Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2022
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 920
NOTES PM me for any questions.
Time: 16:30... Temperature: -8°C... Current weather: Light snow showers... Such conditions would prove detrimental to Pascal's objectives, yet he remained unperturbed despite the rush of freezing air streaming against him. The accumulated snow literally blanketed the paved concrete of Lorsette's Northern District. Needless to say, it appeared as though but a scant few were willing to confront the onset of an early winter like Pascal did. There he was, sauntering through the icy and snow-covered pavements whilst his languid blue eyes remained thoroughly engaged in inspecting, or quite possibly, scanning something on the ground. A rather sizable and burdensome looking backpack adorned the tall man's back, a bag that appeared hefty enough amass a complete outdoor camping set yet this was far from his most prominent gear. In his right hand was a shoddy-looking contraption, ostensibly resembling a metal detector in its design with a PDA affixed near the handle. The apparatus was riveted with cables of varying colors and size running from the PDA-like device down to what appeared to be the device's search coil.
Pascal casually disregarded the bewildered gazes of the few passersby. He was after all, accustomed to the derisive glares of much larger crowds. The smell of cigarette smoke permeated through the nearby radius of the big man's face as he deftly inhaled and discharged a steady stream of smoke from his mouth all while the stick of cigarette remained affixed to his lips. He merely pointed and waved his odd-looking gizmo over the ground as it emitted a robotic beeping noise much to the consternation of a few nearby spectators who warily steered clear of Pascal's general direction. This irregular operation persisted for about several more minutes until Pascal ultimately halted in his tracks, heeding the low-battery signal displayed by the PDA of near the handle. Pascal could only sigh and scratch his head in the end, causing flakes of snow previously camouflaged in his white hair to gradually descend downwards.
Only now did Pascal earnestly paid attention to his surroundings as he was apparently too preoccupied in his "exploration" to even glimpse at the buildings, people and steamy stream of snow all over the district. For a few seconds, an impassive yet befuddled expression adorned his angular face for reasons unknown shortly before he lightly touched his ear and nodded. Before he knew it, the once familiar district had transformed drastically in relatively few years. The layout of the roads and structures remained unchanged yet the wide-screen LCD monitors affixed to the lamp posts, the specialized vending machines and these many cafes sprawling about were some of the things he was unacquainted with. He merely stood there in the midst of the snow flurry, nodding and raising his hand at irregular intervals in the most offbeat manner. Thankfully though, scarcely any perceptible passersby and vehicles were present to pay heed to his anomalous behavior, save for a couple of brave souls casually rushing past him.
Pascal redirected his gaze onto the ground to which he feasted his deadpan eyes onto the snow piling atop the disc-shaped coil of his crudely-made contraption and his leather boots, now slightly buried underneath the cold sheet of white. He then shook his device clean and proceeded to manually disassemble it whilst sighing heavily. The light showers will supposedly persist overnight should weather forecast prove accurate. As Pascal finally managed to fold and compress the cold metallic rod to a compact size, he finally lifted his feet and deliberately plowed through the blanket of snow as he resumed his lackadaisical stroll. This time however, the strange man took the liberty of examining the new advancements of the scholarly district. On a side note, Pascal now began to doubt his previous notion of having just visited this portion of the city a few years ago... he could have sworn that was the case....
To his credit though, the unprecedented growth of this otherwise accursed settlement was certainly amusing to say the least. For some obscure reason, the influx of immigration to this cold Canadian island but a few degrees south of the subarctic latitude had been steadily increasing since the turn of the 20th century. The buildings had evidently been renovated as well, even from a distance, he could well discern the grand arches of a structure standing where the once humble Lorsette Public Library was situated. Suddenly, he felt compelled to poke the skin of his expressionless face to which he once again nodded for some reason. Lingering outdoors in subzero condition would prove hazardous to his temperature regulation especially considering his particular race. Nonetheless, he maintained his leisurely pace throughout, surveying the near surroundings for an open public establishment unfortunate enough to be subject to Pascal's mere presence.
However, the absence of nicotine smoke percolating through his rotten lungs vexed Pascal just as much as his freezing body. He then extracted the cigarette butt from his lips and unceremoniously disposed of it after which he foraged his deep pockets while his other hand remained encumbered by the now compacted yet still heavy contraption. Realizing the inconvenience of igniting a cigarette stick with one hand, he instead resolved to rid his hand of the bulky device first. Pascal halted his tracks in the middle of the road, and nonchalantly proceeded to drop the large, burdensome bag from his back prior to opening it. The few onlookers left to witness his unorthodox behavior mostly disregarded him for now, the icy roads were accordingly devoid of any vehicles after all.
It's a surprisingly cold weather outside, something Kaylie is always used to, especially when she remains inside the library's walls. Many had always expected this to be most annoying, having always been cold every hour, but Kaylie appreciates the snow. Winter is fast approaching, and Fate always makes sure that people would have nothing to do about it. Some people would keep complaining about snow, or the cold weather; and then once summer comes, it the sunny weather's turn to be cursed. People's minds get complicated at times, Kaylie thinks. But she does not care about people's opinions for now.
[break][break]It was a good time to be walking around.
[break][break]"I'm going out," She announces before leaving the library; even as Zoraya yells at her with a question as to where she is going, she doesn't pay it mind, a small smirk on her face as she starts walking away. Her best friend would get over it, and leave her be. That's always Zoraya to her. At first almost seeming to worry for her welfare, but once Kaylie is out without a word she just leaves her alone. Which Kaylie finds really convenient for her.
[break][break]The streets around Lorsette are covered in snow, not so much but enough to leave foot marks once she takes a few steps. It's no disturbance to her walk, really. She would walk any terrain, go any path, without complaining much about it. Cursing about the terrain that one is traversing would prove pointless, very useless. It won't change anything at all. It's simply going to be the same terrain, whether you talk ill about it over and over again.
[break][break]She doesn't expect so many people to actually be out on a cold time like this; she thought they would just be in their homes, watching TV with family or doing chores, but she guessed she was wrong about that once again. The young woman breathes deep and exhales after, icy smoke coming from her mouth and indicating the materialized oxygen she had just breathed out. Something from the corner of her eye makes her stop, though, and she turns her head, expression still nonchalant.
