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Post by Narrator on May 25, 2013 10:40:07 GMT -6
The Great Hall of Portraits - where stand portraits of every demon who once reigned in Hell. Or had some impact in the doings of Hell. Or were just lovers of those who were important. Some paintings appear to be missing, the walls discolored from where they once stood. The plaques beneath them are nigh-unreadable from age.
Two nobles walk the halls...
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Post by Fovea on May 26, 2013 11:43:16 GMT -6
“Beautiful aren’t they.” Fovea smiles pleasantly at his companion, floating down the hall as he springs on the tips of naked toes. The duo passes a scowling image of some ancient and forgotten devil king with the jowls of a hound, and the spritely demon laughs. “Well maybe not all of them.” Fovea concedes; his voice like champagne and crystal. “But I’m sure even Ratchet-face had somebody whom thought him beautiful.” The pale devil alights on the balls of his feet to the soft singing of the rings and bells which bound him. Sapphire hair falls like a diaphanous waterfall across his face as he turns a horned head toward the towering canvas. “Or else why bother with the portrait? Why choose this form above all others…”
He glides cheerfully in front the devilcat, the large sleeves of his tattered round frock fluttering like wings “An idea above all other ideas. Do not the poets capture beauty’s name thus?”
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Post by Ciel on Jun 4, 2013 16:57:06 GMT -6
"Perhaps he thought himself beautiful, and that is why he threatened death if the portrait was not done. One never knows the full extent of a story until it is told." Ciel was beginning to wonder why she agreed to this walk. The shoes were hurting her feet, they always did. Her corset was especially tight today, something about having to look thinner for her walk. Whatever that means... Her hair was in an intricate updo, and it was beginning to make her head throb. She never looked forward to her 'playdates' with other gentry... She was beginning to wish that the Regent had never made her a lady. She had cursed saying yes to that proposition for a long while... Oh the things I do for love...I wonder what my Ere is doing right now...
She caught herself thinking as she walked, and remembered that she had to play the game. She had to seem interested, else some slight was imagined for her. She turned her full gaze back to Fovea and continued walking with him. "Would you ever put a portrait of yourself in a hall like this? Even just for vanity's sake? Knowing that some day, it may fall or be ripped apart and broken... Knowing that some day, two beings such as ourselves would scamper among the broken pieces of your fallen beauty and titter to each other about why?"
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Post by Fovea on Jun 4, 2013 21:25:25 GMT -6
“I might do,” Fovea grunts as he inexplicably bends over and lifts the callused claws of his feet into the air. He puts one shaky hand forward, then the other, his mess of cerulean hair sweeping the ground as he stumbles forward. “But they say old King Paimon was more interested in philosophy and the sciences then what others thought of him.” The devil gives Ciel’s constrained feet a nod as if addressing her face, a faint blush of rose colouring his pale cheeks as his blood ran to his head. “I just might titter- whoa… the old King knew well how foolish a portrait would look, but had it commissioned anyway. Why then?”
Fovea tumbles to the floor, his old smock whipping the stone with a thwack as the demon lands on his back, bells ringing softly. “Pardon,” he winces “Ahem- I speculate it was duty.” Fovea informs the ceiling. “Because it was his duty to have a portrait, Paimon had one.” He looks back at the devilcat lady and smiles apologetically, wiggling his toes. “Our duty can sometimes make us look foolish, wouldn’t you agree my Lady?”
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Post by Ciel on Jun 7, 2013 19:51:09 GMT -6
She blushed heavily, trying to flex her feet to give them some comfort, as the thought of kicking the shoes off grew more and more appealing. "Perhaps it can. But we must do our duty, mustn't we." She had stopped when her companion had started walking on his hands-- a feat she had seen in the Old Market where she used to live, many a time-- and part of her missed home, however briefly. She grew frustrated and found an old plinth to sit on and plopped as carefully (and extraordinarily gracefully) down onto it and twiddled her feet, shoes now dangling off of her toes.
