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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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 Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2017 2:22 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 13, 2018 4:10 pm
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••• St. × Vier  St. Vier came to in what he recognized as his rooms before he had opened his eyes. It was the smell: a mixture of hospital sterile, incense, and baked goods. Only his rooms had that particular mixture of smells.
The sheets underneath him were rough, the mattress lumpy and worn: no one was making luxuries, not in the quantity it would take to make buying them worthwhile. Some of the Masters had nice beds, he was sure: with all the sink, bounce, and thread count there had been available hundreds of years ago. But it had never been a priority of his to acquire something better. Having a mattress at all was itself an enormous luxury, and that was enough. It was, as with many of his trappings, more about what the objects meant--about him, about Haven, about his life—than about his interactions with them.
There was a lump pressing against a nerve in his neck; his head pounded with dehydration, in reaction to the short fall against the threadbare carpet in the Nave. His bodily complaints were many.
He largely ignored them, reaching a hand out blindly, ready when a large, fleshy platter settled underneath his reaching grasp, giving him leverage to push himself upright, grip changing to help him out of bed entirely.
His vision swam, and a similarly large hand steadied him by grasping his hip, letting go immediately when he had found his footing.
Without a word, he looked to the Kir for confirmation of success in capturing Lokeah, smiling slightly when the creature confirmed, bowing its head.
Peering into the silver platter that served as his mirror, St. Vier tsk-ed at a mild bruise on the side of his face, running a long index finger along cracked and dehydrated lips. As he did, the Kir behind him rummaged in a box, producing clean clothing: less priest robes, these were utilitarian garments, a cheaply made tunic shirt and worn canvas pants, both in a dingy charcoal that might once have been black. He swept thick hair off of his neck and face, tying it severely back and away into a messy bun and shoving his feet into thick boots. These were better made, obviously meant to last, and meant for labor far beyond the typical priest. The Kir knelt to tie these, even as St. Vier plucked a pair of surgical gloves from one of several stations set up around the room, this one right beside his mirror.
He had more Below, a stockpile of the things in multiple sizes and colors, but it felt right to carry them out and down, heading to general holding. The Kir straightened, hesitating before gently reaching out toward his face, obviously meaning to run a sausage-like finger over the light bruise, and St. Vier slapped the hand away.
”Leave it” he ordered, the words sharp but the tone of his voice affectionate. New acquisitions tended to lead to a better mood, as was the case now.
[Second part of post in General Holding]] |
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2018 6:26 pm
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·.·•✧•·.·•✧• •✧•·.·•✧•·.·The love is lost
Beauty and light
Have vanished from garden of delight •÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•The fur of the fox was softer than he remembered the creatures being as he had held them once before but he didn't think much of it, chalking it up to the creature not being an actual fox. However at Lokeah's words he chuckled lightly, a strange sound coming from him. "Jealous of you? Not really, I've seen his chambers a few times myself. I was merely referring to the fact that most newer members of the Haven aren't allowed in this area so you are lucky compared to them," Anselm stated his usually monotone voice now with a hint of amusement. It was clear that there was probably more to him than meets the eye but he wasn't going to reveal it to someone who didn't know him. In all honesty not even Vier knew everything about Anselm because Anselm himself didn't know either, his memory was foggy at best and completely gone at worse. It had been that way for some time and he had come to accept that, all he knew was that he had a strong connection with the darkness and the void. It was others who had given him the title of the angel of death since where he appeared death was sure to follow but that was all there was to it. He kept these thoughts to himself though and soon they arrived at St. Vier's chambers.
Once they had reached the chambers of the saint Anselm sat Lokeah down in one of the chairs and leaned against the wall next to the doorway. He then looked at Lokeah and finally spoke up after being silent for most of the walk to St.Vier's chamber, "This is St.Vier's chambers, try not to ruin anything. As for why you're here I'm not sure why but clearly you are important to St. Vier but don't think this means you're gonna get away with more than the others. This is still St. Vier's domain so watch your actions if you don't want to end up loosing the trust he's put in you," Anselm said, his tone not as monotone as before, almost as if he was warning Lokeah. He then fell silent once more and turned his attention to the door.•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•The dreams are gone
Midnight has come
The darkness is our new kingdom Find me if you wish: St Vier's ChambersLet's move on: LokeahNothing fancy: outfit in picturesSuccumb to the sounds: nothing at the moment
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2018 11:35 am
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«Lokeah»
Captured||Trickster God||Wanna Play?
