint Antoine Petit.” Etoile supplied for Vyncent, stood next to the High Demon, a gleam of distaste in her eyes as she studied the cathedral. Etoile and religion was always a fun point, she had already developed a habit for going out of her way to make a mockery of it and everything it stood for, and for inflicting pain on anyone that got in her way. “His head is bowed in disgrace, halo cracked, hidden out of shame. He was the patron saint of this town, until he lost faith. The story they tell is that God took his only son as a test and he failed, guy flipped and went on a killing spree in the town. The only reason they have a statue of him is to remind them that God challenges as he see‘s fit, and it isn‘t up to man to question that. He shows the danger in faithlessness.” She rolled her eyes at the story before looking to the statue, her gaze suddenly sharpening, as though she had realised something.
Without a thought she stepped forward, her coat fluttering at her heels as the crossed the courtyard towards the statue, pausing once she was stood before it. It was a nice sword. A rapier like Amor, but with a golden blade, black handle held between the hands of the statue. Etoile tilted her head as she studied it, reaching out to run a fingertip along the smooth blade, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she felt it, a spark, similar to when she had first held Amor, but different all at the same time. “Very nice sword.” She murmured, her eyes flashing as she spoke a word, the stone hands cracking and crumbling, freeing the sword, Etoile reaching out to claim it before it fell to the floor. “Vyncent, you have got to feel this. They really should have been a little more careful with this thing.” She was moving back over towards him now, looking thoughtful. “I can‘t work it out...” She told him, turning the blade to offer him the handle. “...tell me what you think?” [/right][/color]
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on May 26, 2010 8:05:54 GMT -5
"Saint Antoine Petit," Vyncent repeated without much enthusiasm, observing the statue as she told its little story, his head tilted to the side. He still seemed half interested, even if the stories of a corrupted mortal weren't particularly to his taste. So 'God' took his son and he went on a killing spree. All mortals were capable of the same thing, they were so easily manipulated and nudged in the wrong direction, the High Demon couldn't really see why one mattered when the others could easily be guilty of the same crime. "The danger in faithlessness?" he repeated with an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His soft laughter rang around the air, the demon shaking his head and brushing his silvery hair out of his face.
"Well, chaos is chaos, I suppose," he shrugged lightly, his hand resting on Amor's pommel as he watched Etoile approach the statue. He blinked as she freed the sword, barely having noticed that the sword wasn't just a part of the statue. How foolish, placing a weapon within a symbol of corruption. Did these priests want someone to make a repeat performance of what this so-called 'saint' had done? He smirked as she held it in her hand - Vyncent wouldn't say it to her face, but the rapier actually suited her very well. "Hm..?" he raised his left hand as she offered him the handle of the blade. In a period of about five minutes Etoile had gone from being weapon-less, to finding a sword and also finding something interesting about it. Luck seemed to be on their side today.
The second Vyncent reached out and grabbed the sword, a spark of something rippled up his arm. A catlike grin spread across his face as he flourished the rapier elegantly in the air, the gold blade glinting in the light and thrumming softly. "Hello, Saint Antoine Petit," he smirked, a sinister laugh escaping his lips as he slashed the sword at the cathedral's gates. There was a low hum, a hissing sound, and the metal of the gates literally withered, the blade cutting through it as if it was made of butter. "Seems like you didn't entirely die, after all," he observed, drawing Amor with his right hand, the obsidian rapier's mourning song sounding rather uncertain in the face of this strange weapon. "Interesting," Vyncent smiled.
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Post by Angel ♥ on Jun 3, 2010 14:52:53 GMT -5
Luck was a funny thing. For Etoile it seemed to come all at once and then disappear for a stupid length of time. Today, however, it really seem that it was on her side. Not only had she found a sword, but it seemed that she had found the perfect sword, and it hadn‘t been difficult to get to. No, this was too much luck, there was a dark cloud lurking around the corner, she could sense it, but everything seemed quiet in the courtyard outside the cathedral. No Priests lurking in the shadows watching them, no alarm from the broken statue, nothing. It was suspiciously quiet, she was unsure about this. With how the sword had felt when she had touched it, with how much power she felt when she held it, she would have thought that it would be held under more security than that.
“You think that the Saint is still in there? Or, at least some of his energy?” She questioned, tilting her head at Vyncent, her eyes glinting as she watched the blade slice through the metal of the gates. Ah, she really did like this new sword. “Very interesting, I would like it back now.” She nodded to him, holding her hand out so that he could return the sword. It would be just like Vyncent to decide that he wanted two swords, and Etoile wanted her new blade back before the high demon became too attached to it. He had promised her a sword, she wanted that one! She had seen it first. Oh, if they argued about this it was going to be so childish, full of scowls, pouts and ‘mine‘s‘. It wouldn‘t be dignified at all.
