Hunted | Jenmae

[Seren]

Location: Forests, Cularin​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

And altered it was.

In a time that had not yet come...in a place that was all too familiar...the final shape of Cularin had been made manifest. In that time, spacers spoke of the world with fondness, remembering how lush and humid it once was before the Calamity. They would speak with hopeful tones that the nation - the Confederacy - would step in to do something about the widespread defamation of such an iconic world. But, what they didn't know, was that the Young Wolf was a perceptive man. When it came to painting the masterpiece for his betrothed, he wasted not a single effort. It took many lives, and many more sacrifices of blood, to twist the land in such a way it illicited a smile from the pallid woman. The abyssal depths of her eyes gleamed with warmth on the final day, watching as the sun itself bled crimson in response to his efforts.

And while the effect only persisted whilst on Cularin, it was a testament to his devotion to the White Witch. Together, they would color all creation a beautiful, vibrant shade of blood. But. That was another time. That was another Jenmae. For the woman who stood beside him was a memory to the Wolf. He had the privilege of reaching through space and time to grace her pale cheek with his touch, anointing her with the blood of a freshly extinguished life. This day, they returned to Cularin and promptly disembarked - and as Seren descended down the ramp, his arms opened wide to receive the currently-lush world. Gone were the smouldering mountains. Gone with the thralls who worked tirelessly to harvest every scrap of usefulness from the planet's surface. Gone was the perpetual scent of copper that only blood could provide.

Cularin, in the present, was a fresh start. And there was so much work to be done.

Yet, Seren looked upon this world with excitement. Mirth rippled through their union, filling the witches' thoughts with memories that were not her own. Of wild dreams made manifest through their efforts. The Wolf beamed as he turned, briefly offering her a genuine smirk before raising his mask to his lips. "It is so good to be home." he breathed, greeting her with the slightly accented tone which came from donning his "visage." "Tell me...how much progress have you made on the Well thus far?" The Well...was the first step in fulfilling her aspirations. A dream she had shared with a much younger Seren much later on in their "relationship." And, though this was his past...time was a fickle mistress. Some lines ebbed, some flowed. There was no guarantee that this one was identical...and thus, he had to ask.

Just how many lives had she consumed thus far?

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Curlain​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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It would not show on her face as the man hurried down the ramp, his arms thrown wide as his burning gaze took in all of their home, but there was a peace in her that she had not expected when he had returned to her in that cavern, so many systems away. She could see in his mind what the planet would become, and just as it would make her smile then, it caused a small smile now. His devotion to her was exactly as it should be, complete and without question – and she would use it to bring about all this devastation that he shared with her. He had made himself the perfect weapon she needed, and she would see he was rewarded for his efforts.

As her feet met the soft earth at the end of the ramp, she regarded him curiously, the softly accented voice that filtered through his mask something she would need to commit to memory. The Well… She turned her gaze back to the lush trees and greenery that surrounded them, not needing to show him the way as he led them towards where he knew their home to be. “I am the Well, for now.” Her voice was soft, but she assumed that he would both hear and understand her meaning.

What they would build together would be terrible and magnificent – but currently, all that power, all those lives, were stored within her. She reached through that connection that they shared, one she was silently grateful for as there was no need to push at all; he was open to her, no need to ask or prod, just a wealth of power and knowledge that was hers to peruse. His questions, unspoken, about what work she’d done would be answered with an unspoken thought of her own. Images flowed through that connection unbidden, flashes of blood bathing her skin, the floors, the walls… Everything.

What she had now would be nothing compared to what they would build, but there was so many dead in her wake that it was hard to number them even now… The first few, as she knew his would have been, were sloppy. What remained of them had been used too quickly because what had been taken was too little. With time she’d learned to take more, to harvest all she could; and those lives? Those lives flowed through her like a river, a pale vision beside what filled him now, but it would be enough to start the work that was needed to establish a true Well here on Curlain.

“Show me. I want to see how it was done.” Her hands raised from her sides, beckoning him closer. It didn’t require touch for him to share with her how they’d made this first step come to life, but she could feel the power in him that she wanted, and she could feel in him a desire to be close to her. It would be easy enough to give him that while she got the information she craved.

 

[Seren]

Location: Home, Cularin​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

I am the Well…

Those four miniscule utterings carried with them an ocean of truth. For as they formed and fell from pallid lips, the Young Wolf find his mind subject to the touch of his beloved. Her efforts became as plain as memory, manifesting before his mind's eye as glimpses of the past. Indeed, she had conducted all the fledgling efforts required of their grand design. Yet, in comparison to the sanguine masterpiece that they would create, the totality of her time was as an infant taking its first steps. Momentous, yes. But miniscule in the face of an Olympian running at his swiftest. For but a moment, the Young Wolf touched the side of his finger to his chin. His mind was alive with quiet musings of how best to proceed from this point. They would need a source - something small, yet consistent. Something that would not draw too much attention.