________________________________________
____________________________________
The laugh from this pretty boy was less than comforting and it felt odd compared the the other males tone. "Hella more lucky than that other guy." Lokeah mumbled in response, and he cringed at the thought. His discomfort was less of where the other male was taken, but more so in the pain that was given to him. The god wasn't about to forget the fate the was said to come to him eventually... he was just as curious as to if he'd be locked away after that as well. Gosh how he didn't want that... he'd grasp this little bit of freedom for as long as he could.
He remain silent after that, just as the other male had, and instead he let his mind flood with the possibilities of his future. His eyes would glance at any and all little cracks in the walls, searching for a means of possible escape.
Then they finally arrived. The room was much more strange than he would have expect and it didn't at all resemble the church it sat in, minus the confessional booths. Though somehow this felt fitting for the man.
Lokeah curled his tail around his paws when he was placed on the chair, and instinctively he backed up until finding the backing of it. His heart was pounding, and with every strange object that he took in it would only grow worse. He was scared. Why would there be body parts? Where did they come from and what happened to their owners? Those thoughts were terrifying to the little fox, and his ears returned to their terrified position against his head.
"So uh... are you a slave to Vier? Does he treat you well?" The little fox asked, peering up at the other and using this moment to try and gain some information. Perhaps something that would make his life here more bearable.But then a moment later, his attention shift away in a nervous nature to ask something of him.
"And if it's not too much to ask, could you uhm... pet my head? Maybe?" He mumbled to the only other living being in the room. He was unsure what he would do with that. Would he use it to try to shift and escape? Or perhaps that was still too risky at the moment. If anything... he found that gesture calming.
____________________________________
________________________________________
Who are you?: St.Vier, Zara, Pretty guy
Where: General Holding
Mood: Nervous, uncertain
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2018 4:14 pm
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••• St. × Vier On his way back up to his quarters, St. Vier paused at the base of the Below, running his hands into a stone basin that had, perhaps, once been used for holy water, and that had been repurposed for this purpose. He made a habit of cleaning himself on his way up to Haven whenever he could. It was good general practice; often he didn’t know much about the medical history of those he interacted with, and he was often in contact with any number of bodily fluids. He made a point to cup a handful of clean water, swishing it along his cheeks and spitting off to the side.
This done, he crossed himself, a gesture that would likely have been ironic coming from another figure but was deathly serious coming from him. He took a last splash of water to the center of his face, raking damp hair back from his head from where it had escaped the tail at the back of his head.
Thick, utilitarian boots stomped on the stairs as he let himself up, across Haven, toward his room, not stopping to lock Haven either. Technically, Haven was open to anyone, at all times, and the presence of sensors at the doors that chimed both in his rooms and in his most frequently populated training room allowed him to know when any strangers might be straying into Haven’s fold no matter the hour.
After taking a brief detour through Haven’s main room, St. Vier arrived finally at his own rooms. He entered the single, long door to what had once been an apsidal chapel, pausing on some instinct and moving more carefully to find--Anselm petting the fox, running one long-fingered hand along the white fur of the other’s head. For a brief moment, St. Vier was loathe to interrupt, curious about the artificial intimacy the moment had created and learning from it, drawing his own conclusions about the possibilities it suggested.
If Anselm had been a different kind of personality--prone to lechery, perhaps, or even simply less devoted--his response might have been more violent. But as it was, he simply waited a moment more before sweeping in, not necessarily bothering to hide that he’d waited.
”Stay” he invited them, even as he brushed past, already shedding the heavy boots, leaning against one wall, the constantly-closed door to one of the ‘confession booths’, to do so. The boots, and the socks underneath, were easy to remove, and St. Vier left them where they lay, moving through the room to a small standing wire figure that held up several pieces of clothing. Most of them were diaphonous nightgowns, in white or dove grey, and St. Vier chose the simplest of them, a thin, entirely white and insubstantial thing.
Apparently without modesty, he both stepped out of the charcoal gray worker pants he’d been wearing and shrugged out of the similarly colored shirt in a couple short movements, shrugging into the nightgown with similarly few movements.
Smoothing the fabric down his sides, he approached the two, who he’d left to finish their interaction, one hand reaching up to pull his hair free, tossing the bit of leather he’d used to tie it to the side.
Shrouded in the thin nightgown’s fabric, he sat gently on the edge of his malformed bed, holding a hand out.
”Come” he instructed, the antecedent unclear.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2018 12:17 am
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2018 7:49 am
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«Lokeah»
Captured||Trickster God||Wanna Play?
