Post by JR on Nov 26, 2015 1:19:39 GMT -8
Characters: Alice Clare & Abaddon
Summary: Abaddon decides that in the wake of Ophelia's death, the time has come for Alice to make the last steps towards gaining her worth for walking beside him for all time. Will it work?
Triggers: Death, violence.
Summary: Abaddon decides that in the wake of Ophelia's death, the time has come for Alice to make the last steps towards gaining her worth for walking beside him for all time. Will it work?
Triggers: Death, violence.
one reaI bad man [2:12 A.M.]: The bronzed gargoyle headed tub with demonic taloned feet sat in the center of living room area, and red chalk was used to write ritualistic circle into the hardwood floor of the blackhouse. Ubiquitous candles of all shapes, sizes, and hues were aligned near the walls, hundreds of flicking yellow tongues that hung off wick's edge and riding in a malshaped ocean of multi-colored wax. The temperature in the room was significant and not from all those dancing lights alone, but the energy that filled the room was thick and electric. Chains hung from the ceiling with heavy hooks, each of them plunge into a different appendage from the estranged relative of Alice, the girl having passed out from the shock and pain moments ago. Blood dripped from the hanging lass and fell into the clear waters of the tub, staining it in clouds of misty red that stretched and thinned out through the tub, casting it in a pinkish hue. Abaddon wore only black-satin pants that hung all the way down to the tops of his feet and fit right below the abdomen but above his pelvis, hanging at hips. Ceremonial dagger with bone inlaid hilt was held in his left hand while right hand lifted up to press against the girl's side and give her a push, suspending witch swinging a little. He gave another light push to get a circular curve to the back and forth sway while tongue clucked a toneless tune against the inside of his cheek. Strings of summoning magic applied to pull and pluck, burrowing underneath her skin like an unscratchable itch that could only be soothed by moving in the direction of Abaddon.. no matter where she was. <done>
wrecked ships [2:26 A.M.]: Just a little rush, babe. The feeling came out of nowhere, there in the middle of the Argosy while she was helping a long-time customer, and Council member. It was so overwhelming that Alice actually cried out, dropping the book in her hand as she took a blind step back and pressed herself against a low shelf. Every atom that made up Alice Clare suddenly was screaming Abaddon's name so loudly in her head. Wild eyes flashed open, focusing on the first thing she saw, which was the middle-aged Avery witch waving a frantic hand in front of Alice's confused face. "What? No. No, I'm well. I've .. I've got to go. My .. my granddad, he'll assist you," her voice was a breathless thing, and she seemed to have forgotten that Charles was upstairs in the apartment rather than down in the shop, or maybe she didn't give a flying wank about it. Alice pushed away from the fire witch -- just another notch on the long list of offenses between these two frenemy families -- and off she went. Bursting past the double doors and onto the street crowded with holiday shoppers. It wasn't particularly chilly, but it wasn't that warm either. She left her coat inside, forgot she even had a coat, in the frenzied need to get to where her man was. But she barely felt the cold in the air on her bare arms, and when it went even colder when she finally stopped running through the crowds and found a place where she could easily disappear into the shadows, she didn't feel that either. The fast shadow travel spilled her out into their kitchen. Alice barely gave a moment's pause, and the soles of her shoes took her through the house. "Abaddon!," her voice rose up, it's octave nearing hysterics -- simply because she might go crazy if he wasn't where she thought he might be. There, she turned into the living room and the relief that she felt when she laid eyes on him was a staggering thing that sagged Alice into the doorframe that she clutched to keep to her feet. All she could do, really, was stare at him while she caught her breath. Our girl? A white short sleeved blouse was worn; buttoned all the way to the throat in an attempt to mask some of the bruises that lined her skin where Abaddon had little care with her flesh. It was worn beneath a jumper style dress, dark gray with a thin red plaid pattern over top it. Oh so very school girl with it's tight bodice that molded over her breasts before the high waist belled out into a pleated skirt. She wore opaque black tights, and her feet tucked into t-strapped heels. Exactly the sort of thing that Charles would expect to see her wearing for working at the shop, and in these trying moments? Pretense was everything. There was even a little red bowtie at her throat, and a matching band holding back golden strands from falling into her face. -d-
