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 Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2005 12:52 pm
|___ A N G E L ___| 
Welcome to Angel's Meruhen!
This is a journal for ED, so please don't post without her permission unless dropping off a gift.
Journal Props and (c) to Anya, for spawning a trend. .: Stats :. Str: 5 End: 6 Int: 2 Eth: 2 Luc: 3 Chr: 7 PerStr: 2 PerWk: 2 .: Bond/Family Info :. - Bond: n/a Parent [a]: Parent : Brother: Grandparents [a]: Grandparents : .: Wakareme :.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 11:42 am
|___ N I K I T A ___| .: Stats :. Str: 2 End: 2 Int: 4 Eth: 2 Luc: 4 Chr: 6 PerStr: 2 PerWk: 2 .: Bond/Family Info :. - Bond: n/a Parent [a]: Parent : Brother: Grandparents [a]: Grandparents : .: Wakareme :. .: Bulletin Board :.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:30 pm
Angel's profile
Name: Angel
Nickname: Shortie, Tricks
Sex: male
Age:
Type: One Winged Angel
Species: humanoid
Position: seme
Personality: brash, cocky, rude, swaggering, entitlement ho
Ability:
Turn ons: Money, fur, expensive fabrics, being obeyed
Turn offs: Being told no, having to work, people mocking him
Looks: Thin, sullen, rarely smiles. Pale skin (sun makes you wrinkle!) with long pink hair.
Education: Very little. Capable of reading and math, never sees a point for more.
Occupation: mercenary
Marital status: single
Family: don't ask him.
Diction/accent:
Relationships: many short flings
Sexual history: many short flings
Places:
Possessions: a large sword (necessary for work), a hip pouch filled with "parlor trick" type magician tools, extensive wardrobe.
Hobbies: shopping, bargaining, picking unnecessary fights
Obsessions: success
Beliefs: The world was created to please him, and must order itself accordingly.
Politics: Anything that helps him should be rewarded, anything that gets in his way outlawed.
Ambitions: To have enough money socked away to retire and live a lazy life.
Religion: Doubted afterlife and god, makes the motions all the same.
Superstitions: Broken looking glasses
Fears: Broken looking glasses
Attitude: Stuck up b*****d, highly on defensive.
Taste in books/music/etc: String music, exotic art, short books.
Foods: Anything that tastes rich.
Handwriting: A chicken scratch scrawl
Astrological sign:
Talents:
Special:
Type:
History:
Current:
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:37 pm
Nikita's Profile
Name: Nikita
Nickname: Niki
Sex: male
Age:
Type: Nomad
Species: humanoid
Position: variable
Personality: Charming, flirtatious, loyal, snarky, distracted by pretty things
Ability:
Turn ons: Stealing, acrobatics, glasses, no, sparkly things
Turn offs: Liars, those with their noses in the air and thumbs up their asses
Looks: Tall, dark, wiry muscles, pierced, prince of the desert type
Education: Knows basic herbals, reads well (and enjoys it), knows basic art styles (learned as a cover), addition, subtraction, division, multiplication.
Marital status: single sort of
Family: large.
Diction/accent:
Relationships: few devoted relationships, many flirts.
Sexual history: many many flirts.
Places:
Possessions: Lots of jewelery, including crystals and beads for his hair, lots of furniture and many small trinkets.
Hobbies: reading, watching people, playing with Vasi
Obsessions: Peace
Beliefs: What you do, returns to you.
Politics: He tries to stay out of them.
Ambitions: To fall in love and stay there
Religion: Mother Goddess and a Father God, fairly devout.
Superstitions: numerous
Fears: Losing loved ones
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:44 pm
Angel's Belongings
Three fur coats of varying weights
Two leather jackets
Four velvet coats of differing lengths
Six swords
Eight shields
Hip bag filled with miscellaneous "potions" he brags about.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:46 pm
Nikita's belongings
-Many shinies.
-Many TROPHY shinies.
