recommencelogs | [Open] I think with my heart and I move with my head. I open my mouth and it's something I've read.

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[Open] I think with my heart and I move with my head. I open my mouth and it's something I've read.

Who: Sandrath & you?
What: A fallen arch-angel just wandering around the ship, investigating things where he can. (He still hasn't bothered to check the communicator.)
When: All day during October 1st - 7th
Where: Around the Black Tide.
Warnings: Possible violence against the Nameless and on deck 10. Will update if things change.
Notes: Brackets or prose is fine. Feel free to pick a date, time and prompt. If you pick 'Sandra' for the market prompt, don't be alarmed if you are tagged with

sanindisguise.
===

[Interacting with the Nameless]
Through-out the course of being on this boat, Sandrath had taken notice of the Nameless right away with their sewn mouths. His morbid curiosity nagged at him every time he would pass one, wondering how they ended up in their current situation and who had done it. There was probably a reason behind it. Majority of the time, it was due to a deal and sometimes not in the favor of the person who made it or they made an oath and couldn't speak of it without being punished.

Then again, they could be puppets. He's had his fair share of experience with puppeteers. They would sink their threads in to their targets to have better control of them. Any injuries they had would be patched up by their controller, only giving them more power. Arthur was unfortunate to have experience that first hand with being unable to speak or move on his own. Thankfully, the fallen arch-angel had shown up and burned the thread that kept him prisoner. The half grim reaper owed him quite a debt for that rescue. Perhaps he could get the same gratitude from the Nameless.

"Hey." He called out to one that was passing by before reaching out to grab them by their arm. "I'd like to have a few words with you."

A bit of a smile appeared on his lips as he summoned a knife to his other hand.

[Messing around in the orchestra pit on deck 4]
If someone was to pass by the Royale opera house, they could hear someone tuning or playing one of the string or percussion instruments. But, with every strike from a drum, a slight cough could be heard. That was the user's fault for not bothering to remove the dust that was coating the items.

[Browsing the market place on deck 6; Sandrath or 'Sandra']
Sandrath had visited the market not long after his arrival, but didn't take anything during that time. This visit was different though. He could be spotted in the clothing section, placing several articles of clothing in to bags. They were nice looking and appeared to fit his 6'3" figure. Or maybe you were unfortunate to spot him venturing in to the adult section of the market.

Or perhaps you found a 5'6" brunette woman instead, who was wearing a red dress and sandals. She was browsing the clothing section for the most part, but she could be found in other areas of the market. Although, if you were to approach her, you would need to get her attention by being verbal or touching her arm since she seemed to be lost in thought or debating between two items.

[Out in the Rain; Oct. 3rd and onward]
Ever since the storm started, the fallen arch-angel wasn't hindered or bothered by it's presence. If anything, it was somewhat comforting to hear the rain hit the outside of the boat and the distant clash of thunder. It almost reflected his own mood, with the loss of how effective his abilities were and the annoyance of being stuck on a vassal without being able to leave.

Yet, here he was standing out in the rain and completely drenched. His hair was flat against his skull and it would sometimes get in his eyes, which he would occasionally brush away to only have it return to its previous spot. He didn't care that his wet clothes clung to his frame, leaving not much to the imagination.

Will you approach and try to convince him to get out of the rain?

[Visiting the darkness on Deck 10; Oct. 7th]
Sandrath had steadily gone through each deck as thoroughly as he could. He wasn't surprised when the elevator denied him access when he pressed the button for deck 10. It had done this before when he tried to visit deck 2 and venturing out of the cable car with his shadow mimicry didn't lead to much results either. So, he tried again but with a swipe of his key card before pressing the button again. Much to his surprise, it worked.

When the elevator arrived at its stop and opened its doors, he promptly stepped out without a second thought. As the doors close, he turns on his senses and summons a small weapon to his hand, anticipating something to happen.

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The Nameless shambles to a halt, staring ahead blankly. It never acknowledges Sandrath and after a moment passes, it tries to continue on its way. There was work to be done.

That was rather rude of them to ignore him. The least they could do is acknowledge his presence.

His grip tightens around their arm, it was firm and he wasn't going to let them continue on their way. "What has you in such a rush? Can't you spare a few moments for passenger?"

Those brown eyes scanned over the Nameless' face before darting down to the thread that stitched their lips together. He can't help but chuckle, as if it was now dawning on him why he wasn't getting much of a response.

