09-07-2024, 12:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-09-2024, 12:47 AM by Jaxen Marveet.)
There was much about the scene that Jaxen couldn’t look away. Who didn’t get a kick out of spying on a pair of hot people humping? But the curve of Oriena’s ass sitting on Nox, the sly smile as she twisted over her shoulder at him, it wasn’t the worst thing ever. Add in the fact she was practically strangling the poor guy to death, well, Jaxen might have watched out of sheer curiosity if she would actually go through with it. For one thing, if they ever fucked again, it would give him decent insight into the state of his own danger, for instance. For another, well, it was just plain weird.
But he knew the difference between a friendly warning and a warning. “Lame,” he said, rolling his eyes. He started to slip back out the way he came, but not before giving Oriena a nice Ancient-Power-fueled slap on the asscheek on his way out. The glow of red that bloomed made him smirk like the devil he was.
He wandered back toward the main party, devil mask firmly back in place, disenchanted with the affair, and assumed he’d leave, having struck out three times in a row. Only, as he approached, he noticed the music was different from before. Perhaps different was the wrong word… it was more. He began to walk in rhythm to the beat. His head bobbing as his body swayed beneath him as though enchanted.
The first tendrils of emotion curled its way into his chest, but it was a sensation he recognized. From Almaz…. and farther back.. from the bathhouse.
Beneath his mask, a brow furrowed deep. He thrust his hands over his ears, gathered a shit ton of the ancient power into himself, and rushed in, searching for a familiar face, fighting the noise attempting to poison his brain.
He found it quickly.
“Hello there, little buddy.” He doubted the kid would realize the danger he was in, especially given Jaxen's devilish disguise, but given his propensity for manipulation of tongues, he might recognize Jaxen's voice.
If not, too bad for him.
He stretched out his hand and the air began to shimmer. At first, it's subtle—a ripple, as if reality itself is bending around them. The furniture that the kid stood upon began to shake, glowing in tendrils of gold and yellow streaks as if it might break into a thousand pieces at any moment. They lifted around the kid's feet like serpents from the earth, weaving in and out of each other, forming intricate knots and coils. They might have clamped around those vulnerable legs, but Jaxen wasn't interested in pure binding. This was a performance! A spectacle to instill the same sense of awe and fear that he endured at the hands of his captors.
With a dramatic sweep of his arm, the tendrils exploded into hundreds of tiny, glittering illusions: butterflies, locusts, wasps and bees all made of shimmering light. They swirled around the kid, faster and faster, creating a dazzling whirlwind that made it impossible to see beyond the riot of colors and shapes. It looked like chaos, but Jaxen's power was precise. As the illusions closed in, they begin to solidify—turning into solid ropes of light, glowing brighter and tighter, binding the kid's arms and legs in an intricate, shimmering web.
Then, in one final flourish, Jaxen snapped his fingers. The web contracted sharply, lifting the kid into the air—hovering just a foot high, wrapped in gleaming, pulsating threads of raw magic where he hovered, cocooned in a display that’s part artwork, part prison.
The devil walked casually around his captive. There were few remaining witnesses, but those that stayed cowered safely away. "Don't worry--you're not hurt. Not yet. Let's see how long that holds, shall we? First, the cannibals. Second, the aliens. What will be your third trick, little buddy?"
But he knew the difference between a friendly warning and a warning. “Lame,” he said, rolling his eyes. He started to slip back out the way he came, but not before giving Oriena a nice Ancient-Power-fueled slap on the asscheek on his way out. The glow of red that bloomed made him smirk like the devil he was.
He wandered back toward the main party, devil mask firmly back in place, disenchanted with the affair, and assumed he’d leave, having struck out three times in a row. Only, as he approached, he noticed the music was different from before. Perhaps different was the wrong word… it was more. He began to walk in rhythm to the beat. His head bobbing as his body swayed beneath him as though enchanted.
The first tendrils of emotion curled its way into his chest, but it was a sensation he recognized. From Almaz…. and farther back.. from the bathhouse.
Beneath his mask, a brow furrowed deep. He thrust his hands over his ears, gathered a shit ton of the ancient power into himself, and rushed in, searching for a familiar face, fighting the noise attempting to poison his brain.
He found it quickly.
“Hello there, little buddy.” He doubted the kid would realize the danger he was in, especially given Jaxen's devilish disguise, but given his propensity for manipulation of tongues, he might recognize Jaxen's voice.
If not, too bad for him.
He stretched out his hand and the air began to shimmer. At first, it's subtle—a ripple, as if reality itself is bending around them. The furniture that the kid stood upon began to shake, glowing in tendrils of gold and yellow streaks as if it might break into a thousand pieces at any moment. They lifted around the kid's feet like serpents from the earth, weaving in and out of each other, forming intricate knots and coils. They might have clamped around those vulnerable legs, but Jaxen wasn't interested in pure binding. This was a performance! A spectacle to instill the same sense of awe and fear that he endured at the hands of his captors.
With a dramatic sweep of his arm, the tendrils exploded into hundreds of tiny, glittering illusions: butterflies, locusts, wasps and bees all made of shimmering light. They swirled around the kid, faster and faster, creating a dazzling whirlwind that made it impossible to see beyond the riot of colors and shapes. It looked like chaos, but Jaxen's power was precise. As the illusions closed in, they begin to solidify—turning into solid ropes of light, glowing brighter and tighter, binding the kid's arms and legs in an intricate, shimmering web.
Then, in one final flourish, Jaxen snapped his fingers. The web contracted sharply, lifting the kid into the air—hovering just a foot high, wrapped in gleaming, pulsating threads of raw magic where he hovered, cocooned in a display that’s part artwork, part prison.
The devil walked casually around his captive. There were few remaining witnesses, but those that stayed cowered safely away. "Don't worry--you're not hurt. Not yet. Let's see how long that holds, shall we? First, the cannibals. Second, the aliens. What will be your third trick, little buddy?"