Eye for an eye [Ceto]

[JAXON FLEETER]

Date: 2008 Nov. 19

here kitty kitty, now dont be shy

feel me in the inside of the, faintest trace of sound

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] THE DARKNESS AROUND SIZE=3]Off Track Forest : 2.46 AM

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It had been easy to follow the almost blatant blood-stamped footprints. It had been easy to spread a bloodlust over the guardsmen, inciting them to give chase regardless of their own desires for sex, food, or hunger. It had been easy to smell the fear, easy to follow the broken grass stems if the trail became questionable in the very least. In fact, it had been easy to sense the exhaustion, to extend Jaxon’s chi outwards and encourage the weariness inside his prey, the anticipation of the kill mounting. But looking upwards at the ancient pine, glittering still with recent magic where the inscription lay embedded in its bark, things had stopped being easy. Jaxon’s mind flickered like a clock, ticking to his own rhythm, but fast paced and wicked. Only shadow acted as the barrier of vision of him and his prey who’d disappeared.

In fact things went from hard, to worse, to complete disbelief, and then finally to wonderment. He had gone over the facts many, many times in his head over the past couple of hours. The bloody footprints never continued from the ground at the very base of the wizened tree. There weren't any signs that anything surrounding the tree had been touch, let alone run over. He had climbed and examined the tree limb by limb; needle by needle. Nothing. Cautiously he had spun a thread of his power, a single glimmering thread, and encircled the area, feeling the place out carefully, heartbeat by steady heartbeat. The tree had been awakened, and it was still groggy, still settling inside of itself. Even sleepy it had given off a menacing demeanour in his presence that had rivalled any being he had ever encountered. He had even paused, considering the unusual occurrence of an angry tree. He had then purposefully invaded the tree's presence, seeing if it was able for him to provoke it further. He had not been given any more clues, and the tree was still angry.

Whatever the case, the tree was the key. He had read the inscription in the language of the Elements and while it piqued his curiosity the end result was just added frustration. He had watched the guardsmen from the shadows, never letting them see him, but always directing their intentions as he had done the past few days. Out of the ten, two had fallen and would never get up again. Four sat resting, another two sleeping in sudden exhaustion. The two strongest tried to search the area, dismayed by their fatigued comrades. Trying to pass over the roots had led to intense stumbling, mild then serious cursing, and altogether a moderately entertaining show of bad grace and yet as he watched nothing on the tree had moved.

He felt himself frown, unused to such effective debauchery fooling him. It seemed that even an assassin’s patience could be tried. Regardless, the troop mostly being spent were unuseful to him now. He felt his cheeks crease into a cruel smile at the thought. Being in the middle of the wilderness meant he didn't have to be neat, not if he didn't want to. With the loss of a couple hours in caution, he felt ready to exert his tension. He didn't mind being a murderer, but being a gravedigger was damn troublesome. Not today, oh no, not today.

In the Cat's Cradle Bar : 8.11pm
A string of bloody scalps feel heavy on the table, slightly slick with some bodily residue. Jaxon’s eyes glimmered mischievously, his jaw tightening triumphantly before a rasp of air caressed his vocal cords in one long sigh.
“Done and dusted. Though I wouldn’t say that is easy. Enchanted a flippin’ tree to go Hulk on my ass.”
A thought of a green, muscular tree sent him in a wave of giggles.
“That’ll be fifty coin. Per kill. You better not waste my time babe.” The end of the sentence growled slightly, dipped in liquid harsh copper with the bite of poison. This was also companied by the stern coldness of his hellebore eyes that flashed a violent white towards the Gorgan. Even the pet snakes didn't crack his full gaze on her. This contract by the stunning creature was one of many he'd done in the last week, and collecting his award was the end of the beginning.

Jaxon’s eyes came away from this woman to the plate that was placed in front of his hungry eyes, yet somehow his mouth wasn’t watering for food. Turkey. In his mind, it tied right in with the month of November, like ham on Easter or burgers and fries on the 4th of July. Not that he really knew what it was like to have a full spread on a checker cloth covered table, apple pie steaming and everybody haggling over who got to break the wishbone. There were some vague memories like that, hazy at best, but mostly he just remembered the feeling of it.