one reaI bad man [2:48 A.M.]: There she was. She emerged from shadow and face wore the grin like most people wore their skin. The infinite amusement in his dark world, never ceasing to entertain the ancient monster. He glided instantly towards her with arms out, not taking a moment to relish her outfit. "There you are." Warmly released and a softening to that face that lowered to hers, offering the bite of beard before th kiss of his mouth arms ensnaring her by the waist and pulling her up and in. Physique rocking back on bare feet and towing the girl back towards the tub and through the energy barrier of the magic circle he inscribed into the floorboards. "This has been long overdue, and in the wake of your sister's passing... all the more reason to take the next step to immortality, no?" He murmured and cooed, nuzzling handsome face against her cheek and sifting face into the crook of her neck. Teeth finding the edge of that bow that she wore around her neck. Material found itself pinched, the skin beneath too, in the monster's jaws and he tugged at the red ribbon, meaning to unravel it so bare flesh was unhindered to his mouth's wants. Shuffling footfalls never ceasing while hand with blade hung at her hip, the opposite five sliding back around and drawing up that skirt. Bare ass was the intended target to sweeping limb, laying a loud smack to pert rear before taking cheek in a vise like clench from the dragon's claw. The girl that swung above now moaned some, Abaddon's magic slithering and trickling against her senses drawing her from the pleasant coma to the horrifying reality. <done>
wrecked ships [2:56 A.M.]: A hand snaked it's way up to her covered chest, where she scratched at the swell of her breasts beneath it while Abaddon came closer and closer. Every step brought his scent deeper into her senses and Alice groaned a little -- a thing he'd hear so well with the way he dipped his face in and found her mouth. That same hand darted up, wrapping behind his neck as she came up onto the toes of her kitten heels. He brought her up even higher with the tug about her waist that plied her front to his, and surrounded her in magic and heat. She chewed on his mouth as he moved them closer to the middle of the room and through the buzzing energy of his circle. It was that shift, that change in the air that pulled Alice's mouth from his and had her really taking a look about the room for the first time. The tub. The tub was in the living room. Her head canted back, and there, above it, there was the witch with Donovan blood swimming in her body. Bitch better not drip on Alice's new sofas! "Yes," she breathed out in response to his words, dragging her attention back to him. "What do we have to do?" There was no hesitation. He was fully aware that all Alice wanted was the ability to walk beside him for eternity. An excited giggle burst out from her mouth when he found her skin and the tie she'd so festively added to her attire before she'd left, and she hung from the man that was hers in a loosey goosey sort of way with a back tilt the moment he left her neck alone and focused on getting beneath her skirt. He'd have to pull down her tights to get to her bare ass, but such a thing was never much of a hindrance for Abaddon Bell. Alice cried out with the sharp slap to her now naked rear, and dropped a hand so she could nudge those tights down even further down her rump until they were framing her bottom entirely there beneath the cheeks and the little pleated school girl skirt. Nuzzling into his chest, she gave him an affectionate bite there against the antlers of his stag -- but the groan from above had her jerking her head back and angling to glare at the witch. "Shut it, you. You've known from the start your purpose." Alice moved then, keeping herself pressed so close to Abaddon though; rolling so she was pressed flush to his front with her own. Her hand trailed down, found the blade against his thigh and she trailed her thumb along it's sharp edge, drawing her own blood and then raising it to paint across his lower lip, with a moue. "She's so complainy." -d-
one reaI bad man [3:09 A.M.]: Right to the edge of the tub they went, so that the witch hung carelessly above and still swayed, jostling a little further now that she squirmed while caught on the four different hooks. Blood traveled faster, dripping steadfast from the swinging witch to the tub. "Turn.. here...." He mumbled and he sifted around her, tilting her about while moving around her simultaneously. Hand kept her skirt raised so he could fit himself against that plush ass, burying groin against luscious curve and giving out a groan when that beloved tush pressed against soft cock. There was almost immediate response as both hands now found themselves meeting at her stomach. Hips nudged against her and her thighs bit into the tub while voice directed. "Stick your tongue out and catch her blood as it falls." He mumbled again and leaned his head forward to press forward to lower his face to the red ribbon still left in her hair. He took in the scent of those tendrils and waited for the lean