-Art. Mostly of pretty flowers.
-Lots of brown clothing.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 7:58 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 8:03 pm
Nikita's Friends/Foes
Friends:
Vasily. And then some.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 8:08 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2005 8:09 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2005 8:11 am
Excerpt from Angel's personal journal The annoying little man at the shop stopped me again today. It never fails. Everytime I go for food, he starts on about my job. You would think he had something better to do with his time than wait for my very irregular visits. Of course not. "Damn mercenaries. Come to spend your ill gotten gains, have you? Am I the only store that will let you IN?" No, Fats, just the closest one to home.
I don't really know what he's got against me. It isn't as if anyone in his family ever fought. What, would he prefer I lay down the sword and wait for his family to enlist? Yeah, there's a lot of call for genetically obese idiots in the military right now, that's why I keep getting called for. Besides, no matter what side I fight on, I always make sure I get paid. So he gets his money when I get mine, and makes a fine profit off of me. Snob.
His latest thing to pick on is that mercenaries rarely choose sides based on morals. Never mind that morals won't pay for my sword, my clothes, definitely not my house, not in this area. Going to the highest bidder, I can buy the food I want, buy the friends I want, slob is lucky he's not one of the items I'm looking for or I would buy him too. One of these days, I'll pull something out of the pouch to use on him.
And where does he get off calling my carryall a manpurse? I know lots of men in the company who use a satchel of some sort. It just makes sense. Anything I need, any little cheap trick I picked up in some backwater joint, whatever I stole from the last employeer that might come in handy, it's all right there. And _that_ gives me an edge. Edges like that don't just keep me alive, they make me a desirable commodity and a lot more fun at parties.
At least I got everything I'll need for the week now. Don't have to go back anytime too soon, listen to him wheeze about fence riders and prettyboys who think swords equal virility. I'm not compensating. I'm just carrying a visual aid.
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2005 10:01 pm
((Green is Sebastien, dark blue is Angel))
((Rp 7/13 pt1))
Sebastian sat behind the coutner at his dusty and slightly overcrowded shop. Thankfuly it was nto crowded with people, just shelves and bottles and jars and numersous things.
It has ban a uneventful day and he was placing the last of some crushed things into a bottle that was sitting over a little burner. He hummed to himself as he watched the potion bubble and turn from a sickly green to a fresh clear color.
"Wonderful, now i dont have to worry." He grinned and let it simmer for a while longer.
Angel wasn't at all sure of the this shop. It had come rather highly recommended to him. Apparently the propietor was a potions genius of some sort. Which was great, except that Angel had been warned that the man in question was...rather finicky about who was actually allowed to purchase anything.
Not that Angel was too worried about that. Very few people ever turned him down and stuck to it. If he couldn't charm them, he could damn well pay them enough to quell any qualm they had.
He yanked the potion off the burner and corked it before anymore of the blue smoke got out. Grinning he set it on a rack to cool and scoooted the burner over to the table beside the counter. The last time he left it on the counter someone had decided touching ti while it was still hot was a good idea.
Pulling out a bad he dumped a pile of plants onto the counter and started to sort them out. He hummed to himself as he worked, probably annoying anything in earshot, and set the plants into little bundles to be tied together later.
Angel opened the door carefully and stepped in. Unlike the last shop he'd been in, there didn't seem to be any assistants around the place. At least, no one walked up and offered to take his fur or be of any assistance. He looked around, noticing the man behind the counter. Ah. Help.
"You there. Where's your boss hiding at? Tell him he's got a customer waiting."
Sebastian looked up slowly, one eyebrow raised over his glasses, and grined at the man. "Ok, so i will tell myself that i have a customer waiting to talk to me should i see fit to talk?" He asked as he snaped a band around a bundle of rosemary.
Setting the herb in a jar he leaned back and looked at the man before him waiting on an answer.
