ARES PATERA
Warlock
Posts: 225
Age:
36
Occupation:
Sheriff's Deputy
Status:
Single
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Aug 31, 2024 18:03:29 GMT
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Post by ARES PATERA on May 28, 2022 14:42:23 GMT
Working the night shift on your own was exponentially worse than working the days without a partner. Sitting in the patrol car by the Wickery Bridge as the bars let out, ferrying drunk locals to the station to sleep off bad decisions and work up a good head of regret that would have them paying their fines without a single peep of protest in the morning, swabbing their apologies out of the back seat if that journey went wrong. Slowly dying of boredom as you waited in a near empty station for something to come in. Actually filling out the paperwork you were a couple of days – alright, a couple of weeks, but who was counting – behind on. Slowly tearing your hair out. Ares had felt the pain of it all.
A dozen times he’d caved and pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over Claire’s number – he might’ve called if it wasn’t likely to be Damon picking it up, leaving him to dry heave for the minutes he was forced to talk to him – Brooke’s, even worse, because that would just be an excuse to go found the nearest brick wall to smash his head again. Eros’. Clio’s. His parents’. Anything to ease the tedium. Each time he got tired of scrolling and set it aside in the end, telling himself he didn’t need to be occupied. He was a big boy, wearing the big boy nylon uniform, and he could get through one shift on his lonesome.
Liar.
Those nylon pants were practically on fire when the female civilian on dispatch for the night – Margie, sweet Margie – called him out of the break room. Ares hadn’t cared how desperate he’d looked when he’d plucked the suspicious persons call slip out of her hand and had torn out of there like there were really flames crawling up his crack.
Was all the extra shifts worth this? The rollercoaster ride of every shifts and the extra frustration they brought in all forms – reckless witches shattering the windows of stores run by total Karens (alright, he’d seen the appeal in that after the old biddy had screeched in his ear a while – shoplifting teenagers, nights of never ending torment solo in the patrol car. At some point the improvements to the house would peter out and he wouldn’t have that shingle clad hole burning its way right through his bank balance. Some day.
Thoughts of doing out the loft space of the cabin to make a little spot for Clio when she finally got her ass out of Miami flickered through his mind like the traffic lights zipping out of the corner of his eye as he raced the car – with lights only – across town. By the time he reached the industrial estate on the edge of town images of dormer windows and half baths had fled under the relentless assault of adrenalin.
Ares was on high alert as he stopped the car at the corner of the car parts warehouse, hazel eyes sweeping the darkened nest of alleyways, hand hovering over his holster, fingers ready to flip the clasp and draw at the slightest provocation. The air was cool in his lungs, still carrying with it the perfume of the rapidly dwindling spring. Soon he’d hiding out in the station between calls, tucked under the AC unit with the fervour of a man who’d tapped on his limit of scorching hot days in places a lot sandier than this.
Between this building and the next there was a faint amber glow that his eyes caught on. A flashlight? Someone working late? Fire. The smoke belched out suddenly, leaving him dragging the neck of his shirt up over his mouth as he approached. There was a rattle, another plume of sparks and smoke as he reached the corner and found the dumpster between the buildings alight. In the glow at the other side there was a shift of shadows, a scrawny little form bolting into the smoke dragged that way by a gust of wind. ”Hey! Police, stop! God damn asshole.” He’d twitched, pulled his service weapon and had it up in warning by the contents of the dumpster shifted again, sparks drifting up towards the roof of the building. This place was probably a tinder box, chemicals just ready to blow his night to pieces.
Ares shoved his gun back into his belt, held out both hands as he scowled at the flames. His people had been able to conjure fire and extinguish it probably since the days Prometheus had scuttled down from the Gods with the gift. ”Θεά φέρε τη βροχή. Σβήσε ό,τι μαίνεται εδώ, ευλόγησε τον αέρα και τον παραλήπτη των δώρων σου. Ευλογήστε μας.” Immediately the air began to coalesce, a mist forming around him that gathered like dew on his skin and swept down in a wave across the top of the dumpster, catching those sparks, pluming in steam instead of smoke. He waited til the glow had dimmed before dropping his hands, whipping them up again immediately as he heard another sound at the end of the alley.