of her body. The subtle movement when she leaned over the tub and hands rose up. Breasts were brushed over, one holding blade and the other giving a grope as it passed over. And then a sharp slice of pain, and she'd feel her self empty out. The curve of blade catching jugular in easy sweep and spilling the red out in a torrent and spray, a spray that was directed to the tub as she was shove over. The pretty dressed strumpet tipped over and dumped into the tub, not even being given the chance to react to the brutal maneuver. Left arm following the water witch down and clamping on the back of her neck, keeping her submerged as the water in the tub went from pink to deep red in only a matter of seconds. Runes and glyphs vibrated as water bubbled and boiled with the infusion of sacrificed power and black smoke poured out from the cracks in the floor. The billowing pillars of onyx smoke rising in high arcs before crashing down into the tub and melting into the pores of the girl who was sent to her death in a matter of seconds. The panic and pain lost and replaced with mild gloom as she was ushered to another plain of existence in the blink of an eye. Crag rock formations of bleak stone, an island of wet-rock, where sitting on the shore was long row-boat of ivory hue, crafted of bone. Black robed skeletal figure manning long-black oar, the head of the tool buried in the black sea. No more than a few feet beyond the coast could one see, as gray fog was thick in every direction. Eyeless sockets from beneath a dark hood flinching up from its post towards the arrival of a wayward soul, but lowered again to the waters once another arrived. Abaddon, about twenty seconds after she became conscious in this realm, seeped into the world. A shadowy leash that hung out from the mist was bound around his wrist, thick black tendrils, thousands of tiny threads (like a muscle) wrapped in a tight knot. Shadow sinew twisting and tensing as he pulled on it, the thread going taut when he took a couple steps from the edge of murky waters towards the center of the small island of stone and towards her. "Come." He beckoned with a crook of a finger before pulling himself backwards in a couple of steps, following the ebony rope towards water's edge and stepping aboard the awaiting boat. The ferryman only pushing them off of the shore to head through billowing mists once Alice was aboard. <done>
wrecked ships [3:27 A.M.]: Oh brilliant. I'm going to die with my knickers 'round my thighs. From nestled against his lap, laughing softly as he pushed her so deeply against his groin that she just couldn't help but rub her soft skin against the even softer silk of his pants -- to her throat cut without any sort of warning. A gargled sound -- mostly that of blood bubbling in place of a scream -- left her, and in she went, already bent over like she'd been instructed, tongue even out to catch the drops of blood that came from her cousin up above. The water closed around her head, and Alice had her little thought, and then the world went black. She wasn't aware of the way he held her down, in fact, she didn't even struggle like one might beneath the cruel hand of death. Eyes wide open, they just watched the water thicken with red, and she knew all at once that it was hers. And that she was dying. It was happening so fast, she barely registered the pain from the blade, but it felt like she floated there for hours before death took her, when in fact, it was only moments -- and then she was somewhere else. She didn't even remember waking up, she was just there; half sprawled on the rock as the sea sprayed against the rock as it lapped against it from the movement of the deep. Panic welled up, forcing her hand to fly to her throat to check and see if the fucking thing was still there, and all she felt was the same smooth flesh that had been there before. A gulp of air swallowed it down, and then Abaddon was there, and bade her come. Alice rose to her feet, and took a moment for herself to raise her damn tights back around her ass, and then took quick steps to following him, and onto the teetering boat. But Alice didn't teeter, no matter the way the thing swayed with the displacement of new weight; she was a steady thing around it's movement. Only when she was beside him, melding to his side, did she speak. "Where are we?" A glance was cast, curious at best, to the rowman, and Alice tongued against the scab on the inside of her little, before reverting her attention back to Abaddon. -d-