However, all thoughts of arguing over the sword disappeared from her mind as an important looking priest appeared in the courtyard, striding towards them, flanked by two other priests, all of whom looked rather annoyed. “Oh, I think they realised that we stole their sword.” She murmured, moving to step back, only to freeze as a glowing line appeared behind them. Ah, so that was why they had taken so long to react, they had been setting a trap. As it was, the line of white magic trapped them between that and the grounds of the cathedral itself. “He doesn‘t look happy.” [/right][/color]
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 8, 2010 5:15:29 GMT -5
"Oh, I think that the Saint is very much still in there," Vyncent confirmed with a cat-like grin as his red eyed gaze flickered from his own blade to 'her's' (he hadn't quite decided yet on whether this new rapier would be a good replacement for her old one). "And he doesn't like holy energy. Or souls. Or things with more power than he has," he laughed. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sound, and without warning Vyncent brought the two blades forward to clash together; the Saint's sword in his left hand and Amor in his right. There was an almighty shriek as the two blades connected with each other, the dark werelight of Amor dimming to nothing more than a vague glow, while the sinister shimmer of the golden rapier was reduced to a dull, opaque glint.
Vyncent looked bemused at the less that stellar reaction between the two blades, drawing them apart again where they thrashed angrily, Amor's usually mourning song sounding disgruntled and annoyed, as though she was unimpressed with the Saint and his pointless vendetta against holiness. Saint Antoine Petit's sword, while it didn't have a song of its own, thrummed to itself irritatedly, and Vyncent could have sworn that the two blades had decided that they didn't like each other. "Very interesting," he mused, smirking and looking close to clashing the blades together again just to see if the same reaction occurred, before she spoke of wanting it back. He considered her for a long moment. Did he want to give the sword to her?
His decision making was cut rather short, however, as some pansy of a priest came swaggering out of the cathedral towards them. Vyncent turned around with a flourish, looking twice as dangerous (if possible) with two angry swords in his hands. When Etoile stepped back and activated the curtain of holy light, his red eyes narrowed. That was... inconvenient. "What do you think, ma cherie? Remind me what I taught you about traps," he murmured in a velvety voice, turning the Saint's sword in his hand to offer it to her elegantly, hilt first, "If we kill the makers of the trap, what will happen to it?" a crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth and, as Etoile would notice, he took a seemingly innocent stance. But it was laced with danger, and the second any of the priests got close, they would be cut to ribbons.
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Post by Angel ♥ on Jun 13, 2010 12:30:00 GMT -5
”He sounds like my kind of man.” Etoile commented with a smirk. While it wouldn’t be quite true to say that she hated everything holy, it would be fair to say that it was an obsession of hers. Souls were not much concern to her, where people went after she killed them she neither knew nor cared to know, and, with regard to people with more power than her? Well, it was sure that she wouldn‘t react well to anything like that. Vyncent was her teacher, him being more powerful than her was bearable, but others? No, she didn‘t like the thought that anyone could defeat her. Put it down to being young and headstrong, but Etoile quite liked the idea of being indestructible. Age and experience would prove such an idea wrong, but, for now she was rather happy to indulge in such an opinion.
Her eyebrows raised in interest as Vyncent lifted the two blades before bringing them together. Their reaction to one another was far more violent than she had been expecting, the half breed tilting her head as she studied the two blades. “They are opposites, they cancel each other out.” She murmured as she observed the gleams of both blades dim. “And they do not like each other, how interesting.” She noted as Amor’s song changed and grew more irritated. This sword really was quite a find. It seemed that she had found the perfect blade, well, that would be the case as soon as Vyncent handed it back to her.
The arrival of the priests interrupted whatever gloating she had been planning, fire lighting in her golden eyes as she watched the man approach. “Traps,” She began as she accepted her new blade, power tingling down her arm as her hand closed around the hilt. “They are broken when their maker is killed.” She finished with a rather charming smile to the priest, who had stopped a little way in front of them, as though waiting for them to make the first move. “Would you like to do the honours Vyncent, or shall we see what my new sword can do?”
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 17, 2010 13:33:56 GMT -5
"Very good," Vyncent smiled quietly as she gave him the correct answer, transferring Amor back into his left hand, rolling his shoulder as his hand closed around the silver-coloured hilt of the blade. He cast the high priest (he assumed) an unimpressed look, before his gaze flickered to the two men on either side of him. "I think it would be right to assume that there's plenty here for the both of us," he told Etoile as though to assure her that he was willing to share this time around, the demon smirking like the devil himself. He would explore the possibility of another semi-sapient blade in his protege's possession and the implications of it all after they were out from between a rock and a hard place. Or, in this case, between a cathedral and a holy ward.