In the era before the Confederacy...before his "uncle" decided to bring democracy back to the southern systems, slavery would have been the answer to this plight. How elementary it would have been to pluck a few unfortunate sods up from Hutt Space and subject them to the purest agonies. His lips twitched at the thought. But no, that was not an option. Even if he were to resume his farce of a role within the Knights Obsidian to keep them two steps ahead of the nation, they could not afford to draw that sort of negative attention. That was one of the many mistakes they had made in his past. It was a mistake he would not waste his Jenmae's time with. Never again.

His train of thought was breached by the succulent tone of her voice. She wanted to know how they did it. How they uplifted the world of Cularin into the birthplace of the Well. How he became far greater than the Lupine which had fallen victim to the ethereal flames on M'Haeli. His lips, already bemused by his thoughts, curved into a toothy grin. It was safe to say that the Young Wolf knew his Jenmae. Knew how she thought. Knew what she craved. And, knew that she was aware of how to get what she wanted from the Wolf. There was no doubt in his mind that, the woman of the future, shared in that same devotion that colored his footsteps. That she who was left behind viewed him as being hers. But in the here and now...it would take time for that to return.

Nonetheless, his arm ensnared the small of her waist and drew her close. His hunger for her touch drove him to crush his lips upon hers - and as a reward for satisfying his need, the secret was made apparent to her. A rapid flow of images flowed through her mind. A battle, fabricated to hide the monumental loss of life. A "civil war" between the Lupine clans, fought on Cularin was the story. In truth, pylons had been erected out of the earth. Numerous thralls hummed and chanted their lives away. The masses they ensnared in their trap howled their last as crimson fire erupted from the earth. Their cries filling the air as the heavens wept tears of black. And in the end, there was but one pylon which remained. It cracked and oozed with the life blood of those who had fallen. It flowed everlasting. By the deaths of thousands had their Well come to life.

"Satisfied, my love?" he asked, upon coming up for air.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Curlain​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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She didn't attempt to slow him as he came towards her, the arms which she had extending lifting to gently lay against his upper arms as he wrapped his own arms around her waist. The time he had spent with her in this other life had made him bold, had completely removed whatever sense of decorum the child she'd known only a day before had. The scars that marred his face were a testament to what touching the Witch without her desire for the contact could mean... And yet he seemed to have no hesitation in him as he swept her up and pressed his lips to hers. Her Little Wolf had become bold - or possibly reckless.

Though what he shared with her was what she'd demanded of him, and for a time she was swept up in it. As his hands pressed against the soft satin of the bodice of her coat, and his lips pressed hungrily to her own, her mind slid effortlessly across his own. When he was so willing, it made the exercise almost too easy. She could have whatever memory she wanted - she could take and change and massage whatever she liked, and he would simply let it happen... Wonderous. Perhaps it wasn't him being bold or reckless. Perhaps Seren had just learned how best to please her.

The knowledge he gave at her beckoning was of a quality that had her much smaller form shuttering in his grasp. It was glorious. The death was so immense that it had shifted the geography of the planet and given them a Well with which to draw from. She could also sense his hesitation regarding the means they had used to bring it fruition. Yes. He had learned from their mistakes - and they would not repeat them. As she watched in his memories the war they'd wrought... An idea formed.

As his lips broke from her own, her arms still entangled at her waist, the wight lifted the hands she'd rested against his arms to gently rest at either side of his face, just as they had when he'd been returned to her in that cavern. She regarded him with calm eyes as she spoke, allowing him to keep her as close as he'd like while he was willing to give her such gifts.

"We will avoid the mistakes of the past. The gifts you will bring me will make those you brought her look pallid in comparison..."

 

[Seren]

Location: Cularin, Home​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

The mistakes of the Past.

The Young Wolf knew what it took to cause the pallid witch to be accepting of his touch. What he craved from the woman. What he needed was the sensation of her presence upon him. She was as oxygen to him - in this life and the next. Yet, in return, he had to make offerings at the altar of her majesty. Whether it be sacrifices of blood or fragments of might, he had to make every second of their union worth her while. Seren was more than happy to ensure that the White Witch was compensated for her allowing her Wolf these moments. But, all good things came to an end. And as the seconds rolled by, eventually, Seren's lips abandoned the woman's. And though there was a satisfaction alive in his tone, there was something more to his gaze. Something that would far differentiate the child she once cared for from the Wolf which held her close.

Ambition.

"I couldn't agree more." he began, acknowledging her with a nod. "The Galaxy will weep at the sound of your name. All shall love thee and despair." For but a moment he seemed satisfied at the idea. But she would find a glimmer of thought in his eyes. A look towards tomorrow. "I shall see you ageless. Undying. A task that we had almost achieved prior to my departure." He briefly looked away. A stray memory entered his mind that was hers for the taking - the revelation that all the blood in the Galaxy would only see this boon granted...to one. When his time would come, it would come. His Witch would remain eternal. Yet he would never see the end. Never see the culmination of an eternity's worth of Dominion. Or would he? "And I will stand at your side. Always."