"Ohhh. I see now." He starts, his smile turning in to something a little more sinister. "That's why you can't answer me. Let's help you out of your little predicament, shall we?"

He doesn't wait for a response as he quickly moves the hand was gripping on the Nameless' arm and grasps their jaw instead, with the same firmness as before. Then he brings up the knife he had summoned earlier and starts to get to work on cutting that thread. If he was to accidentally nick them with the tip of his blade, he could consider healing them afterwards or perhaps leave the mark as a reminder and an identifier.

The Nameless continues to move, its feet sliding fruitlessly across the floor, though the tightened hold on its arm seemed enough to stop it again.

When Sandrath grips its jaw, its head jerks in the direction he turns it.

The blade slides easily through the hair sealing its lips closed. With the last thread cut, the Nameless seems to jerk awake. Whatever nicks have occurred from Sandrath's blade is ignored.

There is no sign of life its dull eyes. But when it spreads its lips, rows and rows of razor sharp teeth are revealed. It lunges, mouth gaped impossibly wide, with every intent of latching onto Sandrath.

Well, the 'thread' was a lot more easier to cut than he had anticipated even with the dull blade. He did catch that sudden twitch, but what was to follow was a surprise.

Unable to help himself, he let out a small chuckle at the mouth full of teeth as he moves to jump back. This situation reminded him of one from back home, when he would try and avoid becoming a snack for 'Hybrid'. Although majority of the time, it didn't work.

"Well now, this wasn't the kind of gratitude I was looking for." He jokes as he changes his weapon to one with more reach, a glove with long nails. "You certainly must be hungry and go after the man that freed you."

That being said, he was aiming for joints that would hinder this being from reaching him so easily. Injuries weren't much of a concern for himself, especially when he has a 'second skin' that could protect him and heal up afterwards.

Gratitude was all but forgotten as the Nameless hones in on its prey.

The nails find their mark, driving into its shoulder. But the Nameless is not deterred, reaching desperately for Sandrath's shirt. In fact, whatever pain it might feel is ignored.

When its fingers graze him, even the tiniest amount, it inhales with such force that its intent is clear. Come closer.

Edited 2014-10-09 01:14 (UTC)

San was starting to wonder if the Nameless were completely numb to pain and perhaps he could get away with some maiming. After all, he was acting in self defense. It wouldn't hurt to get a few more swipes in there.

He couldn't help but be amused by the desperate grabs and the constant, sharp inhales of him being just out of reach.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want a bite of me." Although he should really stop taunting his opponent and finish the job.

When its fingers find purchase at last, it snaps its jaws, teeth intent on sinking into flesh.

A grunt escapes him when the Nameless sinks their teeth in to him. He was used to being in situations like this and the closeness provided an opportunity to attack. He switches his weapon again to another knife and drives it in to the heart.

Now, he could only hope that would be enough to stop the Nameless.

The teeth bite through his shirt and into his flesh easily. It inhales, sucking not a single drop of blood, but knowledge.

But the knife drives into something clearly vital and before anything important could be stolen, it slumps, limp and lifeless.

San was expecting his blood to be lapped up like water, but instead he could feel it pour down his shoulder and in to his shirt. That was rather unusual. What was it intending to do by biting him like it? He wasn't an attractive chew toy.

When the being goes limp and lifeless, he pulls out the blade and lets the Nameless drop to the deck floor. He tilts his head before crouching down beside it as his wound starts to seal up with a dark substance.

"Well, you were quite a surprise." He states with a chuckle before tapping the blade beside the Nameless' mouth. "I wonder what else is different about you."

As much as he wanted to do an autopsy on it, he kept the knife's sharp edge firmly against the Nameless' neck, just in case it tried to get back up. He switches his eyes to their sensing state, mostly using it to keep track of things around him as he peers down at the injury he had made to stop it.

Sandrath needn't worry. The Nameless is well and truly dead. Another Nameless will be a long in a moment to clean up the mess.

There was no harm in being cautious and once he was sure it wasn't going to move, another Nameless had to show up. Just had to ruin his fun.

"I'm not done here. Go away." He ordered, waving the blood knife at them.

