Post by ʝᴜɴᴏ - ✿ on Aug 1, 2017 14:41:49 GMT
1935 - Germany
“Alphonse, what have you done?!”The fire…it burned beautifully to him. The screams of terror upon the inferno reaching its most destructive form did little to sway his heart from displaying his pride. Alphonse turned to his sister, Josephine, seeing the mixture of anger and anguish into one. She turned to the blaze again that ate away at their ancestral home. She heard what suffered inside, recognizing the distinct howls of pain. Macabre as it may be, she knew it was her parents and her grandparents snatched away from her by the ill-natured actions of her older brother. Josephine withheld tears, and shot an appalled look to her brother.
Alphonse chuckled darkly, a vocalization of clear senselessness. He brought his hands out, as a maestro would to his orchestra. He found beauty in the roaring flames, a painting of death and a song of suffering. His hands were open, feeling the warmth, but he then closed them.
“Cinders, my sister,” he started, “I have reduced them all to the cinders. These fools were holding back our family with their pitiful beliefs. We should stray away from our ancestors, they say while in the house that our forebears built for us!”
Alongside his enjoyment of the pyre, his body trembled with rage that he could barely hold back, “but no more, Josephine, no more. I have burned away the shackles that bond us to a life of mediocracy.”
He shifted to his sister, taking her hands into his. She didn’t move away, partly due to the shock of his words and the reality that she now existed in. “We can now thrive,” he said, elated at the prospect, “we may now conquer the world that lies before us! We can continue what our ancestors have done and evolve past what they were.”
Josephine shook her head, tears starting to well in her eyes, “you did all of this for the future?”
“Yes!” Alphonse cried proudly, “I did it for you! Josephine, one day, you will bring true beauty into this world! You will be the Mother of Gods!”
With that, she tore herself from her brother’s grasp, “you are mad!” Josephine yelled. She began to pound on his chest, futile as it may be, yet she wanted to deliver the message. Her fists upon his chest became weaker as the grief of her family’s death started to settle into her. She fell to the ground, weakened by the flood of emotions. All she could do was raise her to wake her former home fall into itself.
“I am mad?” Alphonse spoke lowly after a long moment of silence.
“Yes, you have gone mad,” Josephine answered, “you believe that our ancestors would have wanted this? So warped is your mind by mere legends that you would resort to this? You may stand here, my brother, but your mind has definitely left this world.”
She stood up again, despite her body almost refusing not to do so, “you brought ruin to the only thing that you had. I’ve always known you to be selfish, Alphonse. You used to cry when you would not get your way even as you were well above the age to do so. Is this what your mind came to?”
Alphonse remained silent the whole while as Josephine walked towards the flames, “and you say that I’ll become the Mother of Gods? Blasphemy, hypocrisy, Alphonse! You speak of freeing us when all you have done is free yourself to your lunacy! Now, you will bind me to your own fascinations!”
Josephine moved around to turn her full anger to her brother, but Alphonse had approached her. He had taken her head into his hand, not with love nor compassion. Josephine felt the mercy in her brother fade in his grip as his fingers threatened to puncture her skull. She screamed loudly as Alphonse, a man now of great strength, dragged her towards the flames. She kicked and yelled, trying her damnedest to escape what she started to see as her execution. When all was lost, the thought settling that she was not strong enough to win, she cried out.
Not in sadness, however.
“You may send me to my death, but I will haunt you! I will gain the strength of our parents and our forebears! I curse you to a fate more gruesome than mine. I hope your dreams burn out in a flame worse than this!”
Alphonse smashed her head against the stone wall, staining it with her blood. She persisted.
“I curse you to suffering!”
Alphonse hit her again, but she persisted.
“When you die, I hope you die screaming!”
Alphonse was satisfied with the damage he wrought. Her teeth had fallen out of her head, he felt the looseness of her eye again his palm. The warmth of her blood fought against the embrace of the German cold.
“I will bring a plague upon your life, your legacy…your children!”
He lifted her up once more, but his intention was different. With tears running down his face, he hurled his sister into the fire.
And yet, she persisted.
“My brother-“ she was far too weak now to truly scream out, “I will bring misfortune to everything you love and you do. For you need to truly pay for what you have done.”
Her brother watched the fire start to reach for her, but he listened on to her words.
“And when we see you in the afterlife, we will tear you apart!” a final howl before Josephine fell into the flames, too hurt to stand anymore. Her final words left their impact on Alphonse as he stepped away, his hand covering his mouth. Turning his back, he started on his way away from the far-off building, and walked on to his new life.
Alphonse von Licht always remembered his sister’s words.
⚴
“Aurora.”