His offhand graced her midsection, a testament to one of the many gifts he intended to lay at her feet. "There will be many which empower you. Many which we take and burn to make us Gods. Yet one will live. And in time, shall become the vessel by which I serve you evermore." And for the first time since she had met the Young Wolf, Seren was not asking. Nor pleading. Nor doing anything that implied that this desire was something up for discussion. The finality of his tone was absolute. Nothing would deter the Young Wolf from seeing the end with his beloved. Her sole "say" in the matter was if they "wasted" her blood in the process. No matter. He stepped closer, gracing her cheek with a touch. "But eternity can await another time. There is much work to do to make you Divine. How long until the next Moon?"

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Cularin
Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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She could see it in his eyes, like a tableau playing out in the theatre of her mind as his gaze became distant for a moment. With him so close, still holding her in the circle of his arms, she could almost feel the weight of the knowledge as he thought... only one. She knew it to be true, and the anguish that the thought may one day cause her was not yet a reality to her. Of course it would be her - and of course, he would deliver to her that power. Just as the willowy specter in his past was assured to receive the gift of immortality, so too was the woman in the cradle of his arms. They may not love her, as he said, but she would bring with her despair so vivid and dark that all the stars in the galaxy would shudder in her wake.

As his hand lowered to rest against her stomach she paused, her mind brought back from his thoughts so suddenly that it was staggering. Her eyes blinked slowly, dusky lashes brushing her cheeks as those infinitely dark pools of her eyes focussed on his once more. She could hear it in his voice, see it writ upon his face as he spoke, his face mere inches from her own. Everything about it was a challenge... The Little Wolf was staking a claim on something she had not agreed to give, and there would be no bartering with him. No negotiation. The spill of long, white hair across her chest came as her head tilted to the side, regarding him with silent interest.

He continued to speak, lifting a hand to brush her cheek, asking about the lunar cycle - but her mind had not followed with him just yet. Her own hands that rested against his cheeks rose, fingers gently gliding into his hairline at his temple before her fingers flexed, grabbing tightly two fistfuls of his hair as she drew herself in firmly to him, the line of her body pressed so tightly to his that it was painful. The hands in his hair drew his face down until each breath she took was a soft wash against his face. That's when she reached.

The Little Wolf had been a party to this magik being directed his way only once, and it was the same force that had held him fast when she'd given him the lightning strike pattern of scars that marred his face now. The searing pain that she could manifest in the mind was akin to the shattered lines on his face, crackling, sharp and seemingly random. She applied the full force of that now, the fingers twined in his hair becoming warm to the touch almost instantly as she poured that power from herself and into him. There would come a time when the power would not cost her as much as it did now, but for the time being, she could feel the drain on herself as she channeled all that raw pain through her grip on him directly into his head. Though the strain was great, her face remained calm and expressionless, her voice dark and low when she spoke next, "Do not presume, child, to lay claim to that which does not belong to you."

She held on for a moment longer before her grip lessened, and the pressure in his head receded, her power drawing back. The rapid fluttering of her heart in her chest and a small tremor in her hands as they loosened their grip in his hair were the only signs that the effort had cost her anything. She allowed him space, should he desire it, as she slid her fingers free from his hair and gently returned them to his shoulders. Her voice was still low as she spoke, but the darkness was no longer present, her tone conversational, "Time has made you bold, little one... It has also made you foolish."

 

[Seren]

Location: Home, Cularin
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

Howl.

The Young Wolf had made the mistake of presumption. Committed the utter folly of looking upon the incarnation of his beloved with the same eyes as what she could become. But the woman with whom he would corrupt Cularin was a far cry from his Jenmae. The decade which they had spent together, cultivating a bloody wonderland had not yet transpired. And as a result, the devotion which ran betwixt them did not exist. This much was apparent when the pallid woman drew him in - at first as if she were to appease one of his more base desires. The sting of her fingers in his locks was entralling, and as a result Seren lowered his guard for the briefest of moments. And that was more than enough for Jenmae to unleash utter havoc upon his mind.

Splintering. Searing. The agony ran hot into his skull until his eyes watered. Yet, as her raw might bit into his psyche, the Divinity at his fingertips reared back. He restrainted his instinct at the last second. Reflexes were overcome by devotion in the blink of an eye. And his offhand, which for a moment raised to address the digits in his hair, snapped away from the woman. A hurricane exploded forth from the man's wrist. A torrent of the mightiest winds ripped forth across the air, splintering and shattering a wide line into the arbors. For as long as she saw fit to punish the Young Wolf, the fury of his instincts wreaked havoc upon the wood.