"Ah, forgive me. I thought that surely as young a man as you would only be an apprentice or helper of sorts here. That you're this young, _and_ in charge, gives me great hope for the potency of your items." Angel lied smoothly, treading a bit of water as he backpedaled. "I was told that one could purchase items of assorted...usefullness here. Hallucinogens. Powders to blind temporarily without scarring an opponent's eyes. Is it true?"
"Yes, that is true, and if you heard that much them you should also know that i am quite picky as to who i send my creations out with." He smirked at Angel and rose from his stool. Picking up his stacks of herbs and thing he walked out from behind the counter, greed robes swishing around him, and went to deposit them on the shelves they belonged in.
"I shoudl also investigate who is telling all this wonderful information."
"You know how it is with superior merchandise. Word gets around." Angel moved his light hair off of his shoulder, smiling a thin smile at the man. "I'm Angel. I don't live around here, so I doubt you've heard of me." The thickness of his voice would have given him away as a liar if anyone who knew him heard that one. Well, that and the words themselves. Angel assumed _everyone_ knew him.
"In any case, all I'm looking for are a few simple things to help me in my line of work. Surely we can at least discuss a potential sale?"
He placed a bundle of something slighlty blue in a jar of other slightly blue bundles and turned a smirt toward Angel. "That we can, but only if the other half of this party shal condone to be truthful with me." He leaned against the shelf, green fur of hsi robe mixing with the ends of his hair.
"What line of work is it that you will be needing my ingredients for hum?"
"Well, that's easy enough." He relaxed his stance a bit, letting his hand drift to his hip pouch. "I'm a mercenary. While I will kill if I have to, if the person who hired me doesn't specify that I should, I'd rather not. Blood spatters, poisons linger, corpses stink. If I have ways to subdue my opponents without getting my hands too dirty, I'll take it."
He eyed the man carefully. "Of course, sometimes in the course of my work, there are...hostages. They complicate things. Usually they're worth more to me alive than dead, but it's rather difficult to convince all of them that. Things to make them drift into a pleasant sleep so I can just toss them in a cart and get them out of a situation are...helpful." His pauses were getting longer as he searched for the right words for some things.
"Mostly it's about ease. Merchants who hire me don't like thinking they just sicced a killing machine on a rival businessman. They like knowing I'll leave them alive. Dirt poor, slightly insane maybe, maybe a little scarred. But alive. And I assure you, it's very tricky to leave some of them alive. What say you? Sell me a few tools, I'll be out of your hair and out of your town before you know it."
He chuckled and brushed his fingers through his hair. "Mercs....always with the mercs" Walking behind another shelf he grabed a bottle and walked back into the ling of Angel's sight.
"Sleeping podwer. All they have to do in inhale it and they will be flat on their backs in minuets, though you have to make sure they inhale enough or they will be awake enough to strugle." He dangled the bottle in front of himself.
"I have things that till kill a man in moments, things that will make him see what ever his brain decides to make him see and things to turn the most stable man into a twitching twittering pansy. Which else would you like?"
Sebastian liked Mercs for one reason. They payed well for their tools and payed often.
Angel widened his eyes appreciatively. This was turning out much easier than he had originally hoped! "Anything that will make them sensitive to post hypnotic suggestions. Best if it looks like incense. And an antidote to it. I wouldn't want to be vulnerable to it myself."
He pondered to himself. He did have that lovely little caravan job lined up next month. It would be good to prepare himself for that. "Illusion powders, if you have them. The best ones I've found so far were little better than fireworks. I'm sure a person with your skills can do much more than that."
What about that sly little daughter of the merchant of the caravan? Hmph. Wouldn't put it past the chit to try snooping through Angel's personal possesions. "If you have anything that will make a person nauseous from touching it, I can use it. Can't be too safe."
Sebastian raised a brow. "Well, someone does their job well." Turning and disapearing down an isle he motioned for Angel to follow "This way."