Sandrath is ignored in favor of scooping up its fallen kin and stuffing it unceremoniously in a box two sizes too small. Bones snap as it folds the lifeless body into unnatural positions. The Nameless works with frightful speed and precision and when it is done, picks up the box as if it weighs nothing at all and shambles its way down the hall.

The fallen arch-angel wasn't exactly pleased to see the Nameless he killed to be suddenly scooped up and stuffed in a box. Yet, he wasn't bothered by the crunch of bones and unnatural angles. It held his interest for a moment before the second Nameless was heading off with the deceased.

"...Hey! Wait!" He called out before getting up and intending to follow them.

He would need to pick up the pace to catch up. It would be for the best if he got rid of the bloody knife in his hand since there was no need to startle other passengers. Even though his current appearance was something to gape at with the giant tear in his shirt and skin, stained with blood.

The Nameless does not wait.

It shuffles along on a set path, its cargo in tow until it reaches the door to the stairwell.

Down it goes into the darkness where it vanishes from sight.

He continues to follow after the Nameless, even if his senses were distracting him with muddled information. Thankfully, he was able to turn it off and clear his head a bit as the Nameless passes through a door way before disappearing down a flight of stairs. That was interesting.

The darkness appeared to be inviting, but knowing his luck, he would be ejected from the shadows for trying to get inside them. For now, he would reluctantly let the being go and explore somewhere else.

When Sandrath steps out of the elevator he sees, well, nothing. There is nothing here on Deck 10 except an inky darkness. There are no sounds, no movement, just a void.

This was not what he was expecting to see. It was hard to make out anything beyond the few feet he could see and this deck had a completely different atmosphere compared to the other decks. Still, it wasn't enough to deter him from investigating.

Until he was suddenly bombarded with muddled information. It was more than what he was used to and takes a step back, only to collide against the closed doors of the elevator. To save himself from a massive headache, he turns off his senses and not wasting another second, he starts to snap his fingers to conjure a flame.

Unfortunately, the flame doesn't light up much of anything at all. There's almost a viscosity to the darkness, and even with the light of his flame Sandrath would barely be able to see his own feet. The further he travels in the heavier the darkness gets.

It was rather disappointing how much the flame didn't light up the room and a frown crossed his features as he extinguishes the fire. He could only hope that his eyes would eventually adjust to the darkness around him as he continues forward.

"I take it this place doesn't get many visitors." He said aloud. "I can see why."

No such luck. But, after a while, far off in the distance, San might notice a sudden twinkling of lights. They're small and disappear every few seconds.

Closer inspection will reveal what seems to be fireflies.

Edited 2014-10-09 00:37 (UTC)

The fallen arch-angel does notice those lights and squints a little to try and see them better. Sadly, that doesn't do much so he moves closer.

Once he's in range, he tilts his head at the fireflies and instead of trying to catch them, he extends an open hand out to them. Perhaps they would want to land in his palm.

"Can you talk?" He asks, although the likely answer is no.

Don't be silly, Sandrath! Fireflies can't talk. They do, however, seem attracted to his hand. The twinkling lights flutter closer, and every time he happens to blink there's more of them. A lot more.

Tons.

But they're fireflies. They can't do much harm can they?

Until one lands on the sleeve of his shirt and it suddenly catches fire.

He was giving it the benefit of the doubt. The silence was uncomfortable and kept him on edge, but watching the fireflies flock to his hand was amusing. Except, where were they coming from? He wasn't about to resort to his senses again since it didn't work the first time.

Then he felt a burning sensation on his arm and quickly looked over before putting out the flame with his hand holding the weapon. He turns his attention back down at the fireflies.

"I doubt that was rather necessary. I haven't done anything to provoke an attack."

Edited 2014-10-09 00:56 (UTC)

Attack? No, of course not. The fireflies just want to be friends! But more fireflies drift closer, hundreds of them, and anywhere they land on San catches fire immediately.

So, maybe not greatest of friends.

That's not very nice of them! He dismisses his weapon so he could extinguish the constant fire with his hands. While he did that, he starts to walk backwards at a quick pace.

"Cut it out." He growls at them, almost considering fighting fire with fire.

Now, if only he could find the way he came from and the elevator to get out of here.

The fireflies don't seem very agitated, but the do follow behind Sandrath lazily. Yelling at them doesn't seem very effective.

However, if he isn't too distracted, he might notice the briefest flicker off to the side. Not exactly a light, but a shimmer in the darkness.