"You take his friends. I'll deal with our high priest," Vyncent purred to her, slashing Amor at the air a few times to cause her song to change back to its usual mourning tones. It seemed that even a clash with a corrupted saint couldn't stop her thirst for blood and souls. He had to admit that he was pleased to find this out. The high priest, however, didn't seem to be any push-over, drawing a white wooden staff carved with many runes, which pulsed faintly as he considered the demon in front of him. Vyncent straightened up, holding the rapier up to the light as if to challenge the priest to come closer, the demon looking interested. Needless to say, it wasn't long before they were locked in battle.
Vyncent hadn't fought a priest in a long while, and he hadn't fought a high priest in even longer. High demon versus high priest. This was going to be an interesting fight. Even his superior speed and strength couldn't make up for the fact that he couldn't touch the man, however; the defensive holy wards around him protected against that. But if he wanted to fight with magic, then Vyncent would be happy to oblige. With a hissed syllable, an unholy gale whipped up around them, lifting the high demon's hair from around his shoulders and, with an effort of will, ripping the staff from his opponent's hands. He didn't plan on losing this fight.
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Post by Angel ♥ on Jun 21, 2010 7:49:19 GMT -5
A flash of something dark and deadly moved through Etoile‘s eyes as he told her to take the other two priests, acknowledging him with a nod as she took a step forward. The half demon had plenty of room to manoeuvre, able to step into the ground of the cathedral to face the priests while Vyncent was left trapped between the ward and the cathedrals grounds. The priests seemed to have realised what the plan was, separating away from the High Priest to move to meet Etoile, both of them looking sure of themselves as they drew out staff‘s similar to that of the High Priest. There was a lazy look in her eyes as she weighed her sword in her hand, making a silent deal with the blade to slaughter these holy men, the tingle that ran up her arm telling her that the blade was more than willing. The smallest of smiles touched to her lips as she rose her blade, tilting it towards the priests in an invitation to fight. Let the games begin.
The priests rushed forward all at once and they were suddenly fighting. Etoile moving with that innate grace of hers, as though this was a dance and not a battle to the death. Something strange was happening, the magic words that they attempted to speak against her shrivelled and died on their tongues, and doubt replaced the certainty that had shone in their eyes. How very interesting. It took a mere flick of her wrist to slice through one of the staffs, the white wood turning black as it withered. The priest faltered and her golden blade pierced his chest, Etoile unable to stop the dark little laugh that bubbled up inside her, sparked by the blood thirsty glee of the blade. It seemed that Etoile had found her favourite Saint, the nuns at Le Couvert would have been thrilled.
The second priest was stood a little way from her as she kicked the body away from her blade, watching the first body fall to the floor before turning her blood stained sword on the other priest. He seemed to have changed his strategies now, opting for elemental magic rather than white magic, a cut opening on her cheek from the attack, her eyes narrowing. Cherry red flames roared up around the priest causing him to yell out in pain, the flames tipped with white, as though influenced by the purity of the cathedral, not that it made much of a difference. “You should be happy, priest, you get to follow in the footsteps of all your favourite martyrs and burn to death.”
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jul 10, 2010 14:35:12 GMT -5
Had Vyncent been paying any attention to what Etoile was doing in her fight with the priests, he'd have probably admitted that she was doing very well. Watching her was like poetry in motion, and the way the blade reacted in her grip was an echo of himself and Amor. He could tell, even without looking over at her, that Etoile and this Saint Petit would make quite a team. And getting the sword away from her was going to be damn near impossible. He was busy, however, with his own fight, the high demon's crimson eyes flashing dangerously as the high priest's weapon clattered harmlessly to the ground a few feet inside the cathedral. And rest assured, Vyncent would not let the priest get a chance to retreat into the holy grounds and retrieve it.
Etoile was already finished with her fight by the sound of it, her bitter little speech only serving to emphasise that fact. Huh. Vyncent had better hurry up, or the half-demon would start making jibes about him being old and slow. He gathered his strength, narrowing his eyes at the now cowering priest, and started threading his evocation magic together. With a few whispered syllables, the gale whipped around the priest even more harshly, but without warning cuts began to open up over his flesh, as if invisible knifes were tearing at his skin, opening wounds which bled profusely. The priest writhed in pain and began to howl in agony, staggering to his knees and begging for mercy.
"Mercy is for the weak," Vyncent snarled, a nasty little smile on his face as the priest collapsed at his feet, bleeding out all over the floor. Silently, the ward behind him dissolved completely. The demon let out a soft sigh of relief, sheathing Amor and only now seeming to notice that he hadn't actually used her very much in his fight. The blade would be jealous.