She worked on war itself in her works, using its elements to create another excellent piece. Stretched among the walls were the illustrious match that Aurora and Sophie had earlier in the year. It was one that resulted in Sophie’s loss, ending her pipe dream of becoming Phoenix Wrestling’s Rebirth Champion. More so, her defeat gave her a new outlook on her skill. She was still a fledgling, which she displayed in Aurora holding a pale bird ever-so-delicately. Closer inspection shows that the bird is struggling to free themselves, but to no avail. As the camera pans out, more of the painting comes into view. Sophie depicted Aurora as the goddess she is, with her clothing flowing and dusky wings encroaching around the bird.
“You said yes.”
Sophie continues to complete the other side of the piece while she speaks. Craning her hand over, she meticulously collected a new color to add to the wall. There is some time between her words, as her focus seems fit on adding to her artwork. She does pause, only proving her shift in attention by light hand gestures.
“I’ve been working on this for months, just as I’ve been waiting for this very moment.”
She paused for a beat.
“I have been wanting this rematch since the end of the first. There’s this-“ she pauses, “this insatiable need to come back to an unanswered question. To the audience and some speculators, they may believe that our match did not have a complete resolution. There were awkward circumstances, the time limit, and the stipulation of the contest, and that makes controversy. I don’t see that, because we both knew what would happen. Now, do you believe that you defeated me or do you believe you escaped me?”
“My personal belief is that Aurora Jansen, on that night, came close to seeming…mortal,” she snickered lowly, taking a moment to paint some more.
“It wasn’t until she fell to something funky that she appeared that way to the masses.”
“I cried,” Sophie said, lowly and drearily.
“Yet, it birthed a new-found vision for me. With all my affairs in other places, why make the notion to come here? People thought I was too busy, but no, I’m never too busy for someone I love. A message here and a meeting there, and here we are. We both know, Aurora, that this is a match not based in any remnant of malice. It’s wrapped in love, but there’s an ounce of something else.”
“Lust.”
“That word means a lot to everyone that hears it. For me and for you, we know what I mean,” Sophie turned her head somewhat, showing a minor glimpse of her bright eyes. Additionally, her smile peeked out from under the long strands of her hair.
“In the world, we gain experience from fighting people of high caliber. Aurora, you’re the best, my favorite. I’ve always wanted to fight you again, and again. I want us to continue this dance until one of us burns up in the sun, but then I realized something.”
The camera began to crawl backward, revealing the details of what Sophie were working on. It was a mural of her, standing high in a sea of chaos. The painting of the youngest Kaiser displays serenity amidst everything, as she spreads her arms out. Radiating the essence of divinity, yet tainted by some horrific element, Sophie El stands as a higher power, but one that lacks the capacities of old.
“In years of old, the act of devouring your fellow man came way to granting the consumer power. They could fuse together the best qualities of the meal and their own into an agglomeration of something powerful.”
“I have been hungry for so long.”
“Names here have been simple treats. Mason Daniels was one. I remember Veronica Valiant’s scent oh-so-well. Even my darling wife, my precious little bird, Anastasia, was a meal at one point in her life. I stayed hungry, because I am gluttonous. I am selfish, and I want to feed on all the strong in the world. Each new meal that I intake will allow me to grow stronger and return to who I was originally. For I was a god among men, I was someone that no one could stop!”
Sophie stepped away briskly from the wall, allowing the camera to capture the complete essence of her painting. Aurora Jansen held the bird in her hands, the Sophie of Old. As the painting spanned back, it revealed each part of what Sophie has worked on. As dominant as Aurora was, she stood among the torrent of chaos herself. Sophie had depicted herself not as just a higher power, but as the devourer of worlds. For as Aurora, the godly sovereign stood triumphant over the bird, being able to capture it, she had to note its lack of wings. Blood ran down her hands. Had she plucked the wings to stop the bird from flying away from her grasp? Sophie’s energy elevated to a crescendo as she threw out her arms passionately.
“I am the Bird of Hermes!” she cried out, sending her proclamation all around the room, “and I have devoured my own wings!”
Once again, she took a moment to let the words sit while she brought her own arms around herself.
“I have done it to make myself…tame.”
Finer details showed that the monolithic Sophie upon the wall reached out for Aurora with a commanding point. Tendrils of black maneuvered softly around Aurora’s limbs, creeping slowly to a more vicious hold. Behind Aurora stood a gate of oblivion, a monster of colossal proportions. Rows upon rows of teeth threatened to tear into Aurora, despite all the beauty in her confidence. The painter lowered her arms to gaze up at the impending fate of the illustrated Aurora, stricken with unconcealed awe.
“No longer shall I keep myself tame,” she began, “for before me lies the most succulent and beautiful meal of them all. Aurora, my guiding light, are a gourmet meal, the main course. I was far too weak and shy to do so before, but now things have changed.”