[break][break]Of all the things that a man would do, why start arranging the things in their backpack in the middle of the street? It's a strange sight, not only to Kaylie, but she figured to the other passersby too who took the time to spare the strange man a look. There's nothing much she could see but his silver hair, which she thought was covered in the brighter colored snow. Luckily there weren't any cars passing by, so he's technically safe, but...
[break][break]No one bothered to ask him what he was doing, or tell him to step aside. Kaylie sighs, knowing what she is about to do would be a big pain. But then again, it's only to help the others' sanity from looking at the man with the strange habit.
[break][break]She slowly approaches him in the middle of the street, poking him on the shoulder and still looking at him with a blank expression, though worry was creased somewhere in there too.
[break][break]"Excuse me, sir, would you mind arranging your things somewhere else? You're being looked at by strangers here... they're gonna find you strange if you keep doing that."
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Aaah, late reply and I'm so sorry for this! But here it is!
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 734
NOTES It's okay to be confused lol, just message me if there's something you wish to know.
Pascal languidly unfastened the plastic buckles and velcro straps of his rucksack shortly before unzipping its top portion, such bags were quite meticulous regarding user security after all. The snowy-haired man remained abnormally relaxed despite the supposed predicament he had brought upon himself. Nevertheless, he found it highly improbable for vehicles to be drifting about in such icy roads especially considering the copious amounts of rainwater that dampened the streets this morning. Today's weather is certainly a fickle one so to speak. Then again knowing Pascal, he would have remained in position despite presence of speeding cars regardless. Whilst in the process cramming the bulky contraption into his already laden bag, he discerned the presence and voice of a concerned young female nearby, which he seemingly disregarded on purpose.
Cold fingers unhurriedly sealed his bag prior to digging for the pockets by its side compartment and drawing a rather polished looking zippo lighter. Clearly Pascal had no intention of directing his attention towards the girl, let alone heed her words despite her poking him. The man lingered in his crouching position, knees in direct contact with the ice-covered asphalt as he wedged stick of cigarette between his lips. He then snapped open the zippo lighter and speedily swiped his thumb through its flint wheel. Much to his displeasure, a few instances of repeatedly striking the wheel and jolting around was necessary before the near-defective lighter finally ignited. After the lighting of the cigarette, the struggle to heave the cumbersome rucksack to his shoulders followed.
With a faint grunt, Pascal rose to his feet and took a moment to survey his surroundings. On the snow-covered traffic lights mounted atop a pole, the flashing of yellow soon ceased and made way for the bright green glow that signalled vehicles to proceed. Still disinterested to the presence of the girl considerate enough to approach him showcased his palpable disinclination to interact with anyone else. Upon his first step, the large mist-filled window meters before him generated the obscured reflection of both him and the young woman. As obfuscated as the images were, it ostensibly conveyed the girl's pigtailed hair as possessing the same shade of light-grey as his. Pascal suddenly paused for a brief moment and in a most eerie manner, finally diverted his gaze towards the girl. His imposing height compelled him to position his head at a downward angle prior to examining her, his face retaining its characteristically deadpan expression all throughout.
He then detracted his gaze from her before breaking his temperamental silence in a rather offbeat fashion to say the least. "Light Cyan to Alice Blue..." The eccentric man uttered impassively, his attention seemingly occupied by a yet unforeseen element beyond the horizon. Pascal suddenly took three oddly broad steps away from the girl whose hair bore somewhat similar attributes to the colors he had so curiously stated. He positioned himself but inches away from the pavement, still within the confines of the road yet outside the theoretical border from where vehicles were supposed to traverse. Pascal stood there silently, his eerily lifeless countenance ever still as a speeding van appeared within their line of sight. The man merely stared at it as before long, it rushed past just a couple meters away from him. How very imprudent indeed, the driver appeared to be neglectful to the repercussion of driving at such speeds in icy roads.
Pascal then sighed, the snowing did not seem to be fading out any time soon and he had been deprived the chance to scavenge for the material he required which for some odd reason, is hidden away in this particularly urban district. Needless to say, he was bored. Ten seconds of awkward silence later, Pascal exhaled a voluminous gush of smoke from his lips shortly before slowly pulling his wallet out from his coat pocket. He held it aloft and shortly afterwards, a one dollar coin dropped onto a thin pile of snow. Pascal attempted to bend down only for his bulky bag to prevent him from doing so. Nevertheless, the coin had already fulfilled its purpose as Pascal successfully recognized the side in which it was facing... heads... Pascal then redirected his attention back to the girl. "Guten Tag, I am the one they refer to as... Monsieur Tarento, прия́тно познако́миться..." Pascal declared in his deadpan voice, unnecessarily making use of three languages to do so.
It gets colder and colder every second and snow is still falling from the sky. Cars may start travelling the streets any minute now. However, it seems the man doesn't want to listen, and instead continues what he is doing. Kaylie watches just a few inches from him, blinking and tilting her head to try and take a peak. Whatever was so important in that bag that he had to arrange it in the middle of the street, of all places? It is a question she wants to ask, but then again, he was merely a stranger, someone she hardly even knows. And she's being... ignored. Which was the hardest part here, as she didn't like having to be ignored.
[break][break]She watches him light a cigarette after a few attempts with his lighter, before finally, he stands up. This does not compel him to even spare just a single glance, however, instead turning his head around. This is... kind of an insult, but she refuses to show such just yet. But then again, being ignored is just simply hard to accept. It's understandable if they are not in any dire situation at all (like say, a man fumbling with his bag in the middle of the street) and he chooses to ignore her, since they don't even know each other. But ignoring someone who actually manages to have the time to warn him about the streets? Simply preposterous.
[break][break]...Then again, it's just her philosophy speaking. Her face still refuses to show the hiding irritation to him.
[break][break]A few minutes and he finally manages to turn his head to her (creepily, if Kaylie could add), with the young woman staring back at him devoid of any emotion as he is. Deep inside, though, she felt ignored and irritated, but then again, she lets her face and words talk in social situations like this. Zoraya and Tobi are probably the only ones who've known her more cheerful (and rather fake) side; to strangers, she would always act this way. Examples of such interaction is with the taller man staring down at her like she was a child.