Finally, when she released him, the sulfur of his eyes was gone. He looked upon her with that boundless, midnight stare that was her icon. The abyss of the divine stared back. "Time made me love. That folly will never repeat here." With thus said, Seren regarded the woman with a simple nod, as there was not much left to say beyond that. He strided past, shaking his head momentarily in an attempt to get his bearings once more. His mind was muddied after the assault, but there was no lasting harm done. And thankfully, no ragged mass of scars running atop his head to match his face.

With his sight now upon the destruction he had wreaked, his tone was just as conversational as hers. "How long until the next moon?" his inquiry remained unchanged, as would the work they would need to undertake. If nothing else, her reminder of which era he stood within would spurn him into action all the faster. For the death of all delusion would see hours of craving one's touch replaced with productivity. He would have his goddess again. But not now, not yet.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Cularin​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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He was changed, and he was... Exquisite. As she had coiled herself around him and poured all that pain into his mind, she could feel his own power swelling like a tide to meet her - rising to the hands that he had lifted to try and grip her own before he thrust his arm outward, sending the burst of energy forth that leveled the trees around them. What may have lasted a good deal longer was cut short as she released her hold on both his mind and his hair, her hands resting against his shoulders as he opened his eyes once more. Twin pools as dark as pitch and infinitely deeper stared down into her own, a perfectly matched pair as she stared up at him. She was grateful in that moment that her own eyes would reflect only his, hiding what would have been a modicum of surprise.

She didn't attempt to stop him as he stepped away from her, moving around her to step towards the devastation that he'd wrought at the behest of her momentary lesson. Her back remained to him as the wight considered what he'd said... There was no doubt in her mind that the boy she'd found in the forest those weeks before would have one day grown to mistake the spell she'd cast for devotion, if not love. How he'd reacted just now however, the crisp tone in his voice, the way he moved away from her... Something more than simple devotion was keeping the Little Wolf tethered to her.

"The next full moon is in three days time, Little One..." She turned slowly, regarding him as he stood looking over the forest that surrounded them. Her footsteps were soft, the hush of her leather-clad feet barely audible as she moved up behind him. Fingertips landed gently against his back, between his shoulder blades, and as she walked herself around him, they trailed across his back, around his shoulder and coming to rest against his chest as she stood before him once more. The whites of her eyes were slowly starting to bleed back in around the edges, and her voice was curious this time as she regarded him.

"You've shown me much, Little Wolf, now that you've returned... I want you to tell me, Seren, what it is that I was to you then." Her hand trailed down to his arm, her eyes following as her fingers trailed down. Keenly honed nailed scratched gently across the palm of his hand as she pressed her fingers into his palm, wrapping her hand around his and raising it slowly. Her eyes remained on his skin as she spoke next, her voice barely above a whisper, "Tell me who I was to allow you to get this close to me... Tell me who you are to have persuaded me to accept it."

 

[Seren]

Location: Home, Cularin
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

He tried to remember...

When the circumstances of the morrow were dire, requiring the Young Wolf to cast himself adrift into the past...it took every ounce of restraint to regard the pallid woman differently. For the witch of the present, the man she knew had only spent a few weeks' worth of time at her side. But for the man standing before her...for him, decades had passed since she had liberated him on Jamoura. Year upon year upon year. And over time, the glamour that she had placed over his eyes faded. Not for lack of power. Not for lack of control. But because the magick had been rendered frivolous by something far greater. Artificial devotion was mighty and could easily command the unwilling to do one's bidding.

But true devotion? Adoration? Love? That could never be replicated. And, once had, there would never be a need to. And, over the years, Seren had opened his soul to the White Witch. He craved her touch, not as a carnal reward for sacrificing his blood...but because he adored the mere sight of her. He felt confident in speaking the way he did - in claiming what he did - because they were first given and never taken. The Jenmae of the morrow belonged to him - in the same manner that he belonged to her. And upon setting foot in the past, he tried so hard to remember that the woman before him now was not his. Not yet. And, possibly, not ever.

As he stepped away, her voice reached his ears. Three days. Time aplenty to prepare for the first step in their journey. And whilst the Young Wolf attempted to collect himself, he felt her fingertips upon his spine. Her touch raked over his flesh as she stepped around him, culminating with her taking his hand. She wanted to know...He didn't want to say. He didn't want to mar the future - but to withhold this was to deny himself. Was to deny her. A sigh escaped him as the darkness began to ebb away from his vision. The whites of his eyes became visible, followed by the sulfur of his irises. "My name is Seren...Ophiro."

"Who you were to me...who I was..." he shook his head. "To put it simply, everything. Upon your head I placed the crown of my soul." his fingers gave hers a squeeze. "It is difficult to step away from that - a world where her and I were devoted one to another in that way - to a present where it has not occurred. Forgive my misstep."

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Cularin
Tag: [member="Seren"]

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She listened, her fingers held in his, her eyes bleeding in the same way his own did, slowly fading back to their rich, brown depths as he told her why it was that he was so familiar. No emotion or surprise was betrayed as he recounted why it was that he shared her last name - why he had spoken so surely about his intent with her person... It made sense though. Of course her little wolf would feel this way, if in the future she'd seen fit to allow him to get that close... She understood why he was confused.