Lined up on a wooden shelf were bottles and jars filled with various colored powders, many of which had names the Mercernary recognized and a few he didnt. "Everything you want is on this case, minus the antidotes. I do not have anything that will cause nausea on contact, though i could make some fairly quickly, but i do have things that will burn when touched with bare skin."
He had not had anyone in teh shop since its opening who knew good uses for most of his things. It was nice to have someone who could appericate the many things a simple powder could do.
"If you are going to burn some of them, and you have not used them before, ask....a few of them burn in colors which might hinder your, well, plans"
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Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2005 7:44 pm
((7/13 rp, cont'.))
Angel was a kid in a candy store. This was beyond what he'd hoped for. This was the universe grabbing him by the shirt and saying "Angel, you lucky b*****d, dontcha get how much I love ya?!" Ah, good times, good times.
"Burnings are good. For the "incense"...well, let's just say I think a few merchants have been taking my good name for granted and are due for a bit of a price hike." Angel winked, then laughed. "If it puts them in a uh...receptive mood, it will work. But it does have to blend in, so I need it to either look as close as normal incense as possible OR be so blindingly outrageous i can make a show piece of it."
He took a moment to eye the potions master carefully. Wasn't quite the clerk once you got up close to him. Huh. "As for questions...I would tell you to assume I know nothing, but you'd probably wander off then. Let's just stick to those bare necessities for now. Perhaps after my next job, you'll be as amiable to more sales."
Smirking a glint appeared in Sebastian's gray eyes as he leaned down and plucked a bottle off the bottom shelf. " I believe this is what you want. Personal creation. It is a wonderful hallucinogen if given in large doses but in smaller ones, usually caused by breathing in the smoke, it causes one to either see minor hallucinations or 'illusions'"
He grabed another bottle, this one full of a greenish oil. "This has much the same affect, but if it is burned it will make a bright neon green smoke. Which makes it a wonderful accesory for people taking on jobs as travling performers."
Leaning against the shelf he eyed the merc and wondered what he would make of the wares
"I vow, if I don't leave soon, I'll carry a bit of everything you have out with me!" Angel eyed both bottles greedily. "Those plus my original askings, and I'll be on my way for now. I haven't had a bite to eat all day, and I'm never one for bargaining when I'm hungry." His stomach tightened a bit at the thought of the luscious smells of baking bread he'd passed on the way here.
"To tell the truth, I never expected to have such great luck today." He put a hand on his hip. "Granted, I came prepared, but not to stay out for more than a few minutes. But I am enjoying this...excursion. Perhaps you'd care to join me for my meal? We can pick up where we left off with full bellies."
"If the food in on you i would not be against something. There is a wonderful little bakery just down the street that makes the most wonderful breads and pastries." He grinned walking back toward his counter to place the two bottles on it. "And perhaps if you buy me the right things i could be persuaded to part with something extra."
He grabed the other things Angel had asked for and named his price for the lot. It was nothing outragous, Angel had heard worse, but it was not the low proce of someone who didnt know hwo valuable his wares could be to the right people.
"I wouldn't be so gauche as to suggest food and not pick up the bill!" That and it never hurt to butter someone up. He found his money in a pocket and slid it across to the shop keeper. There was a bit over. Not enough to be ingratiating, enough not to be insulting. "Pastries, you say? Lead on, please. My stomach will be forever grateful." He readjusted his coat a bit to prepare for the walk outside.
Placing the money into his cashe under the table he fluffed his robe and strode toward the door, making sure to flip the sign to closed. "Pastries, yes...wonderful delicious sugary pastries." He smirked and motioned for Angel to procced him outside.
"At the risk of sounding childish, do they have anything with frosting? Loads of it?" He stepped back outside and stuffed his hands in his pockets while he waited for the door to be locked. "And something to drink? My thirst is eating at me, if that makes any sense."
Well. New toys for work and pastries. Forget looking up. His world was practically singing at this point.