[break][break]She is about to speak when he turns an opposite direction again, and for one second her eyebrows finally twitch visibly in irritation. What... is with this guy...?! she almost wants to exclaim, and she wants him to hear. But what has been done is done. She hears him mumble a few shades of blue, before taking a few steps away from her, which she finds quite questionable. Why now of all times is he walking away from the middle of the street now? Such actions are already quite questionable, indeed. But knowing this man... she does not want to talk about it further.
[break][break]...It's only until she turns to the opposite direction does she finally realize why.
[break][break]With a panicked face, she instantly runs to the sidewalk, just next to the man, just before the speeding van passes by noisily with horns blaring. Everyone is having the same reaction, some almost run over by the said van which seems to be in a hurry. Riding at such speeds can already be illegal, if the driver knew about such law. There was no time to think, however; she breathes, in and out, trying to calm herself down from what just happened.
[break][break]Kaylie realizes that the man is still there, and she turns her head to him, only to be greeted by his attempt of bending down. A few seconds of silence between them, until finally, he turns to her again and starts speaking. But the language he is using is not something she understands; once he is done she is left blinking questionably up at him, an eyebrow slowly quirking up as only three words escape her mouth.
[break][break]"...Excuse me, what?"
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Aaah, late reply and I'm so sorry for this! But here it is!
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 713
NOTESThis isn't even my latest of replies PM me for any questions.
One thing to note, Tarento was a deftly fabricated pseudonym in reference to an old friend of Pascal's. That was merely one of among a multitude of other aliases the white-haired man could employ for such occasions. Throughout the entirety of the day, Dr. Pascal Laurent shall henceforth be known as Mr. Tarento to unsuspecting strangers. The pigtailed girl was panting next to him, having barely evaded an untimely death as a stone-faced Pascal trailed the rushing vehicle with his professedly weary eyes. Pascal subsequently took into consideration the proximity of the young female, she was certainly still alive and conscious to say the least. It is indeed quite a coincidence that the somewhat unanticipated spectacle of a hit-and-run nearly being committed has stimulated Pascal's penchant for recreational activities. Such was the resident eccentric's agenda upon clandestinely dropping a coin in order to determine today's diversion in a rather erratic fashion. Naturally, the centerpiece shall be the hapless young lady bold enough to approach him.
Pascal's offhand introduction has assuredly confounded the girl as expected, a typical response so far. The young individual before him was not as literate in the liberal arts as her outward demeanor conveyed, such was Pascal's analysis from her reaction. That is of course, excluding the possibility of her merely being baffled by magnitude of the man's idiosyncratic behavior. He then abruptly responded to her inquiry by diverting his attention towards the trudged ice and snow from where the van has fleeted past, in a rather brusque fashion so to speak. In the meanwhile, Pascal deeply inhaled a substantial portion of the cigarette's nicotine and indulged in the strangely sedating sensation of it permeating in his literally decaying lungs. A voluminous gush of smoke steadily streamed from Pascal's nose afterwards, effectively reducing the length of his cigarette by at least 25%.
Pascal then outstretched his right arm before him his whilst closely scrutinizing the tracks and footprints etched onto the wintry asphalt of the road. Still in the process of the supposed inspection, Pascal finally followed through, this time in a noticeably folksy manner "Tarento's the name..." He then retracted his arms prior to facing back at her. "In accordance to the velocity of the vehicle in question and der Fräulein's displacement from the moving body prior the hasty circumvention... I hereby advice thee to be on the qui vive with regards to such precarious settings..." Pascal blandly stated, utilizing avoidably technical and foreign terms. A brief interlude followed, with Pascal lethargically staring at the snowy sky whilst further discharging a steady surge of smoke from his nostrils and lazily clearing off more snow camouflaged by his similarly snow-white hair.
It would appear as though a simplification of speech to layman's term was necessary... as was almost always the case. Pascal once again faced the girl some seconds after the rather verbose statement from earlier. "That was... too close... careful next time eh pigtails?" Pascal uttered in a much more straightforward and arguably hypocritical manner, informally dubbing the girl 'pigtails' as a placeholder name given the lack of an introduction. Nevertheless, his lacklustre voice persisted and will likely remain as such throughout the entirety of the wry exchange. It was quite unambiguous as to how the passers-by perceived Pascal, casting him understandably incredulous glances and nearby pedestrians bypassing him by at least a couple meters. Somewhere between six and seven feet above ground level was a proliferating smog of potent tobacco smoke, the stick by the man's lips now nearly depleted just a mere 2 minutes after ignition despite the alleged 'quality' of its brand.
The eccentric man's head retained its downward angle in order to face the girl who was for some reason, still beside him, perfect... "So... I have a questio-" Upon heeding the lack of smoke propagating before him, his two fingers promptly clamped onto the cigarette butt still positioned by his lips. Pascal's eyes then shifted towards the nearby trash can to which he he nonchalantly tossed the remnants of his cigarette only for it to miss by several inches. Pacal awkwardly stared at the litter on the ground for a couple seconds prior to redirecting his gaze back to his new acquaintance whilst one hand fumbled about his coat pocket for another round.
She would have to start reminding herself why she'd gotten involved with this man in the first place. It was unfortunate enough to almost meet her death in the hands of a dumb speeding truck, but then again, at least she saved a life. Well... at least, a strange one's life. But she ends up next to him, panting and immediately grateful she wasn't hit by that damn truck. However, something else needs to be reconsiders. A strange man would have likely been the cause if the truck had arrived sooner before she approached him.
[break][break]It was awkward between them once again, and by now Kaylie manages to calm down from her untimely misfortune. There were fewer people walking around from where they were standing right now; from the corner of her eye she could see others sparing them strange glances behind their back. Oh great, now she's also being suspected as one with this guy. But she cannot do anything about it, however. It's only human nature to be interested in some things, no matter how strange those things will be. Kaylie slowly turns her head to her company, and she finds herself staring at the cigarette in his mouth.
[break][break]Smoking is unhealthy (very) and everyone knows that, but the guy doesn't seem to mind. Has he been going through a lot of cigarette butts before she met him? A very strange acquaintance, indeed. She is about to say something about this strange habit, but she stops herself once he advance to the road, seemingly inspecting it. Maybe he'd been wondering about what happened just a while ago. She can summarize for him, though: he steps away, she almost dies, the truck fucks off. End of story.
