Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Masquerade (Closed)

He stood there and watched out over the city, the people, the lights, all of it was so unreal, so distant and yet so close. If he wanted to he could reach out and touch it, feel their skin on his own, feel the sights and smells of a place so different from home, yet he never could. Never could find a way to lift the mask that clung to his face, remove the plate armour that clung to his limbs, see through his own eyes anymore.

He so desperately wanted to, didn't he?

To refute the being he had become, to deny all that he had done, reset the clock and start again. They'd promised all of him this the second he finished his forty years. A new life, he could be free, he'd have his will back to do everything he always wanted to do. See the sights that he'd always wanted to witness. They'd remove the armour for him, they were after all the only ones that could.

You always have the choice, why don't you leave?

That was easy, he was doing it for his lover, to lift the bloodless curse that hung upon the man, slowly draining away his soul, a true empty husk inside a shell made of spikes and vines. That was why he now sat here on the roof of the castle like the spectre in the night that he really was. Waiting for new orders. Always waiting for new orders. They'd been together before and once the forty years were up they could serve together once more, experience the world together.

Executioner drew his legs up a little closer to his chest, as he felt a shiver run down the back of his spine, dancing on each vertebra as it went. It wasn't that he was cold, that feeling had died a long time ago, one of the many that had slowly vanished with the passing of time. His eyes refused any contact with the silent bulk of his partner standing not too far away, executioner did all of this for him and yet ...

The night seemed so much blacker now, so much emptier than it had done moments before. Stars which had glowed so brightly, dancing and shimmering in the sky now seemed eerily muted and dead, it all seemed fake. Unlike the tower. The ruined tower that he had burst forth from hours previously seemed the only real building in this city, he'd been there ... he'd felt the stone with his own ... powers.

The curse isn't killing him, why don't you walk away?

That form wasn't right for his love, they both wanted to be able to feel each others touch, to be able to snuggle up for warmth on a night, didn't they?

A single eye whipped around quickly to give a furtive glance at the silent bulk that already seemed so far away despite the physical distance not having changed at all. Was that really what both of them wanted?

You trained to be a soldier, you always wanted to be able to fight better than others, isn't this your wish?

He couldn't answer that question and for a being that didn't fear many things, he felt afraid. Each arm curling up tighter around the already bunched up legs, the cloud of gore drawing in tighter around his body as if the mere act could keep out all the fear and insecurities. That nagging idea that maybe he wanted this, that this path was the one he was destined to take.

But if he really did hate it that much, why didn't he quit? Refuse to take anymore lives...?

Don't you feel the thrill of victory? The satisfaction of a job well done?

It should have rained, or thundered, or done anything dramatic, but instead, the night went on doing nothing. Offering no solace or comfort to the creature curled up on the castle roof. Instead, the being simply sat there and shivered in the face of the unknowable evil it had become.

And yet you don't stop do you?

Time passed, people moved, arrived at the castle and left, yet still, the monster on the roof didn't move. The sky outside hadn't changed but the weather inside had, it had begun to rain.

No tears rolled down his armoured head or fell from the dismal eyes, they couldn't, not anymore. He'd changed too much for his body to allow that, it was all disappearing from him, but it was only physical changes, he was still the same person.

...

Wasn't he?

Aileen had gritted her teeth when Taff spoke back to her, her hand balling into a fist. But Pentre was enough to distract her for now, and she accepted the ring, sliding it onto her own hand. She flexed her fingers as he spoke, only partially paying attention, and when Taff had smiled, something in her expression snapped, and with the new ring on her fingers she backhanded the manservant across his face, her emerald eyes wild with rage.

The anger passed as quickly as it came; she cleared her throat, pulling the ring off of her finger, “It’s loose. I’ll have a chain prepared and wear it around my neck.” She spoke calmly as Crow arrived, and thought on Pentre’s words- until Crow spoke up. Her eyes snapped to Taff’s face again, and she grabbed him by his chin, inspecting his face, “Yes...besides for this horrendous outfit, he does look like that young man, who came for my boy’s birthday...”