one reaI bad man [3:39 A.M.]: She stepped close to the boat and he held her at bay briefly, peeling at her skin and drawing a thread of shadow out from her wrist, and then he lured her forward.Once she was aboard the quiet undead creature put them on their path and Abaddon pressed a hand alongside Alice's hip. Here his skin was paler, so was hers, and the ink in his skin was missing. Left bare. Naked. Pure flesh. Beard remained though, and so did the hang of chocolate tendrils that hung wildly about forehead and features. "Underworld, you have to make the trip at least once before you can do it again on your own." He said while shadow that he plucked from her was thrown towards the rocky shore that they were leaving, it flew in the air with surpising weight behind it before falling to rock and catching hold. Anchoring down. The shadow stretched and oozed as the ferryman took them farther and farther away, and it wasn't long at all before the little island was gone. Smoke and fog in every direction but up, and up was a blanket of space absent of twinkling life, endless oblivion drifting for all eternity. Her shadow thread that he pulled from her was twisted about her wrist casually with one hand, but he could only do so much. "Bind this around yourself, and to yourself. Once we get to the end you can tie it off, and you'll know which way to go back and forth between the living and the dead. This thread is made of your magic, and will be cemented with the offering of the witch that hangs above your corpse." The boat tilted to the left a little, but Abaddon twisted his arm and curled his fingers around the black sinewy rope attached to his wrist, and pulled hard. Body tilting to a crouch to press knee in against the inside of the boat's belly, and redirected the boat to go in the direction that he willed. <done>
wrecked ships [3:48 A.M.]: Underworld. The idea of it trembled at her lips, but it was mostly with the fear that he'd had to do something to himself to get here -- though he was answering that silent question before she could put real fear into the thought. He plucked at her to gain a shadowy tether, and Alice watched the way he threw it towards the rock, like he'd done with his own. They were moving quickly enough through the water that it was only a few heartbeats before nothing could be seen attached to the pair of shadow ropes. Alice quickly looked down to what he was doing about her wrist, nodding her head with his instruction. It was a simple spell to bind herself to the shadows, and she did so, and quietly. Mouthing the words to herself while he talked over it -- only faltering a bit with the mention of her corpse. A word that Alice had never thought to associate herself with, despite the multiple attempts on her own life. It crinkled up the slope of her slender nose, and made her whisper the words more quickly to finish the spell. The tilt of the boat, and Abaddon moving to adjust it gave Alice an opportunity to try and see if there was anything beyond -- or in -- that fog. If this was the Underworld, were they traveling over the River Styx? Were there lost souls within the depths of that water? Alice shifted, pressed to the side of the boat with her hip and held on to it with both hands as she tilted over enough to be able to see the black water they cut through. Looking for anything and everything within the current of the water, and sending another questioning glance to their guide, and then back to Abaddon. "Where are we going?" It was cold here, exactly the way one might think that this level of the otherworlds might be, and Alice shifted to press her butt against the edge of the boat, and rub her palms and fingers along her bare upper arms. Cold, yes. But before him she'd always cherished such a thing. And wait! Where the hell were his tattoos? They were such a norm, it took Alice a moment to realize they were gone. Her brows furrowed, and distaste reflected in her expression -- and if his were gone? A hand was peeled from her arm, and brought up to float in front of her face, almost afraid to see it naked of it's small markings that held such meaning. -d-
wrecked ships [2:26 A.M.]: Just a little rush, babe. The feeling came out of nowhere, there in the middle of the Argosy while she was helping a long-time customer, and Council member. It was so overwhelming that Alice actually cried out, dropping the book in her hand as she took a blind step back and pressed herself against a low shelf. Every atom that made up Alice Clare suddenly was screaming Abaddon's name so loudly in her head. Wild eyes flashed open, focusing on the first thing she saw, which was the middle-aged Avery witch waving a frantic hand in front of Alice's confused face. "What? No. No, I'm well. I've .. I've got to go. My .. my granddad, he'll assist you," her voice was a breathless thing, and she seemed to have forgotten that Charles was upstairs in the apartment rather than down in the shop, or maybe she didn't give a flying wank about it. Alice pushed away from the fire witch -- just another notch on the long list of offenses between these two frenemy families -- and off she went. Bursting past the double doors and onto the street crowded with holiday shoppers. It wasn't particularly chilly, but it wasn't that warm either. She left her coat inside, forgot she even had a coat, in the frenzied need to get to where her man was. But she barely felt the cold in the air on her bare arms, and when it went even colder when she finally stopped running through the crowds and found a place where she could easily disappear