[break][break]He doesn't need it. The man starts speaking in strange languages again, but while some words will never be familiar to her, she does seem to understand what he's trying to say. Be careful, huh... too be honest, she isn't really concerned about herself, but life is important as it is fragile. She'll take that of note, that's for sure. She tells him this with a slight nod of her head.
[break][break]Then he converts back to the English language again, and she is almost caught in surprise when he suddenly addresses her as "pigtails". Her shoulders jump and she stands stiff, shaking a little at the embarrassing nickname given to her. "P-P-Pigtails..." She murmurs, almost darkly, her fingers curling into fists and her face in a murderous smirk. I could so swear to dear sweet Akari if ever someone's going to call me that, I'm gonna kill them... god that's gonna be embarrassing.
[break][break]He then declares he has a question but he does not finish his sentence, instead throwing a shortened cigarette to a nearby trash can. It fails to make it to its home, though, and instead lands on the floor, the white spot now painted in black in spots of dots and dust. She stares at the poor unfortunate cigarette butt for a few moments before turning to him again, her face now nonchalant as he goes for another round.
[break][break]"...You have a question. Yes." She continues for him, with a tilt of her head. "What would that be, mister Cig?"
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Aaah, late reply and I'm so sorry for this! But here it is!
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 635
NOTES PM me for any questions.
The chain smoker's appetite for more nicotine was quite palpable as he rummaged through his deep, and noticeably filled pockets. It's stimulating effect rendered Pascal rather dependent on it despite the otherwise detrimental effect on one's body, for any normal and living mortals that is. Extracting another length of potential cancer, according to popular belief at least, the white-haired man nimbly equipped his zippo lighter on the other hand. Just a moment prior to him positioning the thin cylindrical paper to his lips, the girl commented. Already, Pascal could detect the passive-aggressive undertones of her voice and body language, how cute. "Muy bien, I approve of that nickname, henceforth, I shall be referred to by the nom de guerre... “Mr. Cigs”...." Pascal flatly declared. "And as such, I hereby bestow upon thee the alias "Ms. Pigtails..." He added shortly before looking away and spinning the flint wheel of his lighter with a flick of his wrist.
Cigarette and mouth and his arms still outstretched, the lighter sticking by the edge of his fingers was curiously not ignited as the chain smoker intended. Hastily retracting his arms and inelegantly snapping the lighter's flint wheel with his thumb multiple times, it soon became apparent that the lighter was no longer functioning. So much for a flashy exhibition of zippo lighter tricks as he was reduced to awkwardly jerking the defective lighter and uncovering the fact that it still contained a substantial amount of lighter fluid whilst spiritless eyes glanced over to Ms. Pigtails every now and then. Before long, Pascal turned towards the pigtail girl's general direction and blankly stared at his expensive-looking yet now faulty product for about 10 seconds before nodding and suddenly tossing it over the same trash can only for its metallic surface to bounce off the rim, ricocheting meters away on the slippery ground.
Pascal then made a rather nonessential remark, seemingly towards no one in particular. "I appear to have been... deprived of a device to ignite the narrow cylinder of tobacco... currently located in my mouth..." Nevertheless, he withdrew the stick of cigarette from his mouth accordingly before once again redirecting his attention towards Ms. Pigtails "Very... well then Pigtail-san, as for the inquiry prior..." Pascal utter shortly before offering the nearby vicinity a brief scanning. "Disregarding the unfounded hypothesis presented to me by my optic nerves in consideration of your theoretical psyche, I present you this query; do you, Ms. Pigtails, consider yourself above the 75th percentile in the IQ chart or at the very least, well-versed in the fields of trivium, quadrivium and metaphysics?" He inquired the young woman. The static intonation emitted by his husky voice rendered his remark more robotic than it already is, having been articulated whilst Pascal's eyes seemingly drifted elsewhere.
A few seconds later, Pascal managed to read the mood and instead opted to once again translate the earlier statement to layman's terms, this time much more colloquial in manner and further implying his agenda. "...Well girl, you smart?... this might just be your lucky day see..." Pascal crudely stated shortly before a dapper young man wearing a frock coat briskly walked past Ms. Pigtails and quickly approached Pascal. "Monsieur Tarento, votre briquet" The young, blonde man declared in French before procuring a zippo lighter from his own pocket. Pascal nodded in response "Ah Alexandre, mais oui... mille mercis..." before casually taking it. Hastily afterwards, the young man, Alexandre whizzed past both Pascal and the young woman and quickly turned towards a narrow alleyway nearby, never to be seen again. As for Pascal, he remained abnormally aloof as he engrossed himself in kindling the head of his cigarette, inhaling it deeply afterwards. A cloud of smoke soon billowed from Pascal's mouth before finally staring back at the girl "So… you feeling lucky today?"
It doesn't seem like he will stop lighting cigarettes. She is not met with an answer, instead left watching his various attempts of trying to turn on the lighter. Her eyebrows furrow slightly while she watches, both people met with silence. Whether or not they would be able to engage in a decent conversation is up to Fate to determine for now. But it's most unlikely. This man must be in love with his smoking habit, she doesn't know what she would have to do.
[break][break]"Mr. Cigs it is, then..." She flatly states as he declares approval to the nicknames she had provided. "Although I would much rather prefer you call me something other than 'Ms. Pigtails', though. It's getting annoying." Well, not to say he should do as she says, since he doesn't even know her name yet, but still... at least something better than such ridiculousness.
[break][break]Then, silence. But it does not last long, however, which makes Kaylie consider her unfortunate predicament. The lighter does not function properly, refusing to cooperate with the young man, and as he consecutively shares her a few glances before looking away and so on and so forth, she could only smirk slightly at this. Only then further more does her amusement grow once he throws away the presumably empty lighter. He even makes a strange statement about it after throwing it away. Deciding to give up, eh? Well... that's good. At least his health is not in dire peril anymore.
[break][break]Later on, she finds herself being questioned by the man; at this, she raises an eyebrow, but it does make a little more sense than his statements before. "...Well... I..." She stops when he clarifies for her, and she nods in understanding. "...I don't really consider myself smart, though I am knowledgeable about a few things taught to me long ago." Perhaps it could also be a potential hint of her secret magical powers, but that is still a bound secret that shouldn't be known but by a few.
