Thread: A Promise Fulfilled {Lady Nef x Shinyka}

Death remained silent during the entirety of the strange woman's speech. There was something odd about her aura. In a sense, she reminded him very much of himself, one that boomed with power externally, but was also empty, hollowed and void by the ages past. He tilted his head slightly, trying even more to identify her. It was obvious she was powerful. He could tell that much by looking at her aura alone. In a way, she resembled himself, as did the one who looked very much like her, a twin or clone perhaps. The idea of clones and twins made him think of having a copy of himself, which he pondered the idea of while the strange women continued talking. He chuckled under his breath and cursed at the same time, at the thought of having to share his near orgasmic reaping with another, and finally mentally concluded that he was to forever be alone, for the better or for the worse. With a nod and a silent grunt, he finished listening to the odd women talk. Upon listening to her finish, he shook his head slightly, pondering what it was that she was referring to when she talked about The charges he was about to take. He thought for a second, before reaching into the endless billowing depths of his black robe that covered his lower torso. With a grunt, he pulled out a scroll from an unknown pocket and unfolded it, grimacing slightly as a few drops of blood slid off of it an onto the floor, a later testament to the macabre feel of the scroll being made of a strange, pulsing, fleshy substance. For a few minutes, he poured over it, looking for a possible identity of one he was to soon reap that would cause enough trouble for beings such as these to risk themselves to summon him, a move deemed folly by even the most powerful beings there were. A few minutes into reading his fleshy doctrine, sifting through the soon-to-die peasants and warriors, one name caught his attention. With a smile, he began to roll his scroll up, before placing it back into the billowing abyss that was his clothing, woven of a substance unknown to the mortal world. He did not a dress the women just yet, but found himself laughing, a sense of impending bliss overpowering him, consuming him. He was aware that tears now flowed freely down his face, exiting from beneath his blindfold. He regained his composure a few minutes later, unaware of how agonizing the wait for the beings inspecting him must have been. It mattered little to him, he had all the time in the world. When his laughter finally subsided, he regained his composure, and resumed facing the trio. He opened his mouth, and spoke to them for the first time since they had summoned him, this time, he voice calm and confident, only echoing with the voice of one man. His words were well strung, giving the impression of someone who thought what they said carefully, yet at the same time, there was something chaotic and unpredictable about it. It was indeed this ambivalent guise that shed truth on the paradox of what he really was, a being of both the light and the darkness, the sorrow and the joy. In exactly eight days, four hours, sixteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds, your king will die, he said, calm and composed, despite the news he was breaking. His cause of death will be massive bleeding in his lungs, a curse that still haunts him from his days as a war hero, fighting for the 'betterment' of this country, he recited, feeling himself grow slightly joyous as he progressed his description, unaware of the turmoil and sorrow he must no doubt have been subjecting his audience to. It'll be beautiful, he said, his composure beginning to unfold again, this time, giving way to his slightly more sadistic side. There's going to be blood everywhere, turmoil and chaos. I'll be sleepless for many a fortnight to follow, basking in the untold joy his sons will be bringing me, he began to laugh, telling of the many, many deaths that would follow the untimely end of the king. And yet, you wish to deny me this pleasure?, he asked, attempting to intimidate.