... A thought.

Eyes widened as she turned on her heels, tugging at his hand for only an instant before she hurried towards their shared home. She was nearly running as she moved through the underbrush, the trees whipping passed her as she made for the massive cavern that was cut into the side of the hill before them.

Seren knew well the story behind his Mistress' home. She'd come to Cularin many years before, just a budding spell caster, still friends with the spirits that guided her journey... But she'd found the caves and everything had changed. She'd built herself a home in the massive cavern mouth and spent years turning the dark little cove into something truly wonderful. Between the simple creature comforts of a bed and somewhere to cook, she'd built herself a library of the darkest tomes she could steal, and she'd turned her back on what was traditional for her people... She perverted what was natural and right and became what she was now, and forever would be.

Speedy footfalls carried the woman within the mouth of the cavern, a simple wave of her fingers stirring the darkness that made all things, and causing the candles along the walls burst into soft, warm life. She moved to the rear of the massive space, to several low stone shelves that had been hewn into the rock. The specter knelt, planting one hand on the cold stone floor while the other moved smoothly along the spines of tomes that appeared to be older than the rocks that surrounded them. Finger tips came to rest along the spine of one specific book, the binding worn but a deep, russet red. She plucked the book from the shelf and sat back on her heels, allowing it to fall open into her waiting lap.

"... Here." One pointed nail landed against a page that was scribbled with beautifully intricate runes, all in the shape of what appeared to be a summoning circle. Her face raised to where she knew he'd be, standing at her back as he should be. Her features were beatific, the smallest of smiles making all that pale skin appear strangely perfect and serene. "We're going to need a lot of blood."

 

[Seren]

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]
Location: Home, Cularin

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She said nothing.

To say that the Young Wolf felt his stomach drop was an understatement. Regret settled in as an immediate consequence of divulging an unadulterated glimpse of what was. He should have left well enough alone - should have controlled himself better. Time was the furthest thing from linear - he knew this from experience - and thus the woman before him most certainly was not, and could not, be his Jenmae. The woman who had sent him back to presever a future where they succeeded...she was gone.

This was the reality that was now home. A reality where the Witch's touch abandoned his hand mere seconds after he spoke. If it were not for the tug and the sudden urgency in her footsteps, Seren would have remained rooted at the spot. However. It was exceedingly rare that he ever witnessed...excitement?...on the part of the Witch. And thus, pure curiosity was enough to overshadow the stone that had developed in his stomach. Though she did not sprint, her pace was as quick as the morning breeze.

And his long strides were right behind her, every step of the way.

In time, they returned to the home that Jenmae had erected for herself on Cularin. It was only then that their pace slowed to a conclusion and the mistress began to rummage throughout her collection. She stopped when the gem she was hunting for was found - a tome through which she immediately began to rummage. Settling upon the page in question, she then turned the book over for Seren to inspect. He stepped forward and immediately identified the page as a summoning circle. Blood. They would need tonnes of blood.

"And in three days' time. Hmm."

Raising his hand, his fingers thoughtfully passed through his facial hair for a few moments. "I surmise I can lay a trap for some do-gooders. The trademark distress call gone awry. How many bodies would you think we need?" The answer to this would dictate just how devious his plan would become.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Cularin
Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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He has stood, just as she had known he would, just behind has as she'd turned. The book was hastily accepted from her grasp as he hoisted it to read what was scrawled upon the pages. He was correct - though the boy who may have been naive to such things was long gone, and it made sense that the man before her would know all to well what the book held. With a gentle nod she heard his plan, and she turned to seat herself on the cavern floor, her legs tucked neatly up beneath her as she regarded him, obviously considering what he suggested.

They'd need a number that was significant, certainly. Her gaze became somewhat unfocused as she spoke next, her hands moving forward to gently brush the tips of her nails along the fabric of his pants that covered the calve closest to her. It seemed that she did so without thinking as she mused upon his plans. "Emptying the vessel will be simple work... Something that won't cause enough damage to make it useless. But to bring her back?"

All at once she was focused again, deep russet eyes rose to find his own, seemingly unaware that her hand lay flat against his leg now as she gazed up at him. "We'd need enough to redraw the circle thrice over at least... A dozen perhaps, maybe more?" The excitement was palpable in her tone - though none would recognize it save herself and the man who stood before her now. The thought of making what she'd seen when he's kissed her a reality was enough to make her heart flutter like a winged creature within her chest.

"If you could collect the materials needed, I could find us somewhere suitable to make this happen - I know it." Carefully she pushed herself up to her knees, her hands rising as she reached for his own. His palms alone dwarfed her tiny fingers, but she took his hands in her own regardless. Her voice was deadly still now, all inflection gone as she stared up at him, those pit-like orbs unblinking as they gaze into his eyes. "Can you do it?"