[break][break]Another foreign voice comes out of the blue, and she peeks to look behind Mr. Cigs. A blonde man walks up to him, tosses him a lighter, and after that disappears into an alleyway. Not so much of a grand entrance, and a grand exit... But because of him, he will be lighting cigarettes again and he would continue his disastrous habit. But Kaylie has had enough of worrying about bullheads for now. She'll simply go mind her own business.
[break][break]Then his attention is drawn back to her, this time with a different question. It makes her raise an eyebrow; how could one determine they are lucky or unlucky with just a few interactions?
[break][break]"...Honestly, I feel quite unlucky." Meeting with a strange man is omen enough, but then again she talked to him out of her own volition. "I'm always unlucky."
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Kinda late, kinda not? I dunno? But yes, maybe it is Kaylie's lucky day... >
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 591
NOTES MERRY CHRISTMAS! Here have a late reply XD
Unbeknownst to the dumfounded young woman, Pascal had somehow managed to discern every bodily reaction to his otherwise objectionable quirks. Admittedly, she has proven to be quite an unconventional young specimen so far. Perhaps it was only apt that that inadvertently partake in Pascal's bizarre machinations considering the chain of events which compelled the tall yet sickly looking man to a leisurely mood. She had after all, decided to approach his near vicinity despite the hazards of oncoming vehicles, as was clearly demonstrated in the nerve-racking incident prior. Furthermore, the pale azure tint of her pigtailed hair curiously invoked a peculiar sense of fascination within the otherwise apathetic misfit of a man. By deciding not to outright abandon him as most others would, Ms. Pigtails over here technically brought it upon herself. Whether or not her day will be a lucky or unlucky one, depends entirely on no one. To call such a fortuitous encounter 'destiny' might be stretching it a bit.
From within the obscuring clouds of cigarette smoke more than 6 feet above ground level, Pascal's sluggish-looking eyes beheld upon the girl's apathetic constitution with regards to the all too sudden entrance and departure of his acquaintance only to "incidentally" hand him a lighter. In accordance to the observation made so far, it is quite discernible the symptoms of melancholic behavior normally attributed to jaded and depressed individuals. With two dexterous fingers, Pascal temporarily lifted the stick of cigarette off his lips, once again to exhales deeply so as to expel the all too usual cascade of fumes from his lungs as he ponders. The people of this generation are quite the fickle ones, relatively speaking. As compared to the truly battered and broken souls from less-than-fortunate regions in both past and present, they counter-intuitively appear to be less dispirited and irritable than their comparatively more privileged present-day counterparts.
All of a sudden, Pascal's free hand gingerly dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a relatively early model smartphone whilst his eyes seemingly drifted off to nowhere in particular. Before long, he brought close to his face the phone's screen as his thumbs tapped away in an exceedingly nimble manner. "Subject "Alice Blue, A.K.A Pigtails"... appears to be... stable... exhibiting traits commonly associated to bourgeoisie of Generation Z." Pascal half-heartedly declared in an unceremonious fashion. Truth be told, the LCD screen mere inches adjacent to Pascal's face displayed nothing in spite of the animated tapping motion Pascal emulated so as to convey the impression of someone's sending a message. Almost immediately afterwards, his otherwise lethargic arms unanticipatedly jerked to his side such that it now held the phone away from his face in an outstretched position. As such, his lips once again met with the cigarette's filter whilst his body twisted in order to let him face the young woman's general direction.
There he was, stuck in a... bizarre pose, so to speak. Awkward silence followed for about a few seconds prior to Pascal lazily pocketing his phone and dusting snow off his coat. "In accordance... with the theory of probability and approximation... I guarantee that your interpretation.... with regards to the relative frequencies and outcomes of certain events... is entirely idiosyncratic." Pascal sluggishly stated whilst in the process of loosening the hefty bag from his shoulders before setting it down on the ground. "Worry not, the subtle depressogenic effect of the nearby urban scenery holds no weight in this project..." He further added, now taking his sweet time in scavenging the contents of his bag for something.
Kaylie's earlier nonchalant disposition suddenly changes as she finds her attention drawn back to the tall man, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. She never thought a man as old fashioned as him would have a smart phone, of all things, but then again it's a rather earlier model and not the latest she could see between the hands of young generations. There are many expectations broken this day, Kaylie thinks to herself. Perhaps her meeting with this man is indeed turning more interesting.
[break][break]Confusion is not much evident once words come out of his mouth, though she does hear 'Alice Blue' combined with 'Ms. Pigtails' once again. Alice Blue is much better than Ms. Pigtails, she wants to tell him. But then again, now quite knowing the conversational patterns of the man, telling him this would only fall on deaf ears. She decides to let him be for now, but she cannot stop an exasperated sigh from escaping her mouth.
[break][break]He takes in a cigarette in his mouth again, but keeps typing on his phone. His current position makes her raise an eyebrow. People could manage to be in the most peculiar poses as possible, now could they... she keeps staring at him, eyebrows maintained in their same state, but no words escape her mouth as she's too confused to even talk. She keeps standing there without anything to say, unless he says something complicated again.
[break][break]...And he does, as soon as he starts addressing her with his next words, she finds her eyebrows furrowing. No one had cared of her interpretations with the world before, so why is this man pointing it out now? She closes her eyes and sighs with exasperation once more. "I... tend not to see the world as cheerful as others think it is." She states, mainly to herself. "Maybe it's idiosyncratic to others, but it isn't to me."
[break][break]She could laugh at his next statement, but she could only manage a smirk. "What exactly is the purpose of this project, Mr. Cigs?" Kaylie figured it could be something to do with his process of interaction, but socializing seems to be not his forte at all. Strange actions from strange people always make her wonder, it's just how it is.
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 912
NOTES Lol zenon is late
It was high time that Pascal finally commenced his so-called, 'research' despite the fact that it was merely a ruse to hide an inclination to satirize a less psychologically resilient generation. The old soul felt compelled to hasten his extraction of the necessary paraphernalia for the resultant act, not ruling out the possibility of hearing more tales of woe. Perhaps the one thing that remained certain was that Pascal persisted in observing her in a most clandestine manner... even as he now laid on his knees, his long arms rummaging through the contents of the sizable nylon bag. Unsurprisingly at this point, the white-haired man donned a crouching position facing the opposite the pigtailed girl's direction, his attention somehow shifting between skimming through the bag's interior and glancing over the nearby radius for some odd reason. All the while, his free hand performed subtle yet quirky motions and signals, obscuring such maneuvers from the young woman's line of sight with his own body.
