Terms of Endearment

June 30, 2015:

Sometimes you do awedul thing to (for) the ones you love.

North Brother Island

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

It is near midnight when Daimon's cellphone starts beeping. Parker is walking on the air, a few yards over the East River, so the sounds of water moving can be heard close by. "Hello. Hellstrom? Am I talking with Daimon Hellstrom? Yes. Listen… it is about your sister and a woman called Reese." He gives Daimon a few seconds, then adds, "come to North Brother Island, I got a tip they are getting there soon. And another you would need to know this."

The call is answered with quiet words, a simple acknowledgement of identity. He listens closely, but slowly puts the phone away afterwards. Rushing is no matter to him - he can summon portals as easily as another might brush their hair. He's been simmering for some time - he knew Reese had been taken and he could smell Satana's hand in it, sense her presence over the whole affair. This was mere confirmation of what he already suspected.

He feels it within him, the anger, the rage, the hate. The things he suppresses so often, the part of him born of his Father's seed, the curse that lays upon his spirit. And, this time, he surrenders to it.

In the grips of his Darksoul, Daimon Hellstrom arrives at the described destination. His eyes glow with darkness, shadow that casts like light, and his brand flames at the center of his chest. He radiates raw, unburnished evil, the purity of it making the air around him tremble. Plants near him would wilt, milk curdle, babes wail for their mothers and priests gibber in the grip of sinful nightmare. Daimon Hellstrom walks often in the world, but it's rare that the Son of Satan does in all his glory. Today is an exception, it would seem.

When that portal between opens with Satana and Reese, the heat that exudes from it is one that withers plantlife in its wake, a volcanic exhale, but to them it seems mild, something of a tropical breeze on a beach since their presences were within and between the veils.

Cloven hooves come after, the white hocks of fur descending around the shining obyx of goatlike appendages, forged of heat and shining in that sleek glory, the tail behind her snapping in a whip like motion from its extension and protrusion, parting the veils of vitae huen hair. Shadows from the overgrowth around her seem to race in and liquify, sealing in every dangerous contour known to the serpentine, leaving the spanse over the curvature of hip and the valley of sides open as well as the clefts and valleys along abdomen, upward and outward in the deep V to coat over the heave of bosom and wrap over the contours of shoulders just to descend the same down hair laden back where wings also span outward and fold in, a light brush along Reese's back, just down her spine.

A withering smile is upon well fed facade, but one that slowly begins to fade when her brother is /felt/ as a presence here. Nope, finders keepers, she is not sharing her new abode that had enough dead here to direct her itself! Not enough space on this island. "~Company.~" But instead of a sirens call of vocals to Reese it is sing-song and almost playful despite the severity.

It was hot, where ever she was. Sometimes the heat was too much for her sensitive skin and often times spent her mornings, afternoons, nights.. where ever wrapped within the comfort and 'safety' of a wing. Sometimes, she explored whenever she could, but the sting was too much. Even the portal exit weighed heavily upon her soul, her eyes a'glow of red, her chin lowered as the tattered cloth remained wrapped around her body, dragging upon the ground with soiled, (dirty) feet that press against the earth. She shudders in a breath, her hair actually combed for once, the mock hospital scrubs she wore lazily clung to her body with the need to actually eat before she petrifies.

"Company?" Reese murmurs airly, the blind woman glancing towards the sky, her eyes pulsing that dark red hue as she lets out a soft breath. "I would love someone to talk to." It seemed as if she weren't all there, their 'training' sessions leaving her in a state of unkept euphoria.

"I want to talk about the stars.." She giggles towards Satana, her head leaning against a bosom in a slight cradle, her gaze almost vacant, troubled. "I miss them so.." A soft, mournful sigh slips from her lips.. "Watashi wa sorera no ma ni arimashita na."

Parker reaches the sore and keeps walking a few yards over the ground, on plain sight for those able to see in the dark. His great cloak flaps and billows even in the absence of wind. It is a hot summer night and he has the impression the temperature just jumped up a few degrees just as Daimon and the ladies make their dramatic appearance with a few seconds of each other.

Timing is eerily perfect, and he almost feels this is a setup. Not his setup. He has no talent for the dramatic. Not this much.

"You must be Daimon," he states, walking down to the ground close to the burning man. "I am Hood. Someone was eager to pay me a small fortune to pass you a tip. It got me curious to say the least."

Daimon Hellstrom flicks out his hand and manifests his Hellfire Trident, the neferanium in it forged in hell itself, a weapon stolen from the hand of Satan. Hellfire ripples along the length of it as he turns his head, a pair of horns manifesting on his forehead as he takes in the hooded youth, "There are cliches about curiosity and death. I won't bore you to repeat them," he says simply.