 

[Seren]

But to bring her back?

He had followed the Witch's plan up until that moment. There was something - or someone - that she had wanted to summon. In accordance with their plans, summoning was quite literally an integral part of securing her godhood. However...when she uttered that simple, three-letter word, the Wolf froze. He almost did not notice her presence upon his leg. He almost lost the words which formed and fell from those pallid lips he adored so much. His fingers tightened about the body of the tome, almost in disbelief.

Seren dared not to question it, but simply bobbed his head up and down in understanding. It mattered not if she required ten thousand bodies - for this ritual, he would not fail. For this effort, above all others, he would see to it that the Witch had everything that she desired. Thankfully enough, she required only a dozen bodies. That...far outstripped the average patrol team - but Seren was resourceful. Already a handful of plans were worming together in his mind, with the best one winning out in just a few moments.

Bouncers were quite literally a dime a dozen, and they were but a few hours' jump away from the Core. He could pay a dozen off to join him for the "opening" of a new club offworld. They'd have their sacrifices in no time flat. "By your leave, I will procure all we need at once. This, I can do without fail." Between the excitement he could feel in her and the longing burning within his soul, this was one ritual that would be secured in no time flat.

All she had to do was say go.

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

If he could get her what was needed, she could give him the gift he longed for above all others... She could give him her.

Carefully lifting herself from the ground, using the hands she held within her own to hoist her small form, the Witch stood, arranging her feet beneath her to stand straight as she always did. She slid her hands from around his and gently plucked the volume from the hand that held it, noting that he clutched it a bit tighter than was likely good for a book that old... They would need those pages, after all.

Turning, the specter calmly strode towards the bed that lay nestled against the back wall of the cavern, sliding down to sit on the edge as her eyes poured over the pages once more, studying in detail the summing circle that had been writ there. It was complex, to be certain... And if he could get her what was needed she'd still have to take her time practicing the patterns. Three days time until the moon was full and they could make their attempt... Three days time until what she had built in herself could be destroyed and replaced.

"If you believe you can have what is required, then I will ensure that upon your return we will be ready to begin." There was a soft snap as she closed the book in her lap, laying it against her thighs as she leaned back a touch, resting her weight on one of her hands as the other rested across the worn cover of the tome.

She sat there in silence for a time, her face calm and her eyes staring out towards the warm glow of the sun as it streamed through the canopy high above the mouth of the cave they called home. Her mind had wondered back to the visions he'd shared with her - back to the world soaked in blood and the Well they'd built together. Slowly she returned to herself as she turned her face towards him, her voice small as she lifted her hand from where it lay upon the book and motioned for him to go.

"Bring them to me, Little Wolf. Bring me what we need and I will deliver to you what it is you desire above all else."

 

[Seren]

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

Location: Home, Cularin​

---

She need not say another word.

When the tome was removed from his grasp and her promise uttered, the Wolf paused only to render a respectful nod of his head. He then turned on his heel and bounded out of her presence. The Force itself seeped into his bones, bearing his form faster than he had ever run before. Faster than any battleground. Faster than any retreat. The thought of reclaiming the one that he adored beyond words was so enticing that he would spare no sum of effort in bringing it to fruition. Every second was his adversary, for only a mere seventy-two hours was between him and the opportunity to have his partner returned. He would not waste a single moment.

Before even a handful of minutes had rushed by, Seren had boarded his vessel and composed a hasty message upon the HoloNet. The trap was laid - a promise of credits and the opportunity to bed loose, exotic women was given. By the time his vessel cut through the atmosphere, there were already a number of responses. Jenmae would not have to wait long - neither version of her would. In fact, twelve full hours remained when Cularin above rumbled with the din of engines. His vessel, along with three others, came to rest upon the surface once more. Yet the men who emerged lacked all illusions of free will - for the Witch had educated her Wolf better than to leave any such thing as resistance as a factor.

With plenty of time to spare, Seren returned to their Home with thirteen men in tow. Bewitched were they. Enthralled to the sound of his voice. Every whim was their command at this point. "The sacrifices are ready." he announced. "How can I help prepare?"

Her wish was his command.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

The Wolf's exit had been swift, as she'd asked - and she had not wasted her time.

Upon his arrival back on Cularin, her companion would scent what she had been busy with like a perfume in the air. His paramour had sent him for blood, and he would return to it. Where once there had been a utilitarian home built for the pair beneath the rocky outcropping set inside the hill, now there was an alter, and his Mistress awaited him there.

As the party approached he would be cause for hesitate, as she appeared to him much changed from when he'd left days before. Her normal attire, all rich, heavy fabrics, often tight fitting and all in earthen tones had been discarded in favour of a simple, white shift dress. It was a bland garment, fitting her poorly as it had been made to, leaving much of her arms and legs bare. Long white tresses had been bound at the nape of her neck, and her feet were also bare against the cold stone floor, and the cause for it would become apparent as they grew closer.