A quieter step, a slighter figure, no less tension in the muscles the gripped the pistol this time. His eyes fixed on her, fines lines springing up at the corners as he gestured at her with the muzzle of the weapon. ”Police, put your hands up and step back.” Ares was sure it hadn’t been the same figure that had bolted before he wasn’t fresh off the boat, there were no coincidences when it came to anything here in Mystic Falls.
Tagged: LAMIA * Word Count: 933 Translation: Goddess bring the rain. Extinguish what rages here, bless the air and the recipient of your gifts. Bless us. |
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LAMIA
Demon
Posts: 41
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 3, 2024 14:01:25 GMT
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Post by LAMIA on Jun 17, 2022 0:15:55 GMT
 ━ rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men ━
Chaos drew her, though the flash of fire just around the corner twinkled in her blue eyes and coaxed the demon closer. She hadn’t seen who’d started it, but she certainly saw who put it out. Revelling in the aftermath of the flames, Lamia slinked closer, towards the thick steam and the sizzle of the extinguished fire. One hand gripped her elegant dress━no matter what the Angel said about it━while her head dipped forward curiously, flashing an entertained grin at the man.
She could understand him, and he wasn’t a demon nor an Angel. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until he returned to that unintelligible tongue, waving those fire-extinguishing hands around as if he could hurt her━could he? Likely not. Not even with that metal... item he held in her direction. Lamia didn’t stop her languid strides even though she could clearly tell he was threatening her; she didn’t have to speak that language to understand his body and tone of voice. The demon, however, couldn’t care less, and kept smiling, stopping only a few strides from the… hm, magic-user?
“Witch.” Lamia tipped her chin up as if regarding a new toy, rolling her tongue in an excited purr. “How is it that you know this ancient tongue? I was beginning to believe I was trapped again, bound to only speak to beings as old as myself.” This one seemed to worship a Goddess, which made Lamia wonder about his age. Eventually, she had to come to terms with the fact that the religion she believed in while she was alive was untrue. There was only one God, and she didn’t much like him. “You appear… well, not elderly.” Lamia cackled, “Though, you are not one of us, as I can plainly see. How old are you, Witch?” Lamia narrowed her eyes curiously, studying him and growing a minuscule amount of hope for this new world.
ARES PATERA | no notes. |
|
ARES PATERA
Warlock
Posts: 225
Age:
36
Occupation:
Sheriff's Deputy
Status:
Single
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Aug 31, 2024 18:03:29 GMT
|
Post by ARES PATERA on Jun 29, 2022 18:17:18 GMT
In Miami your usual Friday or Saturday night would be spent trying to handle the drunk and hopped up. It was like wrangling monkeys, big, angry, super strong monkeys with absolutely zero sense of logic, or the law. Mystic Falls might’ve had its issues, but that sort of wanton violence and mayhem didn’t happen here the same way. Maybe that had left him soft, or maybe it had just left him side stepping. Different circumstances, a different set of problems for Deputy Patera to solve. On this side of the world he couldn’t immediately solve with the weapon he had aimed at the aimed at the fresh threat. If you shot everybody who caused trouble in this town someone would notice pretty fast. Tear their throat out on the other hand…
There’d been that brief flicker of consideration at the back of his brain, as there always was here. Human or not? It had to be instinctual. There were things in Mystic Falls that could tear his throat out in a heartbeat, even with his augmented abilities. Ares studied the woman who drifted closer into the dimming light of the fire. Shadows clad her pale hair, bare arms and dress – not the sort of thing he saw every day here – as that orange glow disappeared. Human seeming, although he was proof that plenty of things could fool you on looks alone.
Adjusting his grip on the weapon, tensing slightly, Ares took a careful step back. Weight braced on the balls of his feet in case he had to move faster. The smile had him frowning. Maybe he’d been wrong about people here not being all cracked out on something. He lifted his chin, indicating with the weapon again. ”Stay right there. Hands in full sight.” The muzzle ticked upwards, like he could encourage her to lift her hands in the air. Supernaturals didn’t need to pull a weapon to get to you though. In a heartbeat she could’ve crossed the gap between the two of them and been on him.