"But every now and again, one must abandon propriety for the sake of what sanity one has that remains." She reached up and pulled enough hairpins out of her hair to let half of it down, the curls washing down her back. She kicked off the shoes, not caring where they landed. She thought briefly about ripping off the corset, but decided against it. The sooner she got back to her rooms, the better. But this Fovea was an interesting enough fellow. Her blush left and a smile lit on her lips. "Ah. Much better. I will be scolded heavily for that. But, for right now, duty can hang on a high tree. Shall we rest a minute and talk? you can do more acrobatics if you like... I used to be a performer of sorts myself. It brings back old smiles for me."
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Post by Fovea on Jun 8, 2013 5:36:40 GMT -6
“You don’t say?” Fovea smiles beatifically, rolling backward while swinging his legs towards his head and kicking himself back up onto one foot. Once, twice, three times the alabaster demon whips his body round like a windmill, only one claw ever touching the floor at any time. He tumbles flawlessly into a standing position, brass ornaments jingling in applause. Heart racing, Fovea pouts his lips out and deflates like a balloon.
Looking calmly up at Ceil he sighs “The Courts are a circus in my opinion.” He shrugs nonchalantly, one azure eyebrow raised. “My Lady might as well be a performer still. Ah-” Fovea sicks his arms high into the air and shakes his shaggy head back and forth, pointed ears drooping. “B-but of course, my Lady is far more vicious and elegant then what is common,” he stutters apologetically “An absolute paragon among even the nobility.”
He grimaces, showing just a hint of teeth “I find it hard to imagine you being scolded for being comfortable. After all… a lady does as she pleases.” The snowy devil coughs, turning away perhaps to hide any colour which may have found its way to his face. “Well that’s what I’ve been lead to believe anyway.”
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Post by Ciel on Jun 9, 2013 11:59:01 GMT -6
She smiled and clapped as the acrobatics continued. She nodded and returned his sigh. "The Courts are a circus. But a particularly deadly one, if you're not careful about which attractions you comment on. I have no use for most of the gentry, and I try to either stay to myself, or only appear where I'm told to. I have more free time than I know what to do with... And most of that, I spend looking out of the window in my rooms, wishing that I were still starving, dirty and half crazed. It's a vicious cycle, that. The poor think they want to be rich and clean and the rich and clean just want to be dirty and have less appearances to keep up."
She slid off of her seat, the skirt tearing ever so slightly. She padded across the floor and did a few random dance steps. She wanted to move. To dance. She didn't care anymore about the clothes, they would be replaced. She ripped the cincher corset off and tossed it across the room. Now that she didn't feel so restricted, she turned back to Fovea and sauntered in his direction. She cupped his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. " The reason I'm more vicious and elegant than they are is because I know what true viciousness is. I know what true hunger means. I know what it's like not to know if you'll be alive tomorrow. I know the elegance of a barroom brawl that allows you to steal a drink or two of some barmaid so that you don't kill everyone in the place. All of these things I learned before I was taken in my the Queen. And I keep them in my repertoire, just in case I need to showcase just how vicious and elegant I can be. But for some, those like you, I don't have to flash that knowledge around. For those like you, I can simply be myself."
She caressed his cheek one more time, and dropped her hand. "The gentry do not want me to do as I please. It would kill all of their little games and make them all look the fool. I've taken an oath to the Regent, so I keep his rules as best I can... After all, I am supposed to be a Lady." She laughed. "Besides. If you don't tell, I won't."
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Post by Fovea on Jun 10, 2013 3:24:54 GMT -6
The demon leans into her caresses, his pallid flesh tingling softly as if a current of electricity pulsed just beneath his skin. “There is nothing to tell,” Fovea beams serenely, one thorn like claw absently adjusting the collar of his weathered smock.
He catches her dropped hand easily, firmly, and takes a comfortable step backward drawing the hellcat succubus into a slow dance twirl with one fluid and seamless motion. The frozen faces of the looming portraits spin around the two of them, a silent and impassive audience. He grins cheerfully, effortlessly drifting through a complex latticework of steps. But suddenly stops, releasing Ceil, as if the flow of the dance were a river that had unexplainably changed its direction.