He strides forward, sensing the arrival of his sister and her charge, "SATANA!!!!!!!!!" he calls, sending a gout of hellish flame into the sky, "You have something that belongs to me."

"I do not think we have the time for that." Though now those words lost their sing-song tone. No matter how much the glutton has fed and indulged she knows when times of amusement are up, although a few times here and there she may slip, Achilles Heels and all.

When Daimon seeks to storm close one claw tipped hand extends forward, a line drawn in the air and in the earth between them, that single index used to rise and blow upon the tip, a light line of fire ripping across the path she makes with the quick and artful flick of her wrist to draw it forth. But not fully lit, not yet.

Reptilian slitted pupils of brimstone stare out now as something deeper in Satana seeks to watch this show, curling inside of her like a monoloithic dragon in anticipation of shedding old scales, the shiver even coursing down her own spine, ripping a smile across dark lips that flashes quartet of curved canines.

"Dearest brother, why whoever do you mean? /Yours?/. Now I recall you telling me not to harm her… But I do not recall smelling piss upon her legs…"

Hood now gets a flash of that gaze, a single brow rising the more she slides gaze from toe to head, though nostrils flare. "Did you bring a bargaining chip?" Finger steeple just before lips upturned into a feral grin, though her lower lip is pulled in to chew upon. She looks like a woman who just spotted the most desired Prada heels.

"No time.. I have all of the time in the world.." She was cold. So cold. She needed more of the life to feed her own, to breathe out into the ethers and let it fly. Once was not enough. Twice still was not. And three? She needed more. The sound of Daimon and Hood both draws her chin to lift, her gaze still towards the sky as she lowers her head again. "Who belongs to who?" She murmurs softly, a question gone out to the three of them.

Yet, with the line drawn in the sand, she couldn't do much but stand where the part had took place, her foot stepped forward as she crumples to the ground upon her side, a hesitant breath taken. "Sore wa, daimon, anata wa arimasu ka? Anata ni aitakatta. I wish you were there.."

Her hand lifts to slightly rub against her cheek, fingers scratching against the back of her neck as she rolls upon her side to lay upon the ground. "I'm so hungry.."

Parker smirks at Daimon warning. Please, he grew up in New York. He can survive anything. Even Satana's inhuman appearance does not seem to faze the hooded young man. Her silted gaze and expression, though, give him momentary pause. But he is confident in the mystical protections of the cloak and his ability to vanish almost instantly. "I am the Hood," he greets the women. "This little family drama is quite intriguing, but I suppose it is also a private affair. Do not let me interrupt, please," he raises a hand as if in an apologetic gesture, and vanishes from sight.

Daimon Hellstrom pays no mind to the Hood. It's true, this is a family affair, insofar as he's concerned, and he's particularly tired of this dispute. Whatever Satana's relationship has been with their father, with him, it's one thing to be snarky, dismissive, or simply unpleasant in a variety of ways. It is another to directly interfere with him, to take something or someone in whom he has established a stake.

"I don't care about your games, Satana. Your coy horseshit doesn't buy you any points with me." he says. He plants the butt of the trident into the ground, a flare of power spreading around him as he forms a pentagram of protection, his dominion within it providing a shield against Satana's power should she choose to lash out. "What do you want?"

Just as Hood phases out that index finger that had crept its way past her lips *pops* out and a kiss is blown from it, dangerously hovering puckered lips above the spire. "So I guess you did not bring a trade. Good. Because it would not work."

The smile that was once upon lips in a playful set of mirth fades to a placid apparition upon shadows that dance and whirl, much like the long tentacled whisps of hair that refute ever touching scorched Earth. Cloven hooved stance takes just over Reese, straddling her form as the attire slicked like oil over her svelte figure moans out its resistance to the pressure of skin beneath. But where shadows peel away and attire does not cover that unhealed scarring still /bleeds/, etchings of a powerful marque dug into skin with crude means and even crueler intent.

One hand strokes over Reese's curled and tucked form, but the reflection of Daimon's appearance is in her eyes, her own Hellpyre bursting up around them from the lines where only small fledgelings had darted like an ethereal light show. "I already have what I /want/. -Yours-, needs to eat. Real food, not what I have spent nights indulging with her upon."

A hand lifts to lightly rub along her face as she draws out a yawn. Her mind was locked in that euphoric state so whatever words and bodies that disappeared around her fell to null. She sniffs a little, glancing up towards Satana, a slight smile draws upon her lips as she breaks out into a giggle.. yet the heat that surrounds her draws her arms to her bare skin, the tattered cloth drawn to cling over her like a blanket as moving.. it was the lesser of two evils.

"You're leaving me.." Reese whines, her eyes immediately closing as the light within dies down, her soul slowly crushing by the minute as she buries her face upon the dirt below. "I don't want you guys to see me cry.."