"Ahh a man after my own heart, they have many things slathered in frosting." He grinned and locked hte door with a set of keys that appeared out of his sleeve and disapared back into the sleeve just as fast.
This conversation was much better than the one with the nasty archer. It involved someone who understood his work to an extent and garnered him free pastries.
Angel blinked a bit at the keys. Did the man double as a thief or was it just practice that let him move those keys that swiftly? He filed the thought away for future reference and followed half a step behind on the way to the bakery. The thought of a slice of cake was highly motivating at that point. Something thick and creamy...Ah, lunch.
"You don't strike me as the cake and pudding type. Is it a hidden vice? Or just not one you tell everyone if they're not paying?
As he walked down the street it was very apparent where they were going, the smell of cinamon rolls and fresh bread started to fill the street as they neared the bakery. "More of a hidden vice." He said with a grin as he headed for a pastel pink door whihc resided under a sign saying "Wonders's"
"Though it is not hard for the information to get out, i am seen in here most days..." As he opened the door the younb boy at the counter waved a happy hello as he was talking to another customer.
"It's just not...discussed in polite company where you spend your time?" Angel chuckled, then inhaled the overpoweringly delicious smells of the bakery. "Mmmm, cinnamon! Care to order for the both of us? You'd know the place's specialities a lot better than I would."
He stepped closer to some of the food on display and fought the urge to drool. Frosting dripped from multiple surfaces. If he'd been hungry before, he was starving now.
"more like not discussed at all." He smirked and waved the cute little boy behind the counter over. "The usual for me and whatever the specality of the day is for him." He waved his hand at the almost drooling Angel.
"We will be at my usual table." He smiled at the boy as the kid hustled off to get the order. "This way." he rested his hand on Angel's arm and steered him toward a table near the back corner of the shop
"You have a usual table?" The hand on his arm was warm, so he allowed it to stay. For now. "I see you weren't exaggerating. You do come here that often." Angel looked around, mindful more than ever of his wing. As fun as it could be to get frosting on it, it would be a b***h to clean up. "Do you often bring company?"
He leaned a bit closer and grinned wolfishly. "Or am I just that special? And here I don't even know your name!"
"Yes, we are." Sebastian as his usual icing slathered cinnamon roll was placed infront of him, conviently in a little box to be carried out in. Infront of Angel they placed a piece of cake that looked like the sugar contant could kill an entire city.
Wating and watching as Angel drooled over his food for a moment he slid back his chair and stood. Smiling down at the other man he pushed his glasses higher up his nose. "Well, that was wonderful and i hope to see you again. Please whenever you are in the city come to my shop, i am sure i will have something for you."
Before Angel could really register what he said, and notice that Sebastian had really left him with the bill the alchemist disapeared out the door and back to his shop to eat his cinnamon roll in silence.
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2005 4:58 pm
RP: 7/20 (Damion and Nikita)
*Damion was shuffling through town on a particularly cloudly day, his head tilting up to glance for rain occasionally. Mutterings of a stupid woman kept findign their way past his lips, and his tail flicked with annoyance and he glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. He was supposed to find Sebastian's shop, and get more cream for his ribs, but, in the confusing manner that cities have, he had lost his way, and even his nose couldn't help him, having gone numb from the barrage of new smells.*
Chewing on a bit of pastry, Nikita was watching the people flow past him. A few were too easy, likely to be pigeons for someone else or traps for someone like himself. One or two had pieces he'd like to see on Vasi. For them he might come back. More then likely, if he was honest with himself.
He savored the sweetness of his snack, amusing himself by constructing back stories for those who weren't marks. In the midst of it all, he was taken a bit by surprise to see a large dog with a piece of paper. His brain realigned itself. Lost, from the looks of it. And upset about it. Niki stuffed what was left of his food in his mouth and swallowed before walking up to the creature. "You a bit lost. Mayhap I can help you?"