“It pleases me to learn that you’ve a fondness for the more practical things. In particular the advantages of a humble upbringing,” there is a carefully measured amount of concern in his voice. “No doubt you are an expert in where most the nobility would be, um…” he looks for the right word and seemingly fails. Fovea sighs, shaking his head and finishes simply “…Would be most ignorant.”
He smiles at Ceil again, conceivably in an attempt at eliminating his own worry. “But I must confess my curiosity. If you were not sworn to uphold our Lord Regent’s… notions of the ideal Lady. What exactly would you change? Aside, of course-” he laughs delightedly, eyeing the discarded corset. “From the dress code.”
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Post by Ciel on Jun 10, 2013 14:40:59 GMT -6
She smiled a bit more through the dance steps. "Most of the gentry are ignorant. They learn to lie before they learn to speak. Not for any practical reason, but to keep themselves from being trampled by someone more important than they are. They never have to feel the intense pain that true hunger brings. They never have to physically fight to keep themselves afloat. They have everything and learn skills that only work in theory. They never have to practice them. That's why beings like myself get so bored with them. They know everything, and yet nothing. All at once."
She tilted her head when he posed his last question and barely paused before answering. "First and foremost, I would change my proximity to the gentry. If that was not possible, then I would change the need for all back biting and cloak and dagger silliness. Demons like The Count De Verrin are only important because they've killed off anyone that would say or know otherwise. Power should be granted, not taken. I would also be free to love whomever I choose and do it openly..." She paused a bit longer here and slipped back into an easy smile. One that would do its best to hide the pain she felt. "Would you change more than the dress code?"
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Post by Fovea on Jun 11, 2013 0:30:18 GMT -6
“Hmm….” Fovea rubs the back of his neck and turns to look thoughtfully at the pictures on the wall, weighing Ciel’s words. He turns back to her shrugging his shoulders, a playful glint in his eye.
“Nope! I’d just get rid of the shoes,” he chuckles, doing a little skip in the air and clapping his hands.
When the devil lands however he seems distant, as one who would reflect upon their own words even as they spoke them. “That being said… I’m reminded of what my mother once said to me; An empire enforces its rule in one of two ways; it can either control its subjects and states directly via force… or indirectly control them with the promise of power. Whether it’s granted or taken, power is of course, only the perception that the empire can actually enforce its rule. It’s a beautiful idea and nothing more.”
He puts his hands into either side, each claw bobbing up and down as if part of an invisible juggling act. “Now, on one hand we have outright tyranny and on the other… the back biting, the cloak, the dagger and the lies. The power. Hell is ruled by the royal, the educated and the wealthy. The nobility. It can either sneak about in the shadows or hold a sword at all our throats. As the empire stands…” Fovea’s claws come together, palms facing each other. “…It really has little choice but to be what it is. Otherwise the structure of power would collapse.” The devil bows his head sadly before looking back up at her and tapping the side of his head to the soft rattle of copper.
“Ironic don’t you think? You could be the Queen of Darkness herself, with all the power in Hell, but unable to change anything.” He spins around, opening and closing a fist to iterate his point. “Squeeze the Court too tightly and they fight you, hold them too loosely and they defect. I fear the desire for change might invite a forcible overthrow of the social order for an entirely new system.”
He rocks casually back on the heels of his feet, his words not seeming to lecture or inform. Fovea’s tone of voice was instead musical, as if he had grown tired of speaking and so began to sing. “One without the political games. One where you would be free to love whomever you chose. It’s frightening how such an idea might lead us astray. I do not envy the Regent in his battle against such a powerful and implacable enemy.”
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Post by Ciel on Jun 26, 2013 22:57:54 GMT -6
She listened to his points and nodded. She could see his reasoning was sound. She did have her doubts. "I can say that you are correct in your logic. But at the same time, even the new regime would fall back into the same dysfunction once someone found a profit in the peace and love industry."