From her knees down the witch was bathed in blood. There were deep scrapes in her knees and small smears of blood around the hips of the shift would show that her hands were likely in a similar state. Clutched in one hand was a rock, its surface soaked in gore, blood and much thicker things caked to it in layers, the most recent one still fresh enough to drip thickly onto the cavern floor. There were small flecks of blood splatter across her cheeks, though none seemed to have made it onto the dress, perhaps suggesting she'd only recently put it on.

When her Wolf called to her she lifted a hand, motioning for him to halt as she turned eyes from the group he'd returned with to the cavern floor before them. It was hard to see in the looming darkness of the cave, but there was something gouged into the stone beneath them. With a soft wave of her hand she let a bit of her power sweep across the edges of the cave, hundreds of tiny flames igniting as the candles she'd set about revealed to their guests how she'd kept herself busy with the time she'd been given.

Carved deep into the rock were intricate set of circles, all crossed with lines and runes that would draw power to the centre. Each jagged cut into the earth was filled to the brim with viscous dark liquid that the Wolf would know to be blood, all except the centre most circle, and twelve lines from the edges that would feed into it. There were white lines on the rock that were not carved quite so deeply that would show her early attempts at creating the pattern - her mastery of the final product a testament to hours spent crawling along the cavern floor and studying the text. In the far corner of the cave lay the countless tiny bodies of whatever the demon was able to lay her hands on to fill the circles... It appeared that no form of fauna from the neighboring jungle had been spared in her efforts to fill the reservoirs.

After long moments spent using the candles light to examine her handy-work, Jenmae turned to look at [member="Seren"] once more. With him standing so close he would see a few small smudges of animal blood where she'd wiped stray wisps of her hair back from her eyes. "We're nearly ready... Tell me who you've brought, and I'll tell you what more I require from you before we begin."

 

[Seren]

In his haste to return, the metallic scent was almost lost upon him.

Admittedly, the Wolf had allowed a horde of butterflies to take root in the pit of his stomach. The mere thought of having the future collide with the present once more was enough to thunder his heart. However, as he and his line of thralls descended into the earth, it soon became apparent that a halt was necessary. Though Seren would have loved nothing more than to stand before the Witch - at her side - to do so would have soiled her monumental efforts. Amidst the dim light which filtered in behind them, it was difficult to see the full nature of her work.

Yet, as Seren awakened his sight once more, he began to appreciate the Witch's handiwork.

Before him laid the circle from the tone. Intricately cut into the floor of their newfound home. Channels ran betwixt and between, which would ferry the blood from those souls he had enraptured. However, what was most striking about the display was the appearance of Jenmae herself. As she dominated his vision, the divine contradiction of her aesthetic became apparent. At first, it would have appeared at nothing was out of place - save for the fact that she chose a flawlessly white dress that nearly mirrored her pallid skin.

This was a far cry from her usual attire - but it was a necessary change for the ritual.

Her cheeks were gently flecked with blood and her hair was bound back. Yet aside from these, there was not much out of place...until one got to her exposed knees. She was absolutely caked in blood - but this was not surprising given the masterpiece she had wrought around them. The Wolf spoke no words as his amber gaze met hers, and he raised his hand when Jenmae indicated for him to cease his movements. At once, the Thirteen came to a precise stop behind their liege, and they all bore witness to her power.

With but the simplest motion of her hand, dozens upon dozens of candles erupted with light. The true mastery of her efforts was then revealed to them all to see. With this light, Seren blinked twice and returned to his normal vision - as it wouldn't be necessary to expend strength in the moment. Then, before the beginning, a question. "Men of the inner core. Six are combat-wounded veterans, servants of the former Republic and the former Galactic Alliance. Six are cartel enforcers - experienced, hired muscle. And one is a fresh-faced lad who tried to rob the wrong Wolf."

He took a step forward, remaining outside of her candles and the circle. "Guide me. Tell me what must be done."

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

As he introduced the men he'd collected, blood soaked feet began to pad softly along the stone floor towards them.

The Witch was a head shorter than most of the strangers that her Wolf had collected, so as she wandered through their ranks she would weave in and out of [member="Seren"]'s view. Palms soaked in the same gore that had bathed her legs and splattered across her face gently slid across arms and chests, her eyes peering into the vacant faces of each of the men who had come to Cularin to aid, albeit unwillingly, their mission. As she came to the final boy in the line of men, she paused. "A fresh-faced lad who tired to rob the wrong Wolf..." Her voice was soft as she repeated what Seren had told her, and both her hands rose to gently trace fingers over the full cheeks of the boy who was barely older than a child. She was careful not to leave any trace of the blood that coated her own skin upon the boys, regarding him for long moments before her hands dropped to her sides and turned back to her companion.