What it was like to sit down as a family, pass around a basket of rolls and coat everything with gravy from a bowl that seemed to be an endless pit. Jaxon's idea of turkey dinner was a Freezer Queen meal, or whatever a diner happened to slap on a plate and call Holiday Special. Gravy was a thin line across the meat. There was never a wishbone. God, he hated Thanksgiving. It was still a few weeks away and even though this country didn’t really celebrate such an event, he gritted his teeth, and he could feel it creeping up like all the rest of the holiday spirit BS, and everybody was starting to get sucked in to it like some bad rehashing of The Blob, a.k.a. cranberry sauce. Okay, so cranberry sauce wasn't too bad even in the Cat's Cradle, a magical bar right in the center of New York, it's hard to screw up fruit flavoured gelatine. But watching people put on holiday spirit like a winter coat was plenty to bring out the Scrooge in him. A bloodthirsty one at that. Thanksgiving was just the warm up session for the humbugs of Christmas. He could do without all of it… unless, of course, a turkey leg was traded in for hot wings. That he could handle, especially if the wings were set down on the table by the brightly smiling owner of a 36-24-34 figure.

"Thanks, babe," he said past a grin, well established as a pro of multi-tasking conversation and appreciation of views. Most who knew him would find it hard to believe he was happier to see the wings than what was halfway hiding behind the waitress’s tank top his server was wearing, but it was true. Probably wouldn't be once the wings were gone, but still. He was damn hungry. "Keep 'em coming."
With a wink, she was off again to see to the next patron. This gave him the oppertunity to grace his vision back to the Gorgan.[/div]

#### WORDS 1165, TAG CETO , MUSE ACDC - BACK IN BLACK!

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table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