Witch. Warlock, honey. Spoken with far too much excitement, and not in English either.
The frown deepened as Ares tilted his head at her. Greek. More ancient than his own tongue, but the language hadn’t changed beyond all recognition in the last couple of thousand years. Fuck. ”Trapped?” he echoed tightly, in that same tongue. Ares hummed in his discomfort, his grip on the weapon growing slippery. His own partner had a whole century and change on him. ”I might be far from Greece, but my family don’t forget where they came from.” Or where their gifts were from. The old country was one steeped in power, even if most now chose not to see or feel it.
Staying cool under fire had been trained into him – a hothead given that chill edge (yeah, he could pull it off when he needed it) – and Ares maintained it now. The cackle had the hair on the back of his neck rising, a ripple of goose flesh following him as she eyed him like a particularly interesting exhibit in a zoo. ”What are ‘us’?” he asked, half curious, half sure that finding out would leave curiosity killing the cat. ”Not elderly, I’ll give you that. Thirty five and it’s warlock, thanks. Let me guess, you’re just well preserved for your age?” He couldn’t throw back what she was at her. Vampires had an age limit, the Original family being the cut off point, but there were shapeshifters and other things well before that.
Tagged: LAMIA * Word Count: 591 |
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LAMIA
Demon
Posts: 41
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 3, 2024 14:01:25 GMT
|
Post by LAMIA on Jul 14, 2022 22:36:59 GMT
━ rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men ━
“Yes, trapped. I guess that, just because you speak my language, I cannot assume you are more intelligent than the other men I have met in this new world.” Lamia laughed lightly, mostly to herself, and took another step closer even though he did not lower his hands.
“Greece.” Lamia rolled her eyes, speaking in a voice that was clearly far from amused. “So beautiful, so much potential.” But was her way of ruling a kingdom truly what would’ve made their country better? It had survived all these years while nobody knew what her kingdom was at all. She’d risen from her would-be tomb somewhere near Greece━it seemed they’d won more land than they’d had before. And, little did she know, they ran their country similarly to how she would’ve.
“Us. The powerful ones, who do not age nor require sustenance of any kind. Who spread a wickedness sought by humans, allowing them to drown in their worst━most delicious━desires.” She cackled, closing the gap between them in a ghost-like drift of movement, practically dancing over to the witch. She wouldn’t be corrected, especially not by the likes of him. She’d gone through that already with not-Lucifer, and while that was embarrassing enough, Lamia knew she was right this time around.
Nearing him, the demon completely ignored the ‘weapon’ in his hands and lifted one of her own, the backs of her digits brushing gently down his cheek. She felt the scrape of his facial hair, as if she needed to test for herself how old he truly was. “Five years older than I was before they killed me.” Lamia commented to herself again, a cool, sharp gaze studying his features until they flicked up to his own eyes. “Preserved against my will.” She hissed, as if he was to blame. Ultimately, it was still a sensitive topic she didn’t enjoy being reminded of. And, while that wasn’t his fault, it certainly didn’t make Lamia very pleasant.
“I want to see what else those hands are capable of, Witch.” Tipping up her chin, Lamia smirked just barely, knowing what her words sounded like, though she only intended to see his magic in action.
ARES PATERA | no notes. |
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ARES PATERA
Warlock
Posts: 225
Age:
36
Occupation:
Sheriff's Deputy
Status:
Single
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Aug 31, 2024 18:03:29 GMT
|
Post by ARES PATERA on Jul 27, 2022 14:17:34 GMT
Being underestimated on first sight had come in handy more than once on the job. In the Marines it was a different story. You put a uniform on, had a weapon in your hands, it was pretty damn obvious you probably knew what you were doing. Switch that out for some brown or navy blue polyester and people assumed you spent your entire life sat in a patrol car, coffee in one hand, donuts in the other, your ass slowly spreading and your arteries hardening. It didn’t occur to them that it had been a choice not to take the detective exam and jump up the ladder. He was capable of being Detective Patera if he wanted to be, was sure as hell capable of levelling a bland look at the woman in front of him as she attempted to cut him off at the ego with that tinkle of laughter.