"You've done well," she stated, as she strode back between their small army of captives, coming to a rest before him. "We'll need them all - but we'll start with the older ones." Carefully brushing passed him, her fingers brushing his own for only a moment to express her pleasure with what he'd returned with, she padded back to the circle of candles and moved to stand before one of the dozen empty troughs that led to the centre design. "Have them kneel at each of the twelve points around the circle, and give them blades if they don't carry one already."

With careful, measured steps, taking her time as her eyes fell to the floor and remained there, the white-haired siren moved carefully to the centre of the pattern she'd created. As she progressed, stepping gingerly over each of the blood filled pits she'd made, she spoke to him as well, lifting one hand to motion that he should follow. "You'll come with me, and bring that hatchet of yours." She paused as she glanced up, nearly having reached her destination near the middle of all that blood, gently shimmering in the lights the candles through about the cavern. "If you were still able to use your claws it may have been easier... But we'll make due with what we have."

Stepping into the central ring, where the gouges into the rock still lay bare and stark white from where she'd dug them hours before, Jenmae stood and turned to face him fully, waiting patiently for him to follow her instructions.

 

[Seren]

As she willed it, so was it done.

In the beginning, the Wolf was steadfast as the Witch made her assessment. Her footsteps were gentle upon the stone floor, yet the blood which caked her feet announced each and every motion. Her height made it so that she moved in and out of his direct line of sight as she moved. However, it was not difficult to ascertain what she was up to. Finally, she emerged and announced her satisfaction with the sacrifices that had been chosen. And with that satisfaction came direction. Seren nodded to his partner and immediately began to carry out her order.

The veterans themselves always carried arms of some sort on their person. As a result, getting those six situated was the swiftest and the easiest. They were the elders, and thus he made certain to take his time in guiding them to their appointed places. He even took a moment to aide one whose knees howled against the motion of kneeling - for it would not do for the limits of the body to become apparent during the ritual. Thus, with the first six armed and knelt, Seren turned to the next batch.

These were far easier to situate, but it took some fishing about his utility belt to arm them. All manner and length of knife were bestowed upon them before they, too, took their places within the circles. With thus completed, the snap of Seren's fingers were a sharp contrast to the relative quiet of the space. Darkness erupted into being and swirled about his dominant hand before weight was deposited in his palm. The shadows fled almost as quickly as they came, leaving his hatchet in their wake.

Thus, Seren took his place at Jenmae's side. "Done." he breathed, before motioning his chin towards the Thirteenth. "And the boy?"

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

As he quickened to do as she'd bid, the specter took her time to situate herself.

She knew without looking that her paramour would take care of what was needed... As she'd strolled through their ranks she'd seen the dull glint in their eyes that told of minds that were no longer their own. It would be simple for the Wolf to get them to where they were needed, and she took the time required to settle herself as the text had instructed.

Bloodied knees, already raw from the hours she'd spent crawling along the stone floor, collided with a dull thud against the floor. Gently she hiked the simple, silken shift up above her knees to allow herself to sit, her legs folded below her. Eyes slid closed as she arranged her hands to lay across her lap, and she focused in on her breathing. Already the blood in the deep lines around her was starting to become rank... It had taken her nearly a day to fill the design as was needed - but the last step would not take them so long.

It took him no more than a few minutes to do what was needed, but those seconds dragged on in her mind as she carefully played over in her mind what would be needed.

There was a place beyond time, a place beyond life, one where there was a piece of herself that would be lost. To retrieve it she would need to send all that she was now, all that she could possibly become, in an attempt to bring it back. It would cost them blood... But it would cost her everything. Based on what she'd read, she would need to have her mind honed on what it was she wanted to bring back when she arrived - deviation could mean all would be lost.

Her form started as he spoke, so close to her now, the weight of the hatchet she'd requested hefted in his hand. There was something in her eyes as she gazed up at him, something he'd never seen from this version of the Witch. Her arms extended upwards as she took his free hand and gently pulled him down to kneel beside her. She guided him to kneel behind her as she rearranged her legs to stretch out before her, and gently laid her weight back against his chest. Slowly she guided his arms around her to encircle her, letting her own hands rest atop his as they sat there together for a moment in silence.

"You'll need the boy when all is done..." Her face rose, her eyes scanning the mouth of the cavern for long moments as she watched the glow of the moon dance across the distant, gently swaying grass as it faded into the dense tree-line. A sigh escaped her lips as her hands gently squeezed his own, and he would be able to feel the soft tremble there. His Witch was scared, though none but him may have seen it.

"When the moon is high, you'll instruct the men to open their wrists and fill the troughs. Once the blood reaches the inner circle, you'll use that hatchet to open my throat." She remained silent for a time following that, her eyes still focused on the distant light that bathed the ground beyond the candle's flickering light. "I'll have until the blood mixes and fills the inner circle to find her and bring her here to you..." Carefully she turned her face up, the dancing orange glow from the candles bringing that doubt in her eyes to stark relief.

"If she comes back to you, she'll need the boy - and she'll need you."