She looked around, found that she really didn't care if they were being watched, and did a cartwheel. Her skirts flipped a little close to her legs, revealing their length and flexibility until she landed on her feet. She smoothed her underdress down and laughed, a husky sound that was better than watching smoke roll off of a pond at night. "That was fun. Perhaps until that flawed utopia is built, we can just have our fun breaking what rules we can, hm?"
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Post by Fovea on Jul 7, 2013 5:33:54 GMT -6
Fovea rocks easily back on his heels and at Ceil's laugh remembers to casually allow his gaze to linger. Only the faintest dream of mischief marring his immaculate face. “Of course my lady.” He spins around and is halfway striding down the Hall before stopping suddenly in his tracks to spring back toward her.
“Ah,” he exclaims absently as if just now remembering, gesturing with a slender clawed hand Ceil's corset. “Might I suggest trying on the styles of the Blasted Desert. Silks and veil's, that kind of thing. Easy to move in. You can hide or reveal much of yourself and still look like royalty.” Fovea winks, and begins to stride once again down the Hall, but just as abruptly turns around again- lightly tapping his forehead in frustration. But smiles, flashing teeth. “Oh, and hypothetically, who's rules would we be breaking?”
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Post by Ciel on Jul 13, 2013 18:22:00 GMT -6
She chuckled. "Anyone's. At this point, I'm not particular. Truthfully, if you can continue to keep my secrets... I would love to dress in that fashion. It sounds delightfully airy and light." She pirouetted, and tapped her toes. She shuffled her feet some and her skirts fanned as she twirled. She stopped twirling abruptly, her skirts twisting around her legs before they untwisted and fell still.
"Fovea, how long shall we stay on this walk? I'm enjoying myself, but I don't want to keep you from some important...job. Or whatever games you are involved in. I do not wish to derail any plans you may have."
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Post by Fovea on Jul 25, 2013 13:53:57 GMT -6
Fovea lights the hall with the infectious chime of his laughter. Even draped in threadbare clothing, amidst all the extravagance of the palace and the all too lifelike paintings of long dead demons, the ghostly devil appears completely at ease. Rolling his thin shoulders nonchalantly, he smiles kindly, as brazenly as the logic defying geometries of the palace. “I'm afraid it's a little too late for that.”
A claw, tapered into a fine point, skims absently across his cheek tracing, perhaps too perfectly, the silhouette of Ceil's touch. “What is the price of a slave?” he grins, a teasing glint in his starry eyes. “No, don't answer, but listen. Currently indentured saves are cheap, well for the nobility anyway. But soon the expense of owning one will rise to reflect the threat of immanent war. That price will climb the stairs to Heaven if the Knightmares were to protest against the unjust enslavement of old king Kieran's children. Even controlling for inflation the price of slavery will rise uncontrollably in the coming years with, and let's not beat around the bush, civil war around the corner. For the last decade I've been playing the fool. Buying slaves above market price for entertainment, parties and what have you.” the devil twirls his hand around boorishly.
Fovea sighs as if the words falling from his mouth leave a bad taste. “However none of the slaves I have purchased are Knightmares. Basically my mother,” the devil rolls his eyes “Says should a new policy with the Knightmare kingdom raise the price of the market in anyway, should I set a price for my collection, slave mongers would find it cheaper to purchase merchandise form me then it would be to capture, raise and train slaves of their own.” There is an uncharacteristically melancholy tone to Fovea's singsong voice.
“Yeah... yeah, I'd much rather help the lady out of her corset,” that smile again, “and wash my hand's of the entire thing. There, you have a secret from me now also...ahem-” he coughs. “Well it's not exactly a secret, you just have to know what to look for.” Again the pale demon tugs absently at his collar. “But as for breaking the rules... If I were to court your affections, no one could blame ownership of my stock being handed over to you. After all...” Fovea puts his hands together a flutters his eyelashes in exaggerated earnestness.
“I'm smitten.”
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