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Post by Angel ♥ on Jul 12, 2010 7:40:34 GMT -5
The second Priest died in a flurry of flames and screams, blackened and charred body falling to the ground, fire extinguishing as the pained yells finally stopped. Etoile turned to glance over at Vyncent just as his fight finished, arching her eyebrow as she studied the tattered body on the ground at his feet, blood flowing through the cracks between the cobble stones. “Aw damn, I think you win, again.” She pouted as she moved over to his side, skirting around the remains of the High Priest to avoid blooding her shoes. The High Demon always had an air of theatricality to his kills, a flair that she was only just starting to pick up. Etoile was young and impressionable, travelling with Vyncent was sure to instil a sense of drama into her rampages. Where was the fun in straight killing? Murder was only remembered when there was a little imagination in it.
With a glance to her newly acquired sword she slipped it into the previously empty sheath at her hip, moving to walk away from the cathedral without so much as a glance back over her shoulder. “Where are we heading now?” She questioned, her gaze moving to the town at the bottom of the hill. Word would get out soon that they had stolen a holy (or unholy as it turned out) relic and murdered Priests, and things would be…interesting. Vyncent was already infamous, his face was plastered over wanted posters in every town in Demia, and there were rumours that he had found himself a protégé. Much to her annoyance, she hadn’t been pictured in any posters yet, but there was plenty of time for that. For now she was still finding her feet, and, sometimes, anonymity worked to her advantage; at least she could walk into a town without them instantly trying to chase her off.
“I want to test out my new sword again, two Priests hardly reflects what he can do…” She murmured, sounding thoughtful. “Hmmm, how much trouble were we planning on getting ourselves into today?” A smirk touched to her features as she glanced up at him, a blood thirsty gleam in her eyes. [/right][/color]
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Dec 16, 2010 14:41:19 GMT -5
"I always win," Vyncent informed her with a smirk, looking over his shoulder at her and tilting his head. He watched her walk away with an air of amusement, following silently and barely casting the cathedral a glance as they left. It was always amusing, he found, to see who would try to oppose them. They wanted a sword, they would get a sword, whether anyone said yes or no or whatever to them. That they had been priests, however... that just sugar-coated an already hilarious situation. "Now?" he echoed her, his fingers closing around the hilt of Amor as they walked, the rapier bouncing off his hip while he picked up his pace to draw up next to her. "Ma cherie, that's the joy of wandering, is it not? We can go wherever you please."
Of course, while they may be able to go wherever they wanted, it wouldn't take Vyncent long to choose a new destination. It never did. The high demon was one to get bored easily, and that was putting it lightly. He couldn't help but smile, however, at the mention of his little protege testing out her new sword again. He bared a fanged grin as he thought about where he'd like to take them, eventually pausing and letting a manic little glint light up in his eyes. "I have an idea," he announced, the Devil's smile on his face. "What would you say, ma cherie, if I suggested we return to Le Couvert? I think your sword would very much like to be introduced to the place where you spend so long being so angry," he considered.
Yes, he supposed. Actually, that sounded like a fine idea. It had been a while since he'd seen Le Couvert; not since his initial attack, and he had to be honest... he wanted to see how the place was holding up. This little quest, at least, would be sure to hold his interest for a while. Vyncent was already walking away now, brushing his silvery hair out of his face. A productive day, all in all.
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Post by Angel ♥ on Dec 18, 2010 10:02:31 GMT -5
”Always?” Etoile arched an eyebrow at that comment, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, the half demon looking rather amused by that comment. “We will see.” She brushed the subject off without much further thought. Vyncent could do with a bit of a challenge, and Etoile intended to get to the point where she could at least get close to challenging Vyncent. Not directly, of course, she wasn‘t stupid. Why pick a fight with the High Demon when she knew he‘d just rip her apart. No, she meant more that she wanted to be able to kill with more flair than him, wanted to be able to create more of a stir than he could. She would be known through Demia of her own right, not just because she hung around with Vyncent; she would make sure of it.
The girl paused at the mention of Le Couvert, a dark scowl flickering over her features. That was something that she had hoped would never be mentioned again, never mind suggesting that they go back there. The faintest of growls bubbled in her throat as she looked around at the demon, fire dancing in her eyes. Then it began to dawn on her what he meant. He wasn‘t meaning a social visit, more of a ‘haha you were right I‘m a demon‘ visit, to show them just how far she‘d come in the months since Vyncent had busted her out of there. Ah, she was starting to come around to this idea now.
“How long will it take to get there?” She questioned as she started to walk again, brushing her hair back from her face. “You even remember how to get there?” [/size][/right]
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