Pascal's latest remarks was by no means, a metaphor. Before long, the sparsely populated streets that encompassed their line of vision reached a certain point where not a single soul was in sight. Paying no heed to the girl's self-conscious ramblings, he simply nodded in irregular intervals whilst his blank eyes surveyed the scenery. In the meantime, shiftless fingers leisurely foraged through the cramped insides of the rucksack. Unable to utilize his sense of sight due to the admittedly disorganized arrangement of his equipment, he was rendered almost entirely reliant on his sense of touch. With his hand and fingers snaking through various gaps and contours, he was able to perceive the following; a rare metalloid detection device, a customized GPS, a variety of codexes and ancient manuscripts... a semi-automatic Glock 19 pistol.
Regardless, as soon as Pascal's fingers identified a compacted, paper-like article folded multiple times into its now squarish form, Codename Alice Blue wryly voiced out her inquiries as such. Concurrently, a small group of college students who Pascal was somehow acquainted with as Dr. Laurent were about to enter their line of sight afer they cross an intersection. This information he had managed to decipher with the aid of a few... 'miscellaneous sources'. He then hastily yanked out the aforementioned folded banner and raised it overheard as he bounced back to his feet. "Da da-da-daaaa...." he uttered... a rather pathetic imitation of a once popular animated series from the 70's before he turned back to Ms. Pigtails.
"Well then, let me... enlighten you..." He proudly responded to her question in his ever so deadpan voice as he deftly swung the folded article at a certain angle in mid-air in a way such that the oncoming wind blew onto it's crevices, smoothly unfolding it in the process. Meanwhile, Pascal took this opportunity to don an unnecessarily dramatic pose as he withdrew the cigarette from his lips and outstretched the hand holding it towards the girl's general direction just as soon as the banner gradually descended down the snow-covered concrete, seemingly in anticipation of a flashy spectacle to come...
... Which was the original plan until the said 10x10 poster regrettably turned out to be a world map from the early 20th century complete with routes drawn by pen, a ridiculously copious amounts of lines so to speak, encompassing all 7 continents. He had apparently equipped the wrong poster for the occasion. After a couple seconds of pause, Pascal regrettably retracted his pose as he once again redirected his attention towards his rucksack still positioned on the floor... so much for acting like a hotshot. Hauling the burdensome thing upwards, he then wasted no time in emptying the bag's contents to the ground in retrospect to the group of familiar people being supposedly seconds away from coming into view. "Daniela!" He declared whilst the contents of the bag including two handguns, an assortment of fungi samples encased in a clear plastic container and what appeared to be a cylindrical bong, fell down the snow.
Moreover, a young, dark-haired woman clad in a black fur-coat somehow materialized her physical form whilst Pascal languidly snatched a crude-looking felt parchment folded into a similarly compacted square off the ground. "Uh...am nevoie de ajutorul tău..." Pascal declared as he hastily unfolded the large poster by hand this time. The woman, Daniela then responded in a heavily accented English "As you wish, Professor Kolganov" to which Pascal responded "No no no, that's 'Monsieur Tarento' for you..." in an attempt to correct her for using an alias he employed last year. Before long, Pascal endeavored to lay the parchment containing a pre-drawn hex-circle before him whilst Daniela hastily collected the various equipment Pascal so unceremoniously dropped.
Whether the young woman wished to participate in Pascal's escapades mattered not. As far as Pascal was concerned, she brought this upon herself by merely showering him with enough attention to the point of arousing his interest. He then chanted in an alien language "Usstan lar tau... lil' senger d'lil thalar..." ... Before too long, the nearby radius of around 15 meters became tainted in icy blue light for a fleeting moment before both Pascal and his subject; Alice Blue, disappeared from the streets, leaving only Daniela who was still in the process of clearing Pascal's mess.
The young woman would have seen only darkness... and in the midst of the darkness appeared Pascal and him alone, heavily panting and groaning due to his apparent fatigue.
She slaps herself mentally and proceeds to ask why she bothers to stay. Every second with this man is like watching the world slowly rot after a few years, maybe because it had become too bored to entertain nature's problems right now. He does strange things again, and Kaylie thinks it's nothing more of an interesting act. It's all just... strange. Because first of all he doesn't answer her question, the purpose of this so called "experiment". She could just leave right now and leave this man to his own devices. It's not like he would care.
[break][break]But she stays anyway, which was her strong sole choice to do so. Her eyes beg to differ; the strange movements this man conducts is just too amusing to even walk away from. A rolled-up poster (is that even a poster, Kaylie wonders) is pulled out of his relatively small bag (Kaylie questions how that came to be). But she finds herself staring at a map of the whole world, and at this she raises an eyebrow. What exactly is this man trying to pull off... as much as she would want an answer, Kaylie doesn't bother asking out loud. She would get nothing anyway.
[break][break]...Her eyes almost twitches once he begins emptying his bag, things on the ground like worthless trash. Now that was just rude. Who does he expect would clean that up?! She would have been shouting at him right now, telling him to pick his things and just go home. But that was another side of her. He wouldn't care anyway. Kaylie knows he's too busy conducting his experiment... with her being the guinea pig.
[break][break]Which was her initial reaction had it not been for a woman in a fur coat suddenly materializing out of thin air. This certainly makes Kaylie jump, eyes wide as plates as she stares in awe at the woman whom Mr. Cigs has deemed a... "Daniela". "Is this... someone you know...?" Her voice is barely a whisper, pointing to the woman. It's clear to be directed to Mr. Cigs even though her eyes are entirely focused on someone else. She does not expect him to answer, anyway, so she withdraws her hand, though her eyes are still affixed to the strange woman who apparently appeared out of nowhere.
[break][break]Mr. Cigs and Daniela speak among themselves, and she hears a strange name again that would probably allude to him but she cares not for that. Kaylie doesn't pay much attention to whatever alien language Mr. Cigs is muttering to himself again, instead choosing to stare at Daniela. She almost pities him once she begins cleaning up the mess Mr. Cigs has made. Really, she's no slave isn't she? Kaylie would be helping her right now, but she's left to stare with a pitying smile on herself.