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[CETO EURYALE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://img708.imageshack.us/img708/1972/borderf.png][atrb=style, border-radius: 25px; border: 1px dashed #050505; padding: 10px; color: #a1a1a1;] ► this is the point of no return WE LOSE WITH HEARTBREAK OVERWHELMING Courtyard: 2.45AM The plan had been simple enough, the price perhaps too high, not that money was an item to the gorgon. While she spent a good portion of her days trying to blend in with the crowd, today was not considered normal by any means. Fifteen minutes until show time. She had run through the moonlit surroundings, while the assassin created the diversion. The blood of the living was not something she favored this time, after all, the mythic authorities had stolen something valuable from her, and she would have her revenge. Ceto rushed through the darkness, using the shadows of the courtyard walls to shelter her from potential on watchers, or even the sharp eyes of the night watch as she got closer to her target: Skadi's Eye. The eye she sought to retrieve. While a treasure hunter would deem the item a legend, or a myth, she knew the truth behind the artifact. It was important, and all that mattered, and it could help her to better control her gorgons stare. The deal had been to distract the guardsmen, and anyone else traveling through the nearby forest. Once the mission was accomplished they would regather at the Cat's Cradle, and reap what was sowed. On the other hand, she had intentionally left out to the young assassin she had hired as an accomplice, that she would also be nearby during his escapades. Though, the gorgon knew better than to judge a book by its cover. The assassin's mind was allegedly as sharp as his blade. This was a mission she had a chance of tackling alone, but by fates fortune, she had been tipped off by a troll peddler, who betrayed a hiding place of guards of 'intolerable' strength. Guards who were apparently bad tippers, because the disgruntled figure had dropped Ceto the name of 'Jaxon' in the first place... Along with a way to reach him. Pushing aside the happenings of the day, Ceto forced herself to focus. The damn tree was not her concern, the hired hand should be able to take care of a few inferiors. After all, he seemed quite confident in his abilities. Her eyes fixated on the petrified eye. The guards were accompanied by cloaked figures, all chanting some form of gibberish to the stone. Surely they didn't believe this eye was beneficial to whatever freak show they were putting on. A branch snapped beneath her feet as she carelessly missed her step during her advance. Oh, hell. She thought, quickly grabbing her shades and lowering them. So much for good will... “HEY YOU!” She shouted interrupting the concentration of the cloaked figures ritualistic blah-blahs. Her voice was loud enough that it echoed throughout the location. She had made a swift bolt in the direction of the cultists. She may have been considered 'evil' for that split second. The split second when her eyes met all of theirs, resulting in a statued circle around a pedestal in the center of a courtyard. Simply an eerie sight to behold. A certain satisfaction filled her as she realized the World of Warcraft nerds had been taken care of... Of course they were witches or wizards or something, they were on the mythical side, so it was as the rumors had stated. The cult was up to something, again. Last time she had even heard this cults name, it was because of the supposed return of Rasputin. She scoffed in amusement, and reached out to claim her treasure. SNAP. Quickly turning to face behind, she was not particularly enthused to come face to face with another guard. Before he had a chance to speak, she snapped his neck and kicked him onto the cold earth below him. Forcing his eyes open one last time, to petrify him with the others. How could it look like murder if a gorgon didn't exist? In the Cat's Cradle Bar : 8:00pm It was now 8pm, and Ceto had made her way to the rendezvous point, unsurprisingly the assassin wasn't there. She knew better than to double cross a money-hungry youth with a passion for killing. Instead, she ordered herself a drink and lounged back in the chair, placing her feet on the bar as she waited for his arrival. Like most men of business he didn't keep her waiting more than approximately ten minutes. “Well done.” She stated, kicking a chair out for him. “You're late. Fortunately for you I'm in a decent mood and your tardiness will not be deducted from your pay.” She teased. She rolled her eyes as the mans feasting eyes devoured the waitress serving the food. Smirking in amusement, Ceto couldn't resist the temptation to embarrass the man. ”Keep 'em coming!” “Excuse me, miss...” She stated with a wry grin. “My friend here would like to know how much you cost, seeing as he's earned a pretty penny tonight...” The gorgon snapped her fingers and gave a point, her form of a wink, to the employee. Her murdering spree of the night had come to an end, and thus it was safe to be wearing her usual sunglasses again to protect others from her harmful gaze. Chuckling as the waitress scurried off, Ceto tossed a bag of gold onto his lap, a bit more forcefully than called for. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out Skadi's Eye as evidence the contract had been fulfilled. She glanced at the man casually. “What kept you, and was the rumor about the tree legitimate?” She pondered curiously. TAGGED • Jaxon Fleeter     WORDS • 914     NOTES • Still a bit rusty. coded by lovesolfege of ote!

[JAXON FLEETER]