________________________________________
____________________________________
“It matters a lot to me actually.” He said softly. “For that exact reason. If I’m gonna be stuck here, I’d rather it be more comfortable than that other guy has it right now…” And by that he meant the blue haired male. He didn’t know what kind of room he was placed in, but he couldn’t imagine it was anywhere nice. An assumption of course.
He was surprised at that his request would be so easily granted by the other male, and the second a hand ran along his soft fur his face nuzzled into it. An instinctive action of a creature that craved this sort of interaction. For this... Lokeah had a sense of false trust in the white haired male and would enjoy this while it last.
His mind drift, and he felt his body regaining the energy it had lost to the point where the foz would look visibly healthier. Though he jumped at the sound of clunky boots upon the ground. His heart sank again and his eyes met that of his captor. The moment wasn't enjoyable anymore to say the least, and could you blame the boy for worrying what the man might be thinking?
He stopped showing his enjoyment of the hand that stroked his head and with observing eyes, watched as the other male moved across the room to undress and redress. This didn't phase the god. He'd lived long enough and with enough cultures before the Great Storm that he was no stranger to sudden nudity, some offered to him. He paid little mind to what he saw, but as Vier let down his otherwise tied off hair, he couldn't help but wonder. In another situation would he have found this somewhat attractive? Perhaps.
The request towards the two caught Lokeah off guard as he pushed aside those thoughts. It was unclear as to which, or perhaps both, were being addressed at this moment. The little white fox tilt his head at first in a questioning manner before he'd ultimately look up at the white haired male beside him and leap off the chair. It was best to at least show he'd obey even if St. Vier had no intention of him doing so.
He approach now, almost hesitantly as if he had already done something wrong. At the very least, he didn't feel as though he was in danger of having one of those things jammed into his neck.
There was the possibility that he could strain his body now, to shift, and try to escape. Though something told him that doing so in front of this man could potentially become ugly quick. LIke it had when he was drugged early in the day. He'd wait...
____________________________________
________________________________________
Who are you?: St.Vier, Zara, Pretty guy
Where: General Holding
Mood: Nervous, uncertain
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2018 12:03 pm
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••• St. × Vier St. Vier shook his head lightly at Anselm’s question, smiling placidly.
”No, Anselm. You are to be my protector for the night. This is an unbroken slave, a shapeshifter. You must ensure he doesn’t harm me.” As he spoke, his gaze turned to the white fox; hesitant, small, St. Vier noted how adorable the other looked. The thought was businesslike in nature, a recognition of a selling point, something of value that a master might desire. A slave who could do labor, who could be a pet, become creatures that no one in Ozymandias had likely seen, that St. Vier had certainly never seen, on command perhaps? Such a creature would surely be in high demand.
The thought of his future profits, if indeed he decided to train Lokeah for an outside master rather than himself, softened St. Vier further toward Lokeah in the moment. He lowered the hand that had been beckoning Lokeah forward, allowing him to set his own pace. And why not? Was there any particular hurry? In another mood, St. Vier might have been infuriated by the slow approach, spat and thrown things or jerked off the bed to claim the slave himself. Thinking forward to the training process, however--to testing the limits of Lokeah’s ability to change--kept him mild.
Instead of rage, he offered his other hand to Anselm, clearly expecting him to climb into the bed with him. This, like nearly everything about him, was an impulse. While it made good sense to have someone to protect him from Lokeah, if necessary, this was generally what the Kirs were for. Perhaps he had been comforted by Anselm’s presence in the Below, and simply wanted to drink in more of the angel’s calm presence. It had been a stressful day, between having to kill his merchandise when his customer had failed to pay, a training mishap that might lead to a month of lost training time while the slave recovered, Honey’s long absence; even these two acquisitions were stressful, though their promise helped to alleviate some of his frustration with the waste, the lost time.
But then, perhaps there was no real meaning as to why. Anselm was his, so why not demand his presence when he wanted?
St. Vier never stayed in bed for a full night’s sleep, and only intended what others might have called a nap--two hours, roughly. He would take another similarly sized rest later, but there was too much to do; sleep deprivation was too effective a method of control, especially for new acquisitions. Still, the ritual of changing out of his workclothes, the priest’s collar, treating his body as if he was going to rest for a long time, made it easier for St. Vier to transition into rest--and so that was what he did every time.
”Let us pray, yes? We have much to be thankful for today.”
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2018 8:20 pm
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Posted: Wed May 09, 2018 9:34 am
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«Lokeah»
Captured||Trickster God||Wanna Play?