[break][break]Suddenly everything glows in a blue light, and everything fades away into darkness. Her eyes widen again and she frantically looks around, not knowing where she is. Whatever trick this man is pulling off is probably another part of the experiment he is talking about... but still, this place makes her wary. She sees the man a few distances away, panting; had he just cast a spell on her?
[break][break]Her eyebrow furrow and she glares at him in alarm. "Mr. Cigs, where is this?"
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Pascal goodness, also I'm wondering is this voodoo? Or O.O
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 716
NOTES NOPE, HEX MAGIC XD. AGAIN PM FOR QUESTIONS, IT'LL ONLY GET WEIRDER FROM HERE ON OUT.
Admittedly, Pascal had exerted more effort into this "leisurely" venture of his, having been reduced to clutching both knees whilst catching his breath as a result of the rather unpremeditated teleportation spell. Little does his hapless young subject know of the far-fetched nature of Pascal's magic, for they have now been transported a little less than a kilometer away from their original location. Both of them, are in fact, now in an isolated alleyway adjacent to a retail warehouse. The seemingly all-encompassing blackness might have conveyed the pretense of an illusion, which was strangely enough, not the case. A dome of darkness 20 feet in radius is currently being conjured by Pascal himself in spite of his supposedly enervated demeanor. Although any semblance of snow was absent, the subzero temperatures remained within the field of dark magic.
It did not take long for the cigarette stick in Pascal's lips to exhaust completely, prompting him to spit the butt out before stretching his back to an upright position. The young woman was reasonably startled, having just been thrust into such an outlandish landscape in a considerably abrupt fashion, although interestingly, she was not as dumbfounded as Pascal anticipated. Subject Alice Blue appears to be level-headed to say the least, either that or she has prior experience with regards to similarly alarming situations. Unsurprisingly, the girl's inquiries were once again, postponed by the chain smoker's instinctive urge to pluck out another stick. Following a few seconds of igniting yet another cigarette and puffing continuous streams of smoke, Pascal finally responded to his victim's concerns.
Truth be told, the whole facade regarding Pascal's purported "experiment" was but an impromptu performance. The preposterous yet scrupulous nature of his deception was a risky gamble, as was always the case. Pascal actually went as far as to utilize a religious chant from a now extinct Fae language whilst performing the "spell" despite such steps being unnecessary for hex-based magic. "We have now entered Phaedra's Gate... Welcome... to the 5th Dimension, Subject: Alice Blue..." Pascal lazily declared. Underestimating the girl's perceptive capabilities was certainly not on Pascal's agenda taking into account his analysis of the girl's temperament. Either way, it was already too late for the female subject to object to his unexplained whims.
"Sorry... for instances of Schadenfreude earlier... is safe now..." Pascal started whilst seemingly surveying the near vicinity despite there not being a necessity to do so. After all, most of his spirit followers, Alexandre and Daniela included, had been left behind back at the streets following the teleportation process. "Being watched outside... government conspiracy... would take too long to explain..." At this point, Pascal's knack for wordplay gradually faltered. Any more falsified explanations were unneeded as the girl appeared sensible enough to disregard such heavy and ludicrous expositions, especially from a stranger. Whilst placing a hand in his inner coat pocket Pascal uttered, his speech patterns becoming more monotonous and dull each passing second "Worry not... will not harm... though Schadenfreude may resume... "
Within the surreal space of supposedly dark matter, the sight of Pascal's face gradually losing saturation to the point of exhibiting a deathly pale complexion would have been quite noticeable. Regardless, Pascal withdrew a closed fist from his inner coat pocket and shortly afterwards, placed the said hand before him. As his fist slowly unravelled what was inside, a liquid-like, irregular shaped, dark crimson matter soon hovered over his palm from where a small white marble would have been visible. Before long, the liquid substance quickly solidified into a diamond shaped matter with approximately 14 sides. "Behold... Tetrakaidecahedron of Flavius..." Pascal proclaimed, outstretching his hand for the girl to witness. The gem-like amalgamation of dark matter and god-knows-what rotated in place, directly above the marble.
Shortly afterwards, Pascal added "This... triangular orthobipucola... holds information... coveted by secret organizations worldwide..." He then proceeded to saunter closer towards Subject Alice Blue, his languid eyes locked onto to that of hers all the while. "Isn't that right Subject: Alice Blue?... or should I say..." Pascal then paused as he halted in his tracks. "Major Harriet Kristensen of the HELG organization!...." Pascal asserted... in a rather unmotivated manner whilst his free hands pointed towards her. Of course, Pascal was conscious of this unfounded accusation, again all part of the scheme.
Darkness is still more than just evident, but it's opacity starts lowering slowly, which reveals that Kaylie and her company are not really in a total oblivion at all. It looks to be an alleyway, from the way her eyes dart behind her to look around... but then again, none of that really matters right now. Her former minor panic only seconds ago deteriorates and she turns her head to Mr. Cigs once more, a small smirk on her face. So this guy does magic, huh... Kaylie is urged to show him some of what she had learned of the matter as well, but right now isn't really necessary, so he lets her continue.
[break][break]Her question remains unanswered for a while, as she watches with a small hint of irritation from a distance away as the strange man spits out the exhausted cigarette butt to the floor. Kaylie is just as tempted to force him to just speak up already, but instead she stands and remains silent, until finally she hears words coming out of his mouth. Surprisingly, it's a strange translation of the answer she had wanted when he had asked him earlier. Kaylie doesn't like overthinking matters, really. But this place being considered Phaedra's Gate and the 5th Dimension... both seem too peculiar to ignore.
[break][break]He mentions a Schadenfreude and a government conspiracy in a complicated web of lame phrases; as much as she would love to ask more about such, those are probably not subjects of interest. But only then does their conversation seem to change quite a bit once he holds out his hand. Suddenly, two things float just above his palm; a marble, and a diamond shaped object just above it. Mr. Cigs claims the device to hold information wanted by secret organizations, something she really doesn't care much about.
[break][break]...That is, until he clears a few meters of distance between them and points at her, calling her of a name very different of her own.
[break][break]...She blinks up at him, really unsure how to respond, and the name chosen for her to be called as in this grand scheme is just... ridiculous, nice as it is. But a giggle erupts, and she bites her lower lip to stop it; however, feelings are stubborn, and suddenly she is laughing out loud, holding onto her aching stomach. She laughs for a few seconds, and then a few minutes, until finally, she stops, breathing deeply while wiping tears protruding from her eyes.