She let go of his face, taking his left hand into her own- yep, a pinky was there, for sure. She let go of him, folding her hands behind her back, and Aileen’s eyes slid to Pentre, “Lord Knight, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m sure the news must’ve missed you...traveling as you do hinders communication. The Jester is known to be missing a pinky, on his left hand. He’s also never been seen with such dark hair..” Which, of course, sounded an awful lot like the young lady who had been playing in the tavern only a short while ago.

She turned away from Pentre, her lips pulled into a tight frown, her eyes moving to Taff. “Well, tell me your name and who you serve, boy.”

“Come now, Lord Knight Pentre,” Came Iskra’s mocking tone as she moved to stand beside Crow and Aileen, the woman offered a bow but her wicked grin was far from respectful, “Shouldn’t you have recognized Manservant of zhe belovedPrince? Despite zhat mess he’s dressed up...he sure looks like Taff.” She offered a friendly wave to Taff, “I vould recognize skinny rat anyvhere. And, Lady Aileen, I’m sure zhis boy could rattle off my various offenses if you need him prove his identity.” The statement was met with a pointed glare, and the bandit only shrugged in response.

——————

“Damn it all.”

There was Romulus, scaling up the wall to the manor, clinging to the uneven bricks and holding on for dear life. He didn’t intend to look down, nope, his eyes instead stayed focused on the opening above him, the window to a small room he had observed to be the nursery. Right now the child must’ve been playing; he could hear babbling and the laughter of his maid as she played with him, and he gripped the wall tighter and climbed up.

Just at the edge of the wall, he began to hum softly, a quiet tune. Sad, mournful; the loving nature of his last song was gone, and this one was a heavy, swaying feeling. Within a few moments, the maid slumped over where she sat, and Romulus jumped the ledge, sliding into the room.

The child was awake. He froze as he looked at the boy, the toddler watching this odd pale man who had climbed into his room; and then, the child laughed, slowly and unsteadily getting to his feet. While Romulus copied the Maid’s appearance, he glanced around the room, spotting a small piece of wood, carved beautifully with a name- “Carlisle”

“Hey there, Carlisle.” He mimicked the woman’s high pitched, slightly annoying voice; the child only laughed more, and Romulus grinned, “That maid placed a ward on you, didn’t she? What a nice woman. Come on, let’s go.”

After stealing the woman’s clothes, Romulus picked the child up in his arms, smiling and walking out of the room; with this disguise, the guards at the door hardly batted an eyelash as they watched the disguised assassin walk down the hall with the child.

————————

“It’s raining, isn’t it.”

The approach of this stranger was silent; his appearance on the rooftop without detection was concerning, but no threat would so openly expose their self...right? But there a man sat, a few feet away to give Exe some room (he was wary of attack himself), “I never liked rain myself. I’m much more fond of nights like this...rain is for cleansing. Purifying. The moon and stars tonight are far too silent for that.”

The stranger’s face was hidden by his heavy hood, but his breath came out in puffs of chilly air, and when he turned, the light of the moon caught on white, glittering scales across his obsidian cheeks. Certainly no human, his eyes were jet black and only a slit of deep turquoise signaled any kind of pupil, “But you didn’t ask my opinion, did you? No, I fear I’ve inserted myself into your night, but the Mancini estate has always been my favorite place to come, when I’m anxious.”

In her haste to escape the ballroom, Raed barely registered the unlikelihood that she'd find herself in close proximity to the Mancini's child. Before, she had seen the little tyke - always at a distance - but there were usually watchful guards keeping the mercs back with practiced scowls. Raed was certain she didn't need to question what they'd do if she ignored those silent warnings.

Yet here she was, and there was the maid and the little bundle of joy, passing one another in what Raed figured for another servants' hall.

She only looked at the two long enough to blink, offer a bemused smile to the maid, then make a silly face and wave to the child in passing. Poor kid, growing up in a place like this...

The thought went unremarked and Raed scurried back out to the gardens without a second glance.