into the shadows, she didn't feel that either. The fast shadow travel spilled her out into their kitchen. Alice barely gave a moment's pause, and the soles of her shoes took her through the house. "Abaddon!," her voice rose up, it's octave nearing hysterics -- simply because she might go crazy if he wasn't where she thought he might be. There, she turned into the living room and the relief that she felt when she laid eyes on him was a staggering thing that sagged Alice into the doorframe that she clutched to keep to her feet. All she could do, really, was stare at him while she caught her breath. Our girl? A white short sleeved blouse was worn; buttoned all the way to the throat in an attempt to mask some of the bruises that lined her skin where Abaddon had little care with her flesh. It was worn beneath a jumper style dress, dark gray with a thin red plaid pattern over top it. Oh so very school girl with it's tight bodice that molded over her breasts before the high waist belled out into a pleated skirt. She wore opaque black tights, and her feet tucked into t-strapped heels. Exactly the sort of thing that Charles would expect to see her wearing for working at the shop, and in these trying moments? Pretense was everything. There was even a little red bowtie at her throat, and a matching band holding back golden strands from falling into her face. -d-
one reaI bad man [2:48 A.M.]: There she was. She emerged from shadow and face wore the grin like most people wore their skin. The infinite amusement in his dark world, never ceasing to entertain the ancient monster. He glided instantly towards her with arms out, not taking a moment to relish her outfit. "There you are." Warmly released and a softening to that face that lowered to hers, offering the bite of beard before th kiss of his mouth arms ensnaring her by the waist and pulling her up and in. Physique rocking back on bare feet and towing the girl back towards the tub and through the energy barrier of the magic circle he inscribed into the floorboards. "This has been long overdue, and in the wake of your sister's passing... all the more reason to take the next step to immortality, no?" He murmured and cooed, nuzzling handsome face against her cheek and sifting face into the crook of her neck. Teeth finding the edge of that bow that she wore around her neck. Material found itself pinched, the skin beneath too, in the monster's jaws and he tugged at the red ribbon, meaning to unravel it so bare flesh was unhindered to his mouth's wants. Shuffling footfalls never ceasing while hand with blade hung at her hip, the opposite five sliding back around and drawing up that skirt. Bare ass was the intended target to sweeping limb, laying a loud smack to pert rear before taking cheek in a vise like clench from the dragon's claw. The girl that swung above now moaned some, Abaddon's magic slithering and trickling against her senses drawing her from the pleasant coma to the horrifying reality. <done>
wrecked ships [2:56 A.M.]: A hand snaked it's way up to her covered chest, where she scratched at the swell of her breasts beneath it while Abaddon came closer and closer. Every step brought his scent deeper into her senses and Alice groaned a little -- a thing he'd hear so well with the way he dipped his face in and found her mouth. That same hand darted up, wrapping behind his neck as she came up onto the toes of her kitten heels. He brought her up even higher with the tug about her waist that plied her front to his, and surrounded her in magic and heat. She chewed on his mouth as he moved them closer to the middle of the room and through the buzzing energy of his circle. It was that shift, that change in the air that pulled Alice's mouth from his and had her really taking a look about the room for the first time. The tub. The tub was in the living room. Her head canted back, and there, above it, there was the witch with Donovan blood swimming in her body. Bitch better not drip on Alice's new sofas! "Yes," she breathed out in response to his words, dragging her attention back to him. "What do we have to do?" There was no hesitation. He was fully aware that all Alice wanted was the ability to walk beside him for eternity. An excited giggle burst out from her mouth when he found her skin and the tie she'd so festively added to her attire before she'd left, and she hung from the man that was hers in a loosey goosey sort of way with a back tilt the moment he left her neck alone and focused on getting beneath her skirt. He'd have to pull down her tights to get to her bare ass, but such a thing was never much of a hindrance for Abaddon Bell. Alice cried out with the sharp slap to her now naked rear, and dropped a hand so she could nudge those tights down even further down her rump until they were framing her bottom entirely there beneath the cheeks and the little pleated school girl skirt. Nuzzling into his chest, she gave him an affectionate bite there against the antlers of his stag -- but the groan from above had her jerking her head back and angling to glare at the witch. "Shut it, you. You've known from the start your purpose." Alice moved then, keeping herself pressed so close to Abaddon though; rolling so she was pressed flush to his front with her own. Her hand trailed down, found the blade against his thigh and she trailed her thumb along it's sharp edge, drawing her own blood and then raising it to paint across his lower lip, with a moue. "She's so complainy." -d-