Date: 2008 Nov. 19

here kitty kitty, now dont be shy

feel me in the inside of the, faintest trace of sound

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] THE DARKNESS AROUND The burning sun filled the dirty, undressed window at their side and he felt hot on the side of his face and body. The day was nearing its death finally. A luster of a coy smile feathered his lips, his mouth muscles enjoying every suggestive movement. He looked back to his prey, eyes unusually sparkly for a man flickering over her like some intense scanner. An envious thought came fleeting through his mind of the wanderings of other hands to set upon this fine craftsmanship, a true goddess to any god. Even though an celestical liquid DNA swam through her every veins, the whiteness of her soul was stained, and this, was indeed a strong impulse to explore of what made this fine piece of art to become such a display. She wasn’t so much beauty on the outside, but a strength of character was as attractive to him as fluttering eyelashes. Jaxon did not stir. He was trying to gather up the scarlet threads of life, and to weave them into a pattern, to find his way through the sanguine labyrinth of passion through which he was wandering. He found himself gazing at her with a feeling of almost scientific interest. She was mythical in every aspect of the word. He could see corded curves beneath fabric, a body of a goddess he must assume given what his mind's eye could see, although his imagination did more work of wonders for her. Her face was hard, cold and mature, but her eyes and stare told a story of age...of perfection laden with experience. His mind was swarming, his chest heaving with delight. Her words were challenging in itself, the perfect maze in which to get lost. The other lady, now laced with a mixed hybrid of disgust and confusion looked at him, eyes as big as a dolls. Jaxon, in parrying with the Gorgan gave the waitress a growl, flicking his tongue slightly with the crescendo of a wink to finalise the act. The woman looked as if she didn’t know whether to smile or spit in his face, so for that she retreated behind the bar. “I‘m not the type to pay, lady. I get it when I want it.” He grabbed a small piece of meat in-between his teeth. With a wink, he shouted over to the barkeeper. “Another drink for this lady, whatever she had before.” Jaxon looked back, running his index finger lightly over his thumb. The lids of his pale green eyes threatened to close, but he with strained and simply gave her a hollow look. Visions came to him, but only did he hear the clatter of his dish, empty as a graveyard. For such an authoritative man with a voice that cause elephants to shrivel up in corners when he deepens it a few octaves, Jaxon was having difficulty finding the words to create an adequate admonishment. A twitch of his brow and he shuffled nearer, closing the distance finally between them he arched his head and gave her his signature smile. “I like to be fashionably late Mam!” He said, though his vocals hushed into a sensual whisper now. Stuck in the darkness of the night, a crisp air of wordless tranquillity wafting around the club, Jaxon stretching his spine against the back of the chair. He was good at guessing people, though she was rather difficult to dissect. There were corridors hidden in her mind, which compelled him to wonder and fall down into the rabbit hole. “Well, sorry, forgot to snap a picture of the tree going Hulk with covenant purple boxers were his genitala should be… forgot my camera. So nah, not legitimate by your understanding.” He wagged his beer that hung limply in his grip, his eyes now trailing into the distance. Drawing out his silver case, he pulled a cigarette from the mass and pressed it to his lips with a wild smack. He lit the ivory stick, the vermillion cherry igniting with ease. His lips curled at the corners, a soft smile tugging at his cheeks. He then bowed his head in acceptance as alabaster fingers slid betwixt the cigarette leisurely. His tongue slid across his lips before he pressed the cigarette to them again. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly to watch the puff of smoke linger between them. Satisfied with her mere presence, he leaned forward even more, to close the distance between their bodies. “I hope the payment is all there?" He meant it to be a whisper, the brutal chime of his voice only for her entertainment tonight. He roughly emptied the contents onto the table, and with one slender finger pulled a coin one by one to count the amount. #### WORDS 1165, TAG CETO , MUSE ACDC - BACK IN BLACK!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[CETO EURYALE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://img708.imageshack.us/img708/1972/borderf.png][atrb=style, border-radius: 25px; border: 1px dashed #050505; padding: 10px; color: #a1a1a1;] ► thunder in our hearts IF I ONLY COULD MAKE A DEAL WITH GOD The noises resonating from within the bar were to be expected, and nothing out of the ordinary. The sound of boisterous laughter came from further inside, the clinging of glasses, the scraping of dinnerware across dirty plates, and even the sound of water from the employee behind the bar cleaning the dishes absentmindedly. The elf in her presence appeared to be lost in transition, his skin illuminated in patches where the sun had kissed. His eyes wandered through the establishment briefly, perhaps to mark an observational point in his mind. The assassin reminded Ceto briefly of someone she knew once in the past, chuckling quietly to his parrying growl to the waitress. It was a small wonder that the waitresses ever so delicate hand managed not to collide with his face. Judging by the womans hasty retreat, she simply hadn't known how to handle the situation that had greeted her. Her chuckle slowly faded, her thoughts now lying with the waitress who had been greeted by unexpected creatures. Glancing up as another white wine was laid in front of her, she nimbly lifted the glass and spun the liquid into a small whirlpool careful not to spill any of the precious liquid. Another moment and the glass met her lips, the sweet, needed, elixir meeting her system. Many things could be said about Ceto, but alcoholism was not one of those things. Nodding her thanks to the gentleman on her side, she smiled when he parried once more, this time with words instead of a growl. i]”I'm not the type to pay, lady. I get it when I want it.”