"I can't help you."

He wasn't yelling, at least not yet. But, he was wishing that he had brought something with him to make an improvised flame thrower. Even though that would probably make his situation worse than it is if he had such a thing.

Thankfully, the fireflies were leaving him alone now. But he knew he wasn't safe just yet and had to keep up his guard. He calls back a weapon to his hand, this time in the form of a glove with long claws. Except, there was no noise for when the nails scrapped across the floor. That was strange.

It wasn't difficult for him to pick up on the faint voice. There was no other sound other than his own breathing. The comment didn't help his situation at all.

"Clearly."

There's an eerie silence now as the fireflies start to vanish, leaving behind the darkness once again. The silence lasts for several minutes and any attempts for Sandrath to find the elevator prove hopeless.

The silence is broken by a voice whispering in his ear.

"I can't help you."

With the fireflies gone now, he couldn't exactly assess how much damage he had sustained from the fire except for going off the smell of his singed skin and clothes. He takes a moment to heal himself, enduring the burn that came with the ability.

The voice catches him by surprise and his initial reaction is to swing his 'claws' at it. Not bothering to respond to it.

When Sandrath goes for the attack, he'll find there's nothing there. But there's a tangible change in the darkness around him. It seems to thicken, almost sticking to his skin, and the air may feel like breathing in syrup.

"Why did you come here? I ^can't _{help you!}"

A shriek pierces through the gloom from every direction.

"I can't let you go."

Edited 2014-10-09 03:50 (UTC)

Of course there was nothing there. Something was certainly messing with him and trying to make him feel claustrophobic. It didn't help that he was having a bit of difficulty breathing as he moves down the hall, swatting around himself with the nails and ignoring the nicks he was giving himself.

"Ever heard... about curiosity?" He asked before hearing the shriek. "...You really know how to make a guy feel welcomed."

That last comment was sarcastic as he decides to use his shadow mimicry. It would make traveling easier -- hopefully.

As Sandrath attempts to use his shadow mimicry, the voice wails deafeningly. And Sandrath will find he can't use his shadow mimicry at all. His weapon disappears. He's left feeling

weak.

Powerless.

Mortal?

A face flickers in front of him, gone in an instant.

"You're going to die here."

Or not. The wail causes him to cover his ears and because of that, notices that his weapon is missing from his hand. Why wasn't he in the shadows? So, he tries again but nothing changes. He should keep moving.

What was even more puzzling that he was feeling a lot heavier than normal. Where was that damn elevator?! The sudden flash of a face distracts him for a moment, trying to figure out who or what that was.

"That's not the first time I've heard that."

From behind him, another voice speaks. A different voice. One he might recognize.

"This is for your own good, Sandrath."

The darkness tightens around him even more, constricting like a snake.

"You're a monster."

That second voice was one that he definitely recognized. It belonged to his former mentor, Enos and it pained him to to hear that voice again. A bitter reminder of their verbal fight before he ended up on this ship. Enos couldn't possibly be here. He had been on this ship for a week, exploring all over and he didn't detect Enos' presence. Yet, it didn't stop him from lowering his hands and against his better judgment, he tries to turn to look for the source of the voice.

Except he wasn't able to get far as the darkness continues to surround him, confining him from moving at all. A grunt escapes him as he struggles against his 'restrains'. It was his own recklessness that got him here and he was bound to pay the price for it.

When he hears 'Enos' call him a monster, he can't help but laugh maniacally. "...It was your fault that I turned out this way!"

No, that wasn't true. It was his torturers during his first war that forced 'demon blood' down his throat and Enos was doing his best to gather a squad to rescue him. Through-out the years, Enos remained by his side. Helped him when he struggled and took over when he wasn't able to do the task. It was his own fault for getting addicted and willingly consume the substance that could kill him.

"No. It wasn't your fault." His voice had changed to a softer tone and his eyes were now blue. "You did everything in your power to help me. You were the only one who stayed with me when everyone else considered me broken. Yet, I disobeyed you and disappeared without saying good bye."

It wasn't possible for him to feel guilty about his decisions that lead him to this point in time. Enos had erased that from him 245 years ago.

"I still trust you, despite what I said last time. I know you'll make the right choice."

When Kenna set foot onto deck ten, he'd done so fully engulfed. Though his flames did not do much to cut through the darkness, it helped to keep the shadows from overtaking him. It was the light. Shadow could not exist where there was light.