one reaI bad man [3:09 A.M.]: Right to the edge of the tub they went, so that the witch hung carelessly above and still swayed, jostling a little further now that she squirmed while caught on the four different hooks. Blood traveled faster, dripping steadfast from the swinging witch to the tub. "Turn.. here...." He mumbled and he sifted around her, tilting her about while moving around her simultaneously. Hand kept her skirt raised so he could fit himself against that plush ass, burying groin against luscious curve and giving out a groan when that beloved tush pressed against soft cock. There was almost immediate response as both hands now found themselves meeting at her stomach. Hips nudged against her and her thighs bit into the tub while voice directed. "Stick your tongue out and catch her blood as it falls." He mumbled again and leaned his head forward to press forward to lower his face to the red ribbon still left in her hair. He took in the scent of those tendrils and waited for the lean of her body. The subtle movement when she leaned over the tub and hands rose up. Breasts were brushed over, one holding blade and the other giving a grope as it passed over. And then a sharp slice of pain, and she'd feel her self empty out. The curve of blade catching jugular in easy sweep and spilling the red out in a torrent and spray, a spray that was directed to the tub as she was shove over. The pretty dressed strumpet tipped over and dumped into the tub, not even being given the chance to react to the brutal maneuver. Left arm following the water witch down and clamping on the back of her neck, keeping her submerged as the water in the tub went from pink to deep red in only a matter of seconds. Runes and glyphs vibrated as water bubbled and boiled with the infusion of sacrificed power and black smoke poured out from the cracks in the floor. The billowing pillars of onyx smoke rising in high arcs before crashing down into the tub and melting into the pores of the girl who was sent to her death in a matter of seconds. The panic and pain lost and replaced with mild gloom as she was ushered to another plain of existence in the blink of an eye. Crag rock formations of bleak stone, an island of wet-rock, where sitting on the shore was long row-boat of ivory hue, crafted of bone. Black robed skeletal figure manning long-black oar, the head of the tool buried in the black sea. No more than a few feet beyond the coast could one see, as gray fog was thick in every direction. Eyeless sockets from beneath a dark hood flinching up from its post towards the arrival of a wayward soul, but lowered again to the waters once another arrived. Abaddon, about twenty seconds after she became conscious in this realm, seeped into the world. A shadowy leash that hung out from the mist was bound around his wrist, thick black tendrils, thousands of tiny threads (like a muscle) wrapped in a tight knot. Shadow sinew twisting and tensing as he pulled on it, the thread going taut when he took a couple steps from the edge of murky waters towards the center of the small island of stone and towards her. "Come." He beckoned with a crook of a finger before pulling himself backwards in a couple of steps, following the ebony rope towards water's edge and stepping aboard the awaiting boat. The ferryman only pushing them off of the shore to head through billowing mists once Alice was aboard. <done>
wrecked ships [3:27 A.M.]: Oh brilliant. I'm going to die with my knickers 'round my thighs. From nestled against his lap, laughing softly as he pushed her so deeply against his groin that she just couldn't help but rub her soft skin against the even softer silk of his pants -- to her throat cut without any sort of warning. A gargled sound -- mostly that of blood bubbling in place of a scream -- left her, and in she went, already bent over like she'd been instructed, tongue even out to catch the drops of blood that came from her cousin up above. The water closed around her head, and Alice had her little thought, and then the world went black. She wasn't aware of the way he held her down, in fact, she didn't even struggle like one might beneath the cruel hand of death. Eyes wide open, they just watched the water thicken with red, and she knew all at once that it was hers. And that she was dying. It was happening so fast, she barely registered the pain from the blade, but it felt like she floated there for hours before death took her, when in fact, it was only moments -- and then she was somewhere else. She didn't even remember waking up, she was just there; half sprawled on the rock as