________________________________________
____________________________________
There was a lot that went through his mind in the moment that St.Vier spoke to his servant. First, it made him uncomfortable to be considered something that needed protection from. He wasn't a harsh god. Second, the words unbroken and slave struck him with the unfortunate reality of his situation. It was bad enough that he was now nothing but a slave to the man, but what did it mean to be broken? What would happen to him to accomplish this? That scared him. Third, was again the thought of harming the other male. Lokeah was a gentle person, for the most part, and even like this he didn't have an intention of harming him. Not if he could escape without it.
The relationship between the two who shared the room with him at this moment did make him curious. Why was Anselm so obedient? Was is a precautionary measure like him... or was he perhaps "broken"?
Nevertheless, the little fox had little choice right now to obey. The risk of the pretty male or one of those strange creatures stropping him from anything rash was too high, still. So, he continued and approached the bed. Leaping onto it like a cat or small dog would, though perhaps without the excitement. Instead his expression was fairly neutral to hide his fears and internal conflict.
At least until prayer was mentioned. Lokeah had known St.Vier's connection to a god, and even his own claim to being one of sorts, but the boy had no intention of being one of prayer. His pride wouldn't allow that.
"I don't pray." He said defiantly as his paws shift in the blanket showing his discomfort. "People pray to me, not the other way around. There ain't nothing to be thankful for today." He wasn't going to flat out say he was a god, not yet at least, but he also wasn't going to act like some petty follower.
He was showing no sign of malicious intent, but more simple distaste for what was being asked of him, but that didn't change the fact that he was speaking against his new master. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a poor decision after seeing how the other male act down where the cells were. What does was done though... he'd have to accept that no matter what it may or may not trigger.
____________________________________
________________________________________
Who are you?: St.Vier, Pretty guy
Where: Apostolic Vestibule
Mood: Defiant, uncertain, prideful
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Fri May 11, 2018 1:32 pm
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••• St. × Vier St. Vier settled Anselm’s hand more securely into his, gripping it lightly with his thumb covering Anselm’s own. His expression was peaceful, calm as everything went his way, already drifting toward prayer and one of many kinds of appropriate states of mind that went along with prayer.
Who St. Vier prayed for varied on any given day, as did his preferred method of prayer.
Sometimes he was ecstatic, frenetic in movement, liable to sudden, dangerous interaction, but just as likely to become wildly affectionate, hands thrown out.
Sometimes he was bachannalian, intoxicated (either actually or simply within his own mind) and bestial, rolling those around him under him, kissing and biting their faces, eyes unfocused.
Sometimes he was grim and cruel, hurting himself and those around him, full of litanies about the disgusting waste that was flesh.
And sometimes, like this time, he was calm and internal, an edge of the paternal to his gentle direction. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rise of his chin, shoulders square even though he half-lay in his bed.
St. Vier’s grip tightened on Anselm’s hand, tendons clear as they shifted under his skin, signifying his intent right before he struck out with the other hand, grabbing whatever part of Lokeah was closest, seeking to pin him down on the bed, forearm down across the fox’s body to make it harder to scratch him. Lokeah was small like this, with soft fur and delicate ears and a long, fluffy tail. If St. Vier had been in a mood to provide commentary, he might have admonished Lokeah, stating that it was foolish to deny St. Vier anything without even a body of comparable size. What did the fox really hope to gain?
He didn’t comment. Instead, face unchanging, that paternal set slightly more prominent, as if Lokeah were a disobeying child, St. Vier murmured,
”Don’t be like that, Lokeah; we’ve met, haven’t we? Say it with me now—Anselm, Lokeah. ‘Master of my soul.’”
It was unclear if he’d registered Lokeah saying people prayed ‘to him’ at the exact moment.