Ares’ own smile slid in blandly to replace that frown for a moment. New world. Everything tripping out of her mouth screamed old, and therefore, dangerous enough that the steps towards him had something low in his belly wisely clutching tight. ”I’m gonna take that as a compliment, although I’m guessing if it’s places like this you’ve been crawling around since your arrival, it’s a pretty low bar I’m gonna have to climb over.” That tumble of hair and the grandeur of the dress – he wasn’t as fashion challenged as a closet filled with combats, canvas and camo suggested – spoke of something more than grubby alleyways and guys whose brains had been fried with whatever went up their noses or in their veins.
She wasn’t gonna stop sticking her nose in the air though. Each little jab at him stripped away another thin layer of self-control. Goddess, she was lucky he had some sense of ‘don’t mess with this bitch’ from her, or those layers would’ve been an inch thick and she’d already had been on the ground, garbage juice soaking into that dress. Ares’ gaze twitched over her again, trying to pick out some sign that screamed which of the old worlds she’d been a part of. ”Not your home then,” he observed. ”It still has so much potential, if you look close.” The power that had once steeped the country had slowly faded though, petering out in new generations ignorant of it all. Nico Patera had made sure that his children hadn’t forgotten.
He, Eros and Clio had grown up on tales of ancient Greece: Gods and Goddesses, still to be revered, creatures of all sorts, sirens, witches, warlocks, things so powerful you still did not question them. Ares had never imagined he would come across one even in Mystic Falls, but now he was staring at one the sudden gravity of the situation threatened to spill him to his knees. Vampire? The frown that had knotted his brows was back, heavy enough to have a headache spreading beneath. He’d spent enough time with Claire to be sure he knew the signs. No matter how much of an asshole Damon was even he wouldn’t have described them as the sort to spread a wickedness. ”A temptress?” Ares questioned, not allowing his gaze to drop down as she approached. Sirens walked the earth despite all the stories but that mental image of Ariel remained. ”There’s plenty of competition for that in this town.” And obviously plenty of things he wasn’t aware of.
Lightly, trying not to bolt, Ares took a half step back, footing sure on the damp blacktop. He wasn’t backing himself into a corner, just giving himself the space to knock her on her ass with everything he had if he needed to. Killed her, preserved her, if that didn’t scream vampire he didn’t know what did. At the hiss Ares twitched. The weapon would likely do nothing but it was still there between them. ”Just how many years did they preserve you for, before you came to this new world?” No. The vampires had originated with the Mikaelsons, if she were truly as ancient as her language suggested, she’d have predated them by centuries.
Like bees had taken flight in his head, Ares shook his head against the buzzing that rose up in his ears. It was a temptation, to throw her back with the power that was his at a call, and he knew it would be a curse when all the power in that goddess like shell tore out at him. He cocked his head, considering dancing that razor thin line between. The muzzle of his weapon slid sideways slowly, his gaze not leaving hers as he squeezed a shot off aiming up into the rotting rafters of the warehouse beside them. Not a hundred percent guaranteed not to harm someone else but as close to it as he could get. In the ringing that filled the alleyway, he fell back to his mother tongue. ”Θεά, φέρε αυτό που πέταξε πίσω σε αυτά τα χέρια που σου προσφέρουν λατρεία. Αναμορφώστε τα σπασμένα κομμάτια, αφήστε τα να λάμπουν σαν τη δόξα που ξεχύνεται από εσάς.” There was a metallic tinkle, a rush of wind and the shiny brass projectile zipped back to land in the palm he peeled off of the weapon to hold up between him and the temptress before him.