It was easy to tell that there was something. Wrong. Off. The shadows moved and converged on a single point. And in the distance, he could hear her wail. There was someone here. And things were about to get really bad.

He followed the shadows as best he could, using what little light his flames provided as the shadows creeped along the walls and floor toward their target and in the darkness, he could see it. The writhing mass behind Sandrath, her mouth a gaping black void ready to close around him.

Kenna called the flames around one of his arms back and took Sandrath by the shoulder roughly, spinning him so that he might see the man on fire. "Why did you come here?" He demanded, though he knew there was no time for answers. "Go, you have to go! Now!"

This half of Sandrath was willing to accept his fate and had closed his eyes, waiting for his end to come. Except it didn't come.

The abrupt and rough treatment of being spun around causes him to open his eyes in surprise. He did not recognize this person standing in front of him and how they were able to remove his shadowy restrains so easily. Confusion was clear on his face in the limited light. Who were they? Just as he's about ask, he was receiving orders to run.

"I understand." He says with a stern tone, but his voice was still light and his eyes were still blue.

Without another word, he starts to move as quickly in the direction Kenna came from. Or as well as he can with his self-inflicted injuries.

Edited 2014-10-10 01:39 (UTC)

Kenna didn't care. There was a promise to be kept here and he would not break it.

He followed Sandrath as he ran toward the elevator, burning as brightly as he could to ward off the shadows.

When the elevator was in sight, Kenna pressed a hand into Sandrath's back to shove him into the car.

"Don't you ever come back here again. Ever."

Because if he did, being devoured by whatever lurked here would be the least of his concerns.

He appreciated the other man's assistance with the darkness that haunts this deck, but just as he's about to thank him, he was shoved in to the elevator car. He hits the far wall with a bit of grunt, barely catching himself with his hands.

When he hears the order to never come back down here, he only laughs before turning to face Kenna. His eyes were back to brown and his posture was completely different from before.

"Is that a threat?"

Kenna's flames burned hotly, flaring out against the shadowy backdrop.

"Yes," he growled. "Stay away from here. Or you will regret it."

He turned to go then, once he was sure the elevator doors shut tightly to take him away.

If the flames were being used as an intimidation tactic, it didn't work on him. He merely blinked and tilted his head, almost as if he was curious. Sure, he had visible signs of damage from his venture through this deck, even though he tried to hide his internal conflict. His clothes were singed and torn in various places, with blood staining the material.

"Yet you're free to come down here as you please? I don't think that's very fair." He sounded rather disappointed about that, despite nearly dying several minutes ago.

He moves over to the elevator doors and holds a hand to block the sliding doors, making it clear he wasn't ready to leave. They were having a conversation and if Kenna intended on shoving him back in, he could easily come back down to this deck with a swipe of his card key.

Edited 2014-10-10 03:36 (UTC)

"I don't care what you think is fair."

The sobbing, the incessant sobbing in the background sets Kenna on edge. He had to go to her. Why was he still here arguing with Sandrath?

He turns because the doors have not closed and Sandrath is still here. His flames flare out, burning dangerously close to the elevator doors. It is too dark to tell if he's burned them or not.

"LEAVE!"

Kenna's response is met with a scoff, but his attention is pulled away by the sobbing behind the man covered in flames. That was interesting. He had not heard anything before except for a deafening wail and Enos' voice.

A flame licks at a fingertip and a small sound escapes him as he pulls back his hand with a shake. He could easily heal that by balling his fist, except the pain doesn't subside and the familiar burn that he would feel when using it never came. That wasn't right.

"Tell me what is going on in there." He demands, his tone becoming more hostile as he realizes that his abilities were missing. "What did that thing do to me?!"

Edited 2014-10-10 15:53 (UTC)

Kenna'd had enough.

He turned to leave. Sandrath would lose the protection of his light.

"Get out of here. Now. Or you'll find out."

San wasn't impressed with the lack of answer, but he wasn't going to throw his life away pursuing the man back in to the shadows. So, he just glares at Kenna's back and as he reluctantly presses a button to a different deck.

The sound of the doors closing would be enough to clue the other man of what he did.

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[Open] I think with my heart and I move with my head. I open my mouth and it's something I've read.

Interacting with Nameless

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Deck 10

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