*Damion was crouched over, on all fours, but he was still pretty big, his tail flicking back and forth as he looked around. Damn this city, he was really starting to get annoyed. At the sound of Nikita asking if he could help Damion, the feral Dou stood up, showing he was much taller then he appeared. He eyed the other Dou, looking very cranky* ".....This ******** place... it's so hard not to get lost..."
Nikita held his hands up, showing them to be empty. "It just takes a bit of getting used to is all. I probably got lost my first few times around as well." Slowly he let his hands drift back down. Mother of mercy, the dog was tall. "You have directions then? I can help if you have written directions or know where you're trying to reach." Hopefully the creature wasn't in a mood to eat anyone's face, much less Nikita's.
*Damion snorted, then sneezed* "My nose. I could find it with my nose, or if the female was here." *He grunted, and looked even more annoyed, while he crossed his arms over his mesh shirt covered chest* "....I'm looking for Sebastian's shop." *He said, as though everyone knew who Sebastian was*
"Sebastien. Sebastien. What sort of shop is it? Perfumery? Haberdasher?" Niki fished a handkerchief from one of his vest's many pockets and offered it to the dog. "Leather worker maybe?"
*Damion snorted at the offered hanky, flying snot at it rather rudely. Oh man, he was not in the mood* ".....He works with herbs and chemicals..." *He made no motion to apologize for the snot flying, either, and his posture spoke loudly of how he wasn't going to, either.
"Not collars and muzzles? A pity." Nikita refolded and replaced the linen square. "I have never heard of him. At least, not that works with herbs and chemicals. There's a Sebastien who sings in a choir not far from here, but he is much too young to work with chemicals. Only six, you see." Ugh. "Perhaps you have more to go on than that slim bit of information? A shop name, perhaps? A street name?"
"I don't pay attention to things like that." Agh, a babbler, crap. Damion looked around, hopeing that he could see Sebastian's shop, but, no such long. DAMNATION! He started to walk again, hopeing that Nikita would take the hint*
"Ah. So basically your keeper just kicked you out and told you to find your own way." Nikita chuckled. "Not that I can _blame_ her. But I'd be careful if I were you. The dogcatcher has been working his way through the area. Seems someone told him there was a stray."
"A few things, you little pissant." *He turned, growling angrily* "....One. I am not a dog. Two. You're pissing me off. Three. She did not kick me out. I doubt Chieko would have the balls to do that. Four. Unless you have something important to say, piss off." *He snarled again, tail flicking with high annoyance*
Nikita crossed his arms and glared. "Well, I was _trying_ to help, but the stick up your a** seems to be getting in the way of your communication skills. You see, most people need a bit more to direct you than a name and person's skills. As for not a dog, I'll believe that when you prove it, especially since blowing snot around is not a great way to establish that you're a normalish person!" He held his hand out. "If you let me see the piece of paper, it may help me figure out who or what Sebastien is."
*Damion growled angrily* "Wolf, a*****e. Wolf. Not Dog. You expect me to be nice after being called a dog? How would you react after being called a girly pissant?" *He waved the piece of paper at Nikita, which said "Rib cream" on it, and nothing else. He was really getting annoyed. He hated the city, he hated nosey people, and he hated the fact that it smelled like it was going to rain*
"I did not call you a dog. I told you to be wary of the dogcatcher. If it is fourfooted, or looks like it should be, it is his job to harass it. And I would be rather flattered, actually. Skin this smooth does not happen by itself after puberty." Nikita pondered the wisdom of going back into the bakery. "Here, follow me. Everyone eats at this place. Perhaps they would know of your friend." He beckoned, stepping away and gesturing at a doorway with his free hand.
*Damion narrowed his eyes, and debated just leaving the annoying Dou. In fact, he stood there for a moment longer, trying to snuffle his nose back in working order, but to no avail. He snorted a few more times, spraying a few near people with snot, before following after Nikita, grunting angrily. How he hated the city*
"Are you always like this?" Nikita walked into the bakery, headed for the counter. "Surely you know," He smiled at the boy behind the counter and pointed at two pieces of bread, "you catch more flies with honey!" The money passed hands without notice and Nikita asked about Sebastien's shop when he got his change.