“If I am to regain my wings, and fly high above all else, then I must eat you.”
“We will dance a tremendous dance, but it is simple foreplay before the final meal.”
⚴
1977 - Germany
The words of Mikael von Licht came angrily to his eldest brother. Leon stood lonesome in the bedroom of his father, his head turned to the ground. Mikael, in all his fifteen years on the earth, had never seen so much bloodshed. The walls above his father’s bed were painted crimson, while the white sheets of his father’s bed became a gradient of the natural colors. Mikael saw his father, Alphonse, lying on his side, breath flowed out no longer.
Leon rose his head finally, acknowledging his brother’s horrified expression. Mikael’s horror grew when he saw the growing red eyes of his eldest brother. Furthermore, a smile dawned on his face, bloodied from the earlier battle. Blood dripped from his fists, and Mikael could not tell if it was his or his father’s. Leon started to move in his direction. Mikael stumbled back into the wall, his body moving on instinct, but burdened by fear. When Leon loomed over Mikael, the latter naturally assumed that his brother had been lost to the Madness finally.
He did not cower, for if he were to die here, he would stare deeply into the red eyes of his murderer. Soon enough, a hand came before him, not looking to destroy. Leon wanted to help his brother off the ground. Despite the blood, Mikael took his hand, confused beyond anything else. Leon jerked his head to motion Mikael down the hallway.
He informed his younger brother of what he did, “I have freed us from the man who would kill us…like he killed our mother.”
Mikael couldn’t bear to process his words.
“We need to take Gerrald and Clarissa and leave this place.”
“Why?” Mikael asked, to which Leon shook his head.
“I must rid of this place entirely.”
“No, Leon, I’m asking you why you killed our father. I don’t understand—“
Leon rested his hand on his shoulder, “one day, you’ll understand that our father did not have love for us. He hailed us as his masterpieces. However, this was a title of selfish nature, not of pride. We were nothing but tools for him. We would have resisted, and he would have disposed of us.”
After the explanation, Leon went on his way, telling Mikael again to retrieve his younger siblings.
Mikael followed his brother’s orders, but he couldn’t help but to look back into the room.
For a second, as perhaps a mirage, Mikael saw his father shoot him a glare with scarlet red eyes.
They burned like the fire that Leon set to the home.
⚴
December 23rd, 1994 – Paradise, Canada
The little girl had come as a surprise to Maribel and Leon both. A revisit to the place where they confessed each other’s love, a small pub in Russia, resulted in a steamy night. Later, Maribel found out that she was pregnant once more. When Peyton was born, Leon thought that Maribel would refuse to bear any more children. She had mothered more than both of their mothers have. Six of them now she brought into this world. All throughout the pregnancy, Maribel went about things differently. She dotted over the girl even before she was born, even deciding on a name at once after she found out the gender.
She refused to tell Leon the name she has selected, and insisted that he would have to abide by her demand. Leon, naturally, found himself fascinated with why Maribel acted the way she did towards this child. Neither of the times when the first of both genders was born that Maribel pranced around, bubbling with pride. Damian, the first born, Maribel hailed as her beautiful baby boy, but she did not bring any fanfare to the matter. It might have been due to how busy she was still, despite her leaving the business on maternal leave. Asher, despite her ill-fated existence, did not bring the warmth that a mother has towards her first daughter either.
What made this girl so special?
When the doctors handed Maribel the baby, Leon hovered by. Elated, yes, but he kept on with his analysis. Maribel held the girl close, tears starting to flood her eyes. The image sent a small chill down Leon’s spine, as Maribel never cried at any of her children’s birth. Here, at this moment, she couldn’t contain herself.
“Leon,” she managed to say through the tears, “I have become--“
Maribel stopped to collect herself. Leon expected something far different than what she said as she rose her head to stare him.
“I have become the Mother of Gods.”
Leon’s heart stopped, it felt like. An immense gravity took hold of him, causing him to step entirely back. Maribel’s smile was nigh-wicked when she elicited those words. She held the baby close to herself, protecting her with all her might. Leon’s fear widened his eyes and took control of his body. Those were words that he heard his father speak of to Clarissa. And yet, disregarding his resistance to do so, he moved inward to get the first glimpse of Maribel’s precious baby girl.
Maribel showed him the distinct difference and the reason why she brimmed with intense pride through the nine months.
There, in Maribel’s eyes, lied a girl born with…scarlet red eyes.
“I can finally tell you her name,” Maribel said, “she will be the Queen of Gods.”
Leon couldn’t help but stiffen up, Maribel’s words scared her.
“Her name will be Juno von Licht, and she will rule the world one day, my Kaiser.”