[/i] Poker face failing, Ceto snickered a bit at the mans confidence. It was not that she doubted his ability to 'woo' the ladies, he had a charm that could not be denied. However, she did question this mans capabilities of keeping a loyal, immediate, circle of allies around him. She seriously had problems believing his relationship with others would ever be an honest one. It would be hard to trust your circle of friends, if one discovered the secret that their supposed friend enjoyed earning a little extra gold killing on the side.

She chuckled again, adjusting her sunglasses idly. “Please don't misunderstand.” She began, unable to hide her moment of brief amusement. “You remind me of someone I once knew...” Crossing her feet at the ankles, she took another small sip of wine. She couldn't look other people in the eyes directly, for obvious reasons, though with her sunglasses on she was able to engage in such social requirements. It would normally be considered rude to fail to look at the person talking to you, though as the man knew... It would prove to be more ill-considered to make eye contact without the proper preventions, unless he desired to take stone-cold to a new level. A full smile crossed her lips in response to the mans sudden declaration. “There is no such thing as being fashionably late, friend.” She noted politely. “However, if being late is one of your style preferences, I shall make a note to also be fashionably late should we plan to meet again” She teased. Examining the man again, she wondered what lay behind the depth of the mans green eyes. While he was undoubtedly younger than she, his eyes revealed he too had acquired some wisdom over the years. She had never been particularly gifted when it came to reading elves, for a while she had even believed they hadn't existed at all, and were truly one of mans myths. That was until, of course, she had met a half elf known as Forendir back in the early era.

Her reminiscing halted while Jaxon painted a decently detailed picture of a Hulk tree with purple boxers. She snorted in amusement, shaking her head. “Oh, good sir...” She mused in a silk like voice. “I do believe any article of purple clothing went out of style after Prince.” She wondered if the elf had been familiar with human music, enough so that her joke wouldn't be wasted. It was a risk she seemed to enjoy taking while communicating with others of her world, some would understand, others would deem her batty. It made little difference to her. “I must admit I am quite disappointed to hear that the tree didn't turn into a the hulk.. I am even more disappointed to hear that Harry Potter is a lie and the Hulk tree did not turn out to be, in fact, the whomping willow.” Another chance at a lost joke. While she did not always see eye to eye with humans some of their lore and stories still suited her entertainment needs.

The man was all ready checking the amount of his payment, with a cigarette in his mouth. “I do not believe you will be disappointed.” She answered briefly, watching the routine example of distrust of a hired hand. She wondered how many times this man had been double crossed in the past to cause such hesitance now. "I am a woman of my word.”[/size][/div]

TAGGED • Jaxon Fleeter     WORDS • 848     NOTES • Wee!
coded by lovesolfege of ote!

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[JAXON FLEETER]