Tagged: LAMIA * Word Count: 888 Translation: Goddess, bring that which has flown back to these hands that offer you worship. Reform the shattered pieces, let it gleam like the glory that spills from you. |
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LAMIA
Demon
Posts: 41
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 3, 2024 14:01:25 GMT
|
Post by LAMIA on Aug 15, 2022 19:55:55 GMT
━ rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men ━
Still, the conversation shifted to her, and though she thought her definition was practically perfect, he still seemed to lack understanding. Lamia’s face shifted again, teeth gritting together, those bright blue eyes narrowed in a glare. Her fist tightened around her dress as she moved, muscles rigid. “You think me a siren?” Lamia nearly snapped, “No. Never,” She growled, “Those creatures are beneath me, everyone is. I won’t take such an insult━for you to assume I could be one of them, relying on anything more than my beauty to gain the affection of others.” Lamia shook her head sharply, puffing up like a hissing cat, letting out offended gasps of breath. Her mother and sisters were sirens, but she wasn’t ‘gifted’ with the same abilities, and they’d teased her relentlessly for it. For a long time, all Lamia wanted was to be one of them, but they had been killed when they were questioned, and Lamia lasted. Now, she was offended at the mere suggestion.
“There cannot be competition when I win every time. They might be competing,” The aforementioned ones below her, “But that is of no consequence to my rule.” Her anger was tempered by her ego, and a wide, nasty smile began to crawl across her lips. The dark cloud returned when she thought of her death, of how they stole her Kingdom from her.
There was no way for Lamia to tell the year she was born and how long it’d been since then. No manner of worldwide organization had been decided until after Christ’s crucifixion, and that was long following her own death━she didn’t even know who He was. She did know, however, that it had to be bordering on forever. The demon merely continued to grin at the witch, leaning in a little closer to whisper, “More years than you could ever count, darling. More lifetimes than each person in this miserable town combined.” She purred her admission, ticking up her chin proudly.
He hadn’t moved from her touch until his head began to shake, and even then, Lamia’s palm only dropped to his chest. Her brows furrowed, watching the witch and his strange act, wondering if he’d heard her. She was about to repeat herself when, finally, he responded. A little shiver ran through her at the weapon’s sound, tingling all the way up from her toes until it spread to her face, making her eyes dazzle. Though she didn’t know what it was, it was clearly something that could kill a human in a matter of seconds. Lamia enjoyed the thought.
The witch maintained eye contact, and Lamia appreciated that about him. She sucked in a breath as he began to pray, beginning some kind of ritual. It was the same as the language they spoke together, his being somewhat changed from her own, but not so much that she couldn’t understand him.
In an instant, the shiny object was back in his hands, and Lamia’s eyes blew wide, more excited than she had been when he’d sent it flying. “Oh, how wonderful,” She giggled, dropping her dress to reach out and touch the shrunken, metal arrow, her other hand still on his chest. It was burning hot, so much so that Lamia hissed as she delicately picked it up and inspected it closely. “This could kill a man, could it not?” Lamia sounded happy━amazed, even. “A truly breathtaking invention.” She decided, then rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, almost as though it was a reward. And it was━the witch was just lucky he was worthy of it now.
“Why do you pray to a Goddess that doesn’t exist, Witch?” Lamia asked suddenly, pulling her gaze from the bullet and back to him, eager to ruin the rest of his day. “I once believed, too━as we all did in my time. I have seen the truth now, however, and know that Her existence would mitigate my own. Your power comes from within, does it not?” Cocking her head curiously, she studied the man, wishing to tear apart his beliefs and leave him scrambling for answers. On the other side, though, it meant he believed in a false, heathen god━something that would send him straight to hell.
ARES PATERA | no notes. |
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ARES PATERA
Warlock
Posts: 225
Age:
36
Occupation:
Sheriff's Deputy
Status:
Single
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Aug 31, 2024 18:03:29 GMT
|
Post by ARES PATERA on Aug 28, 2022 14:22:17 GMT
Ares’ brow furrowed at the woman’s scoff, those jigsaw pieces in his brain that usually gave a quiet click where everything was slipping into place right sticking. It wasn’t a picture he thought he’d see in Mystic Falls, despite the prevalence of supernaturals here. This wasn’t the old country, the ancient ones here – if that was what she was – were of a different kind to all the stories he’d heard growing up. This world was different and so, with that imperiousness rolling off of her, the woman stood out further than anyone else who’d stumbled into his path.