*Damion grunted* "Who the hell wants flies anyway." *He mumbled, looking around. Pastries wasn't his thing, they didn't have enough meat in them, but he'd eat them if he had to. He crossed his arms over his chest again, gripping the paper tightly, ears laid back*
Niki thanked the young man and turned back to Damion. "Ought to be more thankful, if you ask me. Give me your paper. I will write the directions on it for you. Seems your Sebastien is a regular here, and his shop is not far." As he tugged on the paper, he held out the fresh bread with his free hand. "This is for you. Eat it yourself, or give to the man you're looking for. He'll appreciate it if you won't."
*Damion stared at him* "....I never asked for your help. I never asked for a pieceof bread. I never asked for your 'charity'. I can find it myself, now that I've heard the directions." *His ears were laid back, and he crossed his arms over his chest, snarling a bit. Who did this guy think he was?*
"In an ideal world, none of us would have to _ask_ for help. But then, in an ideal world, all of us would know how to accept it gracefully. Take the damn bread and give it to your medicine man then. It is not charity. It is a sop to my conscience for not holding your hand and walking you there!" With that Nikita stormed out of the bakery.
*Damion watched as the other stormed out, and he placed the bread onto the counter, before turning to head to Sebastians. He was still annoyed, highly, and he was sure he'd get attitude from Sebastian, and he wasn't looking forward to it*
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Posted: Fri Jul 29, 2005 9:33 am
By the time I was born, my father had killed 27 people.
He was very proud to tell me this story. He said that there was one for
every year I would live, because surely I would not live past 27- he would
make certain of it himself. He did not stop killing, of course; he died in
prison for his massacres three years ago, but his shadow still hangs heavily
over my head. I have turned 27 this year, and so here I sit in this bar,
drinking my wine and wondering if I will see 28. Papa was insane, yes, but
he always finished what he started.
I have been very lonely for some time. I had found a place with Sascha
Romanoff, the fallen angel with the icy blue eyes; I was a member of his
family, part of something larger than a single person. I had found someone
I cared to spend my time with, before our organization was attacked and
everything was destroyed. Within a matter of a few hours, there was nothing
left of C.E.L.L. and Sascha Romanoff was no where to be found. I found the
bodies of his lovely little sisters, torn to shreds...after this, I do not
remember what happened. Perhaps I wandered alone for a time, but all I can
remember is being cold.
Things begin to come clear again about five years ago. I have heard that
this is a common reaction to shock, losing yourself to hide from the
circumstances that have made things difficult. I found myself kneeling in
church and praying for a name I did not recognize- and then I was crying,
disturbing my neighbors in the pews as I realized that the Nikita who had
made my heart flutter terrifyingly in my stomach was gone.
I stayed with the church, after this. My clothing was quite ragged, but
Father Goddard was kind enough to see past my harsh state, and give me a
chance to become something alive once more. Once clean and fed, he was
startled at my ability to handle large amounts of administration...but no
one ever suspected the rank I held in C.E.L.L. Only Sascha and his sisters
knew, and perhaps my Nikita, but Niki was not there long enough to
understand that when Sascha was away my hands controlled the organization.
It is more than slightly comforting to be doing something useful again. I
am not an angel, and I do not have the strength of character or charisma
that Sascha possessed, but I have done my best to help this church.
I carry a gun now, Nikita, imagine that? Before, I was always assigned
bodyguards so that my shaking hands did not need to hold a weapon. Father
Goddard insisted, however, after the first time I was attacked in the
streets. I am taking care of myself. I do not like it, and it has driven
me to the glass of wine that keeps my hands from shaking each night, but
somehow I carry on.
Would you be proud of me, if you were here?
((Can delete iffn you want to rearrange, just wanted to make sure you saw ^_~ *snuggles*))
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