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Posted: Thu May 17, 2018 2:44 pm
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·.·•✧•·.·•✧•  •✧•·.·•✧•·.·The love is lost
Beauty and light
Have vanished from garden of delight •÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•Anselm relaxed further when his mind drifted to an even calmer state, one of comfort perhaps, he could never really be sure. His mind was always swimming with thoughts and questions he never voiced, things he didn't understand. He thought of his purpose and the powers he possessed but only briefly as his mind slowly began to silence. It was a blessing when this happened, the joy of not having to think if only for a short time was one Anselm cherished because he knew that once this moment would end his mind would be swimming with unanswered questions once again. However this time his peace was shorter than normal as Lokeah's words greeted his ears and he opened his eyes to look at him. There was a very quick flash of fear in the usually calm eyes when St. Vier's grip on his hand tightened but it soon vanished when the saint's temper remained the same. Anselm then watched curiously as St. Vier pinned the little fox down and spoke to Lokeah as if the other was a disobeying child, a tone not unfamiliar to Anselm. However he also found the reaction odd, sure he had seen St.Vier act this way plenty of times but he had expected anger with what Lokeah had said, not this. Perhaps there was more about his master that Anselm had still yet to fully understand, but then again Anselm still didn't fully understand himself either. At that thought a sense of sadness over came him but he kept silent, only uttering the words that St. Vier requested of them, his voice remaining calm and never showing his true feelings.•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•÷±‡±±‡±÷•The dreams are gone
Midnight has come
The darkness is our new kingdom Find me if you wish: St Vier's ChambersLet's move on: Lokeah and St. VierNothing fancy: outfit in picturesSuccumb to the sounds: nothing at the moment
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Posted: Fri May 18, 2018 7:47 am
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«Lokeah»
Captured||Trickster God||Wanna Play?
________________________________________
____________________________________
He hadn’t been looking in the direction of the man who demand his prayer, the man who assumed he was some sort of god. He hadn’t expect the hand that grabbed for flesh or the arm that forced him down into the bed. Lokeah gave in to the force, not without a brief resistance, and a soft uncomfortable squeak escaped him. You’d think the boy would have expect this sort of reaction from a man that had so quickly shift in mood down in the below. He didn’t think about that though.
His paws didn’t budge, they couldn’t really now, but his body struggled and pushed back wishing to be released. “Meeting you was a mistake.”
Those were his last words to the other male before he shift again, a reaction to the personal hate of feeling trapped. His body began to shift oddly under St.Vier’s forearm, but only for a moment before his form seemed to grow. A long, low, growl rumbled through his throat and the bed strained at a sudden addition of weight that formed upon in. Pure white fur, carefully patterned with dark brown stripes, replaced the tiny white fox and leaped from the surface of the bed.
The creature that replaced Lokeah’s small state was a tiger. It wasn’t his intention, his intentions were something small and quick if he could shift at all. Something that could run away, escape. Though… being a more powerful creature had its benefits… at least he thought.
He knew much better than Vier that this shift was taxing on his current state. The brief affectionate gesture he’d coaxed from Anselm was only barely enough. Even as an animal, he looked exhausted and breathed heavy from the feat. For the time being, this was more of a statement that he disliked the treatment rather than a means of escape… having turned into such a large creature, he knew he hadn’t the energy to bolt or escape one of those dark creatures or to even shift again as a means to squeeze through a hole or open a door. For this reason, he didn't leave the room and instead held his ground with a low snarl.
____________________________________
________________________________________
Who are you?: St.Vier, Pretty guy
Where: Apostolic Vestibule
Mood: Defiant, prideful, exhausted
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Posted: Fri May 25, 2018 2:54 pm
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••• St. × Vier Anselm was a balm against one arm, the coolness of the angel’s flesh a reminder and a comfort that St. Vier was who he was, that he didn’t need to stand for this.
It was an unnecessary reminder, but appreciated nonetheless; a balancing weight against his back as he shifted over, fingers digging in when Lokeah shifted under him, feeling the muscles grow—tight, expanding bands that resisted his grip, thick skin and flesh and fur that yielded beneath his grip. Light trails of blood leaked from every finger, where he’d dug in against the change, seeking to maintain his grip, but this was far from the most interesting part of Lokeah’s transformation.
Responding to the threat, the disavowal and statement that Lokeah would have been better without him, St. Vier slid his thumb against Anselm’s—a gesture of affection and warning in one—and pulled away, laying the length of his body over the belly and between the long, punishing claws that were Lokeah’s current form. He pulled his fingers—the small portion of them that had remained dug into Lokeah through his change—out, a thrill going through him as the flesh tried to adhere, as he felt the wet underneath his nails.
He trusted Anselm at his back—a solid, lovely presence, indoctrinated over years and used to his eccentricities—to interfere if his boldness came up against a more dangerous body and was in active danger. The growl was impressive, a deep, touchable sound that made its point.
St. Vier didn’t care to contradict the statement that Lokeah’s life would have been better without him, but he did still intend to follow through on the prayer. He would see Lokeah either follow through and say the words, or fall to unconscious, yielding and slack.
”Oh Lokeah, what are you doing? Do you really think there’s a future where you don’t say what I want you to? Do you want Anselm to hurt you? Do you want me to hurt you?” His tone was eminently reasonable, though there was a backnote of—something. A lack of entire control, or something to that effect.
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Tue May 29, 2018 9:49 pm
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