How did you go from that to this? The dividing line between combat and civilian life had been a hard enough one to cross and that had been with half of his life already rooted there. This line had to be a mile wide and suddenly it felt as though he was straddling it, straddling the centuries his own ancestors had twined through.
He didn’t flinch as her expression shifted at least, remaining rooted on the damp blacktop as she glared at him. Her fingers tightened on her dress – if she wasn’t careful she’d end up rending it like the women on the cover of those cheesy romance novels his mom had read when he was a teenager. The little lines between Ares’ brows thickened. ”You said it – don’t age, don’t require sustenance, you get people to drown in their desires…” He’d gone for the easiest option out of the things that could do that, but she sure as hell wasn’t in agreement. That growl to her voice raised the hair on his arms, leaving him wonder if she’d launch herself at him like a big cat, even the hissing, yowling complaints of a far smaller one. ”Then what are you? A goddess?” There were plenty in the old stories and they hadn’t been above visiting humanity, bestowing upon them the blessing of their presence. She certainly acted like she was used to ruling others.
The swipe for his assumption didn’t come, just that smile that would’ve had most guys bowels turning to water if they could feel the shiver of power that had crept over his skin in that oily sensation since she’d arrived. No competition. A big claim in a town like this.
Ares’ palms began to sweat as he finally started to fall back. There’d be no bolting. Even with every ounce of power he could bring to bear thrown at her, he likely wouldn’t even get back to his car before she was on him. A lioness old enough and powerful enough to gut him without an ounce of effort. ”You don’t look a day over two hundred…” Ares said dryly, almost choking himself on the knee jerk comment. His fingers curled into his palms, pressing the damp back into them like it would disappear if he did it hard enough. The Original vampires were here, combined they’d have practically taken them back to the stone age.
His skin crawled where she touched, her palm sliding down to his chest, like it was pinning him there. Ares felt his heart beat against the underside of his ribs, the rhythm kept under control but feeling as though it was squeezing harder than usual with every beat. She didn’t pull away as he shot into the air, although most would have recoiled from the feel of the magic in the air, even if they didn’t at the bark of the weapon. Eyes on her Ares worked the spell aloud, the Greek accent thickening, just as his father’s always had when they were being taught. Maybe she caught enough of it to get the gist of what he was doing but when that excitement rushed through her, he felt it.
A shudder ran through him, like ripples from the bullet that had landed in his palm. Nowhere near enough speed to pierce the skin, but an impact all the same. The goddess giggled, plucking up the hot bullet while she kept him pinned in place. ”It could kill most things if it was aimed right,” he said lightly, keeping the threat from his voice. That didn’t include beings as old or as powerful as her. ”Humanity’s been coming up with ways of killing each other for as long as we’ve existed. Haven’t they?” She’d know. The kiss came suddenly, like a reward for the winner of a race in the original Olympics. The kiss didn’t sizzle on his skin as he’d though it might, although Ares was sure he felt it in every cell right down to his toes.
Not a goddess. His radar had swung back and forth on what she was until he felt dizzy with it. Ares stared down at her, that perturbed look still puckering his features slightly. ”Belief doesn’t always disappear with proof,” he said tightly. He’d seen that in hundreds of places across the globe, but the bigger lack of proof was what kept most hanging on. The things he’d seen should’ve left his own power and religion a moot point, but it didn’t always work that way. ”From my blood,” Ares said hoarsely, hoping to hell that didn’t drive her towards trying to inspect that the way she had the bullet. He reached up folding his fingers cautiously around her wrist – although that impudence might come back and bite him. ”It was gifted to my ancestors by the goddess herself. The power passed down. Surely that is proof of her existence?” Their existence. The entire pantheon whose power had blessed Greece once upon a time.