Daimon Hellstrom had been prepared to lash out, to just give into the urges of his Darksoul and wage war with his sister. His Father would laugh at it, he knows, for he'd fed their sibling rivalry since they were children. Part of that is why Daimon's never fully succumbed to hatred, because he suspects his father would find it satisfying. He'd allowed his Darksoul sway over him, here, and he feels the urge to flay, to bleed, to ruin, to murder.

But then he sees that marque. That's no sigil of Shaitan, no signature of their father's. That's new. "No one is leaving, Reese. And food can be simply enough arranged," he says. There's a flicker there in the darkness as he meets his sister's eyes, his pentagram keeping its protection up around him, "A new decoration, sister? I knew you were into body modification…" he says, reaching his sorcerous senses out to try and get a measure of that marque.

"Oh.." Lips purse and her head tilts in her pose over Reese. The way her body moves, neck craning, raptoresque as she focuses upon the woman and draws fingertips back upward along her body to the hair that rests over the nape of her neck, plunging between to grip her around that extension and right her. Though the whole thing may look forced and brutal Satan feels, /waits/ for Reese to get up on her own and put feet to ground. If she does not she -will- hoist her by her neck and marionette her to stand between herself and her brother.

Mother-crooned, words passed and Satana's profile rests just beside Reese's, peering over her shoulder with a sly grin. "Beloved. You have shown me much beyond what I thought possible when I took you. You have no idea how eternally /close/ we are no matter the presence."

Silence though, and that grin fades from cheshire to malevolence when he mentions the Veve. "I have had it even when we last met, dear brother. I found a man who adores me so, that he has carved it within me eternally. Much like I have done with /yours/ but not so visible." Was there a hint there? Something.

The hand that had descended to press upon Reese's back now gives her a light -shove- forth towards Damian. "Feed her before everything around her suffers for it." Hints, innuendos, Satana is one to not give direct answers, but looks and words… She and her kith are a philosophers nightmare, but when Reese has distance between there is something in her gaze as brimstone refraction fades.

"No ones leaving me?" She murmurs quietly within the dirt, her body soon coiled around the leg that straddles her so. It wasn't protective, but there was a certain need there, built up and hidden away, unused to such attentions. A soft grasp of her neck has her slowly moving, her hands planted against the ground as if she were a child, her eyes vacant and silent, body near stiff, the conversation slowing around her as that push sends her skittering in her step towards Daimon.

"She has a man.." Reese dumbly says, the smile that plasters upon her face fades, her head lowering.. her fingers slightly petrified, nearly curling stiff. "I'm hungry.." She repeats, almost tiredly..
Daimon Hellstrom approaches slowly, cautiously. He allows the trident to dissipate.e Trying to read between the lines of Satana's words had always been challenging and perhaps even more so now. A man, eh? Daimon might not know who it was or what power he possessed, but he knew Satana. Knew her well enough to know she'd let no man make a mark upon her, claim her as property. Not even Father and certainly not some random power. No, there was something amiss here. He focused on the marque, taking in its dimensions, committing it to memory for his occult research.

"Allow me to feed her, then, sister. In time, perhaps, we can…revisit the issues at hand here. But whatever's happening, however you wish to phrase it, I do make claim upon Reese. And I cannot allow you to leave with her," he says simply.

The wrap and cling of Reese is endearing, but there are some things you simply want to discard, like a kitten over the edge of a bridge. Holding by the scruff and turning away so you don't watch before you let go…. Your heart sinks with its plummet, and then you look back to find the damnable beastie all claws and a new bracelet. All good plans go to waste with felines anyways.

Then there is Reese. Same difference, but even as she walks away looking kicked Satana adjusts her stance to a taller effigy, that statued pose almost altering her by 5 inches, the curling lash of agitation coming from her tail to entwine within the dance of tresses that descend from corpses fair. Wings span, the leathery surface flexing to catch wind, sound like sails pitched and then folds down her back to disappear beneath the deep sea predatorial sway. Spiraled horns curved against skull offer the same dark glean of fire honed as hooves that now scrape over rock.

A proud and claiming stance, one that is offset by that morking of ingrained and powerful blood magic, imbued with death. Fitting for the basilisk grin and alligator slit eyes that watch as Reese meets her brother.

"Of all the games Father has had us play, the least I know is ones of the heart. Brother. I won't start now."

Panther-green flicker of predatorial gaze between them in that darkness when she turns away, the laugh accented by the whip-crack of tail cutting air. "What the lepers have left me is a fortune upon their bones and solace. There is no food here for her. Just me." And with that, Satana was gone, the streaking path of Exiter in pursuit darting from one brush to the other.

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