the sea sprayed against the rock as it lapped against it from the movement of the deep. Panic welled up, forcing her hand to fly to her throat to check and see if the fucking thing was still there, and all she felt was the same smooth flesh that had been there before. A gulp of air swallowed it down, and then Abaddon was there, and bade her come. Alice rose to her feet, and took a moment for herself to raise her damn tights back around her ass, and then took quick steps to following him, and onto the teetering boat. But Alice didn't teeter, no matter the way the thing swayed with the displacement of new weight; she was a steady thing around it's movement. Only when she was beside him, melding to his side, did she speak. "Where are we?" A glance was cast, curious at best, to the rowman, and Alice tongued against the scab on the inside of her little, before reverting her attention back to Abaddon. -d-
one reaI bad man [3:39 A.M.]: She stepped close to the boat and he held her at bay briefly, peeling at her skin and drawing a thread of shadow out from her wrist, and then he lured her forward.Once she was aboard the quiet undead creature put them on their path and Abaddon pressed a hand alongside Alice's hip. Here his skin was paler, so was hers, and the ink in his skin was missing. Left bare. Naked. Pure flesh. Beard remained though, and so did the hang of chocolate tendrils that hung wildly about forehead and features. "Underworld, you have to make the trip at least once before you can do it again on your own." He said while shadow that he plucked from her was thrown towards the rocky shore that they were leaving, it flew in the air with surpising weight behind it before falling to rock and catching hold. Anchoring down. The shadow stretched and oozed as the ferryman took them farther and farther away, and it wasn't long at all before the little island was gone. Smoke and fog in every direction but up, and up was a blanket of space absent of twinkling life, endless oblivion drifting for all eternity. Her shadow thread that he pulled from her was twisted about her wrist casually with one hand, but he could only do so much. "Bind this around yourself, and to yourself. Once we get to the end you can tie it off, and you'll know which way to go back and forth between the living and the dead. This thread is made of your magic, and will be cemented with the offering of the witch that hangs above your corpse." The boat tilted to the left a little, but Abaddon twisted his arm and curled his fingers around the black sinewy rope attached to his wrist, and pulled hard. Body tilting to a crouch to press knee in against the inside of the boat's belly, and redirected the boat to go in the direction that he willed. <done>
wrecked ships [3:48 A.M.]: Underworld. The idea of it trembled at her lips, but it was mostly with the fear that he'd had to do something to himself to get here -- though he was answering that silent question before she could put real fear into the thought. He plucked at her to gain a shadowy tether, and Alice watched the way he threw it towards the rock, like he'd done with his own. They were moving quickly enough through the water that it was only a few heartbeats before nothing could be seen attached to the pair of shadow ropes. Alice quickly looked down to what he was doing about her wrist, nodding her head with his instruction. It was a simple spell to bind herself to the shadows, and she did so, and quietly. Mouthing the words to herself while he talked over it -- only faltering a bit with the mention of her corpse. A word that Alice had never thought to associate herself with, despite the multiple attempts on her own life. It crinkled up the slope of her slender nose, and made her whisper the words more quickly to finish the spell. The tilt of the boat, and Abaddon moving to adjust it gave Alice an opportunity to try and see if there was anything beyond -- or in -- that fog. If this was the Underworld, were they traveling over the River Styx? Were there lost souls within the depths of that water? Alice shifted, pressed to the side of the boat with her hip and held on to it with both hands as she tilted over enough to be able to see the black water they cut through. Looking for anything and everything within the current of the water, and sending another questioning glance to their guide, and then back to Abaddon. "Where are we going?" It was cold here, exactly the way one might think that this level of the otherworlds might be, and Alice shifted to press her butt against the edge of the boat, and rub her palms and fingers along her bare upper arms. Cold, yes. But before him she'd always cherished such a thing. And wait! Where the hell were his tattoos? They were such a norm, it took Alice a moment to realize they were gone. Her brows furrowed, and distaste reflected in her expression -- and if his were gone? A hand was peeled from her arm, and brought up to float in front of her face, almost afraid to see it naked of it's small markings that held such meaning. -d-