Tagged: LAMIA * Word Count: 931 |
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LAMIA
Demon
Posts: 41
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 3, 2024 14:01:25 GMT
|
Post by LAMIA on Sept 24, 2022 20:07:22 GMT
━ rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men ━
Well, she was before━a Queen, sure, but that was neither here nor there. Same thing when Lamia was involved. Now, though, the notion had a small recoil building in her stomach. Anything Godly was wretched to her now, though Lamia would still love to be worshipped like one. Actually, she thought suddenly, the Pagans weren’t Holy; they were false gods. So, fine, Goddess it was. At least to him.
Lamia nodded and, at the comment about her age, didn’t understand that it wasn’t necessarily a compliment. Lamia beamed at him anyway, tipping her chin up proudly. “Oooh, I should hope not. Well-preserved, remember?” Though she’d snapped at him for making the same comment. Now that she could turn it around and use it herself, Lamia didn’t mind it so much!
She slinked closer to get a better look at his little trick, feeling the buzz of magic against her skin. Lamia took the bullet in her hand, feeling the heat and weight in her palm. “Most things,” She purred, deciding not to warn him about getting any bright ideas. Quite honestly, she’d like to see him try. It would only add more amusement to her day!
“You are correct.” Lamia nodded, her voice light and sing-songy, almost as if announcing his victory. “Blades were sharpened until they would pierce the skin with little force.” Both arms looped around his shoulders now, getting awfully close to the witch’s face. “Akinakes, which I am sure you have heard of…” If he was a good boy and focused on his studies like he ought to. Lamia inched closer, “And long spears,” She whispered the words a hairsbreadth from his lips, though pulled back a few inches after a pregnant pause, her blue eyes glittering wildly up at him.
Lamia tossed her head back to cackle once more, golden hair dancing in waves down her dress. As she quieted, she listened to his explanation about his faith. Though it was entirely misplaced, which she pointed out, he still defended it. Mortals were silly, and their life was fleeting, however, so what did it matter anyway? Well, all Lamia wished to do was tear his life apart; was that too much to ask?
She supposed it would take a little more effort. She graciously obliged.
“Perhaps in your mind, that is reasonable proof.” Lamia offered, seemingly without much care. She allowed him to grasp her wrist for now, though in a moment she might break it if she saw fit. “Blood…” She parrotted, sliding the hand that wasn’t pinned by him. Lamia grazed the nail of her index finger over his jaw, then suddenly swiped down the edge of his neck, moving it across the spot where his jugular thundered beneath, though she did not break skin. “Blood is a gift for those you pray to. It is spilled as an offering; it is not given to mortals for any other purpose.”
Lamia took a few seconds to pause once more, pressing her index finger’s pad against his throat. Finally, she exhaled━though it was not necessary for her━and grinned, “Ah, I do not mind in either case.” Her finger slipped from him and her grasp shifted to his shoulder.
“Are you willing to rot in Hell for your beliefs? Your afterlife does not exist, darling. I know as much.” Lamia cooed, eyes flicking up to his after they’d been trailing the length of his throat. Suddenly, they were pitch black, and her wrist━clasped by his own━twisted to snatch him like a fly in a trap. “I suppose we shall meet again, so long as the dedication to your false god remains strong.” She hissed, releasing him with a shove at his shoulders, her voice taunting, “And what would you be if not a witch?”
ARES PATERA | end w yours?  |
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ARES PATERA
Warlock
Posts: 225
Age:
36
Occupation:
Sheriff's Deputy
Status:
Single
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Aug 31, 2024 18:03:29 GMT
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Post by ARES PATERA on Sept 29, 2022 19:10:27 GMT
That laugh enough should have been proof that he’d stumbled too far in a situation where he was out of his depth. It was an almost alien feeling and Ares hated it. No matter how wild or explosive things had gotten in the past, he’d always been able to find a way through it, to lead others through it. A sensible head might not’ve come easily to him, but when it came to those knife edge situations he was able to put one in the game. Now sense told him he was in the presence of something, someone old and powerful enough to remove his head with nothing but her little finger and that imperious attitude that rang in her cackle.