here kitty kitty, now dont be shy

feel me in the inside of the, faintest trace of sound

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] THE DARKNESS AROUND “As we’re going to film reference chickadee, I sense a copycat of the Joker?” This was followed by a manic voice and the signature smile that was obviously was the Joker’s. “I am a man of my word...” He mimicked, trailing a harsh laugh to replace any silence that might threaten his moment. For all the years he was in the inhabitants of humans, he did indulge in the Medias that slapped your face every time you walked down a street, particularly, the drink coke. God damn, he was addicted to the stuff and its teeth decaying goodness. The scent the wild oleander was pleasantly intoxicating through his garments, a scent to remind him of the forest, providing him with an exquisite natural high, and the eyes that locked strangely to his, sent little electric shivers down his spine. This woman was immensely strange, but the thought of her in his company was more than a curious matter, and being the dog to a bone, Jaxon bit. Sure, sometimes he was allowed to actually like and relate to someone. Now being in the clutches of a mysterious stranger, Jaxon’s muscles relaxed in the coldness that came from the air around them. He was a being of cultivation and high tastes indeed, regardless of his messy pastimes, and as he perused the immaculate interior of this woman’s sanctuary, her mind, he noted this was no exception. A set of glasses caught the twinkle of his eyes, the glory of their stillness soothing to the rush of his own life. “I remind you of someone? I bet his name was Prince Charming, no? Which reminds me, I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing your name. I usually don’t waste time with such intimate and petty details, but tonight Mam, you’ve gained my full attention.” His drink meet lips once again, the cigarette balancing gracefully between two fingers; the clear translucent glass of his drink reflecting images of the woman in front and he drew back, titling his head to the side. For centuries, it's been said that one can see, and even trap, souls within mirrors. Starting with the ancient forms, giving an eerie light to tricks used by the Egyptians. Time progressed, and technology advanced, leading to the process of photography. Because the image was like looking into a mirror from a specific time, tales were told that they sucked up a portion of your soul, and trapped it within that time forever; never to progress spiritually. Luckily, that's nothing but a superstition set branched off from the truth. These days, mirrors are even advancing to the polished metals from the past. Even water holds the power within, to show your true self. The key isn't simply seeing the reflection, however. It's to gaze into those eyes, reaching past the barrier of the physical plane, and to a deeper truth of self. The normal response to such a common form of what some may call soul divination, is for the viewer to feel like they're either viewing a stranger, or reject the sight given, and convince their conscious that what they see is nothing more than a mere reflection. Of which, is no surprise, as humans don't like to feel at unease, accustomed to being in control and knowing most things. Especially about themselves, despite the endless labyrinth of mysteries, pitiful shit fucks they were in Jaxon’s forbidden eyes. Hopefully any masks of this Gorgan would slip off as easily as the numerous dresses he’s unzipped. He was well known for his strategic plans and successful killings and the ability to use his ever growing charm and wit to overcome the innocent, lure in the vermin of the mundane world, plant bad seeds in the minds of sane beings. Almost everyone involved in the 'business' wanted him, like a pet in the palm of their hands. It was just a game to him though. A game he always won. He finally came out of a trance, his limbs jerky with movement and the coins disappeared into a pouch which then vanished into his own pocket. In surprise, all payment was there. Either she was “true to her word” or frankly didn’t want to meet the end of the jagged his blade. She may promise friendship of sorts, but Jaxon was a primal man, animalistic in many ways of his character and being at the top of the food chain was important, therefore his money was his survival. Granted she was acceptable in trust terms. So the sliver of doubt that had breed in his subconscious slowly melting into relaxation. A gesture of pleasure came over him for a fleeting second, the beer now warming the cold pit that laid eggs in his stomach. “I’ll admit, the... human race isn’t quite to my tastes, though their entertainment is fascinating.” A wriggle of his brow complimented his statement, while a suggestive gaze towards the woman at bar showed a seductive nature to his words. “Books.” He said suddenly, gulping in air. “Love them. Back in Bethmora I used to read a lot. You may think me dumb to blindly kill for money, but darling my mind cogs aren’t un-oiled! I find them... intriguing. Yet whilst navigating the white spaces between the black imprints, whilst translating the ink marks into images, you stumble across a you, you have forgotten.  Perhaps a you, you have abandoned.  Perhaps an ideal you.  Perhaps a monstrous you. You come across yourself in this thicket of prose unexpectedly, as if by magic.  The author is like a stage magician; he pulls back the flimsy curtain and gleefully crys “Ta-daa”, and reveals the truth.  Or is it the illusion that is revealed?  You experience that indescribable moment of fear and entrancement, hypnotized by the thing that looks like you, but isn’t – but can’t be.  It’s like staring into a looking glass for the first time; bewildering and impossible.” A slow smile came over him, a rare natural one that was of content and not other means. He lost himself for a moment, and hovered his gaze to the background of humans drinking and smoking. Suddenly, he regained himself out of his concept, dismissing how much books influenced his character when growing up, the novels his guardian Gareth let him dwell in when the madness around him was going on. When a child, he feel into a refuge of losing himself in the paper dreams. “So, the eye there. Relish me in the wonders it may bring. What is it?” He said, quickly changing the subject. He felt slightly off guard wondering down that street in his head. . #### WORDS 1105, TAG CETO , MUSE ACDC - BACK IN BLACK!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0