[break][break]"Very, very funny Mr. Cigs." She says in between giggles and pants, trying her very best not to continue laughing. "Just... what are you onto? Why Phaedra's Gate for this measly place of all things? Who's this... Major Harriett... something-something? What even was that floating thing on your palm a while earlier? Just what are you up to?" Kaylie crosses her arms and leans to stare directly at the man, a open-mouthed and interested smile on her face. Questions are probably supposed to be the norm here. There're so many questionable things he had been doing, there's no reason to not ask at all.
[attr="class","boxo-notes"]Ah, hex magic! I should have known. *tsk*
The Golden City fell, and with it our lives went up in flames
TAG @kaylie
WORDS 1009
NOTES Well, here we go. Again do PM me if there's anything you're unclear about
In the midst of Pascal's long-winded charade, the young female subject Alice Blue, somehow became cognizant of supposed experiment's remarkably whimsical nature. Of course, Pascal was conscious of the fact that the subject will remain skeptical of his words as virtually all of the previous subjects shared similar notions at first. His goal was not to deceive as much as it was to humor himself after all. Although there were quite a few factors with regards to Ms. Pigtails which the tall, white-haired man felt a compulsive urge to scrutinize beforehand. Subject Alice Blue's rather amused response indicated an unhealthy lack of urgency especially considering the outlandish situation presented to her. Well... unhealthy for human standards notwithstanding the likeliness of her being a different species entirely. Furthermore, she appeared to be mindful of the dome of blackness being merely a fluke which compelled Pascal to hypothesize further.
One probable explanation was that the subject possessed the ability to perceive the infrared spectrum of the electromagnetic spectrum, enabling her to see via thermal imaging, this however was a very unlikely scenario. Another possible explanation was clairvoyance, she could perhaps had been endowed with the necessary capabilities in order to foresee future events via their innate gift or through hexes. In the end, however, Pascal merely concluded the girl's lacklustre reaction to be a product of sheer pessimism as is evidenced by her outward disposition. How... regrettable indeed, the self-satisfied expression she displayed, it left a bad taste. With such an unsatisfactory reaction, Pascal now felt compelled to accentuate the absurdity he knowingly placed upon her.
As such, the already pure shade of black exhibited by the supposedly ambient darkness was soon stained by several specks of dark-violet spectres vaguely resembling cracks which began drifting aimlessly throughout the enclosed space in a rather vigorous manner. The spectral-looking, shadowy lights would have phased through any and all organic solids, merely acting as ornaments for Pascal's scheme. Before long, the once vibrant deep blue iris of his left eye desaturated along with its whites, prompting him to casually turn back from the young woman lest she notice the abnormal change. Never would he have expected to exert this much energy for today's performance to the point of his eye blackening. In the meantime, a lazy hand once again foraged his deep coat pockets for something to conceal the now blackened eye. In an admittedly offhanded manner, Pascal nonchalantly fitted a pair of aviator sunglasses by his eyes before redirecting his gaze back to Ms. Pigtails.
The alien-looking object which Pascal proclaimed the 'Tetrakaidecahedron of Flavius' simply hovered in place where it had been left in the midst of Pascal's shades wearing shenanigans. Pascal's palms promptly returned to its outstretched position so as to act as the Tetradecahedron's foundation. "I ask you the same Major Harriet... you cannot fool me..." Pascal blandly stated prior to hovering the dark-crimson matter further upwards, several feet directly over him. Although the white-haired man's countenance remained static throughout the duration of their coincidental exchange, the implications behind his words and actions alluded to a more serious tone this time. "The Tetradecahedron... you know not of its power..." Pascal further stated as his voice grew ever hoarser than before as a slightly debilitating aura suddenly emanated from Pascal's languid form, the hapless young subject would have at least felt a faint queasiness in her stomach upon the man's mere presence alone. Nevertheless, Pascal took extra measures so as to emit merely a small fraction of his dreadful aura.
In his noticeably slouched position, the eccentric, pale man raised his right arm overheard, hands outstretched. "My name... is Pascal Tarento... or so HELG thought-" he claimed prior to spreading open his hands, inducing the 14-sided solid matter to liquefy and spread thinly in midair. Shortly afterwards, the liquefied, dark-crimson matter orbited around Pascal prior to him hastily donning a T-pose, rendering the granules of dark-crimson liquid immobile. In coordination with Pascal's lowering of arms, the liquefied matter descended onto the floor of dark matter surrounding the caster himself. Upon closer inspection, the said matter now stained the blackened floor in the form of an intricate hex circle, and in its center, he stood listlessly. "Behold... for I am Belphegor..." Pascal announced in his raspy voice whilst his head remained ever-so lowered. He then slowly raised his head, subjecting the young female subject to his gaze before declaring "...former Duke of Hell's 6th circle..."
Of course being a Duke of Hell was a lie. Pascal was no demon, he was in fact a lich. There were no secret organizations, no Phaedra's Gate nor a Tetrakaidecahedron of Flavius, for those were all but fictional plot devices in an obscure novel of his, written over a century ago. Before the ancient lich's draining aura, the constitution of living mortals will falter, and the unfortunate young woman lay entrapped in his spell. "...and behold... the 4th Seal of Volos... entrusted upon me... by The Great One himself..." Pascal asserted whilst fastening his aviator sunglasses in place. "Foolish mortal... may you soon succumb... to the law of entropy... you intend to tear asunder... the fabric of space and time... for your self-serving needs?" he uttered in a deliberately exasperated fashion in tandem with his already croaky tone. Before long, the lich, still masquerading as a demon, pointed an accusatory finger at the young subject all whilst haltingly limping towards her in a most eerie fashion, stepping through each outlining circle of his self-made hex. At long last, the real 'experiment' has finally commenced.
In each fleeting second, symptoms of biological degeneration began to gradually surface on his physique. The already pale flesh masking the undead man's decrepit form has slowly distorted to a dehydrated and dreary tint of ash-grey in the midst of his limping process. The outstretched finger remained as his other free, lolling hand suddenly burst into blackened flames whilst swaying downwards. "Do not misunderstand... I am the one... asking questions... Major Harriet..." Pascal forced out, in an intentionally husky manner of course.
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