If she’d answered his question instead of just laughing, maybe that knot in the pit of his stomach would’ve eased and he could’ve scrambled back up to the level where he wasn’t hella intimidated. She’d laughed, stared him down, but then there was the silence and some tiny part of him wanted to shake the answer out of her. A really fucking stupid part of him. Ares swallowed hard, taking another step into that verbal minefield, luckily seeing her nod back at him instead of swiping with that little finger. ”You could probably sell the secret of it,” he joked hoarsely, although he doubted she’d see the humour in it. Old things never seemed to have much of a sense of humour, Damon Salvatore included. They were proud, arrogant, ballsy, but not great wits.
His own balls seemed to be doing a decent job of trying to lodge themselves up against his tonsils, the same way that bullet would’ve lodged against ancient bone and attractive flesh if he’d shot at her, instead of up into the air to show off for her. Ares watched her fingers curl around the bullet, caught the edge in her voice as she echoed his words – some sort of warning not to do what he’d just pictured, like he’d have had the balls for it. Hazel eyes ticked up from the bullet to her. ”You only draw your weapon and aim it if you’re prepared to kill what you’re looking at.” The muzzle of his weapon hadn’t been on her since she’d slunk close to him, wouldn’t be on her now. If she came for him the bullets wouldn’t do half as much as his power might and that was little enough.
The shiver cut through him as the goddess wrapped her around his shoulders, close enough to kiss, which she practically did. He could feel the vibration of her loaded words against his lips. Ares forced himself to still in her touch like she was a viper that would bite. ”Daggers, from the old world. Weapons that could do just as much damage, just far slower.” Now you didn’t have to get this close to kill, although if the goddess had a weapon she could’ve rammed it through his heart, while the proximity of her mouth to his had him distracted.
His eyes locked on hers, with that same shiver of anticipation rolling down through the spot where his ‘nads were burrowing up towards the relative safety and warmth of the pit of his stomach. He almost imagined her fingers following them, like they were a glamour thrown at him, but then her head was tipping back, that wild cackle rolling out to drive the sensation away. The pantheon were always described as sensual creatures and this goddess, as much as she seemed to hate the word, was no different. Was it hatred of her own kind that had her denying it, or were there beings out there just as powerful, just as scary?
Nico had sat his children down to hear the stories of their origins, of the power that had been passed down from generation to generation almost from the time the gods and goddesses had walked the earth. He had taken those beliefs to heart, had wrapped his gift around them, now that this creature was mocking them, Ares felt the stirrings of temper under all that fear. ”What is in my mind is certain,” he muttered tightly. Goddess! He didn’t manage to say the word aloud as what had been the gentle graze of a nail almost became a bloodletting. Ares reared back, almost breaking out of her grip. ”That’s kinda old fashioned, we don’t go around sacrificing that way anymore.” Not human blood at least, which would’ve been all they’d likely found of him here if she’d done as she’d threatened.
Ares had to force himself to stay there, his grip on her wrist anchoring him, just like the press of her finger against his throat. He remained stiff until she let a breath out. His brows remained furrowed, unsure how to take her decision. ”I’m willing to trust my gods and goddesses to leave me where they believe is fitting in the end.” Those beliefs were stronger than the creature’s threats, at least for now. If she started making right on them and clawed her way through his jugular then all bets were off.
Fuck it, they were off now. Those pale blue pools of her irises flooded black and this time Ares was scrambling back as she shoved at his shoulder, pushing him away from her like he’d suddenly fallen out of favour. ”I’m already something,” he said hoarsely. ”A police officer.” A sensible one. Released, he wasn’t going to stand there and find out what would follow the hiss and that threat to meet again. His hand on his weapon, fingers twitching, Ares backed up the alleyway, not daring to turn until he lost sight of the thing, her in the shadows that gathered in the space between the warehouses without the fire burning. The radio crackled as he climbed in and locked the door, dispatch asking for his location, but he wasn’t saying a word until he was well out of there. Ares gunned the engine, squealing out before she changed her mind about their acquaintance.
Tagged: LAMIA (finished) * Word Count: 1012 |
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