Plotlogs
In Search Of The Shroud Sr Angelique 240121
The intense encounter unfolds in a serene bedroom where the mysteries of the supernatural become palpable. Angelique, speaking with the voice of an unseen entity, confronts Deacon with a fervent warning. Her words carry the weight of dire consequences, accusing a certain "she" of heartless deeds and countless ruined lives, highlighting her manipulative nature disguised as feminism. The entity warns Deacon against releasing the cursed woman, whose dark soul harbored untold destruction.
Deacon retorts coolly with arrogance born from divine lineage, his ambition veiled within his intention to satiate the restrained fury and pleasure. His plan to direct the chaos towards his advisories underscores his defiance. As tempers flare, Deacon receives a notification from his phone, discreetly prompting hope for assistance.
The exchange between Angelique and Deacon crescendos as threats intertwine with attempts to appeal to reason, each stance carved in obstinacy. Angelique, or rather the entity within, reveals itself to be the lingering coven bound to the very essence of their adversary, imparting a final plea to Deacon to reconsider his course.
Deacon, seemingly unshaken, questions the entity's nature while trying to break the spell through a physical shake. Despite the warnings cloaked in sympathy and fear, Deacon reluctantly acknowledges the possibility of truth in the premonitions while claiming a noncommittal stance. The unread alert from his phone remains, a testament to his suspicion and skepticism.
The entity, resigned, reiterates its determination to oppose Deacon's quest. Deacon's response, a mixture of sarcasm and annoyance, dismisses the entity's presence. In an atmosphere tinged with inevitable conflict, the coven controlling Angelique abandons its vessel. Angelique collapses, left in a heap, peacefully asleep, her consciousness free once more. The tension ebbs as Deacon is left to ponder the layers of truth and deception woven into the ominous prophecies he received.
(In Search of the Shroud(SRAngelique):SRAngelique)
[Sat Jan 20 2024]
In a luxurious yet comfortable master bedroom
This beautiful bedroom is spacious and well-lit, with large windows that offer plenty of natural light during the day and a beautiful view of the night sky at night. The walls are painted in a warm peach that creates an atmosphere that reminds of an Italian villa. Two french doors featuring massive glass windows set into white wood sit under a beautiful wooden arch, providing access to a balcony facing the ocean and the beach.
There is a cozy reading nook in the north western corner of the room, with a chaise lounge, a small side table, and an elegant floor lamp. A bookshelf next to the reading nook are filled with books of all kinds, though notably featuring fantasy, history and classic literature.
There is an antique oaken-wood desk set against the south eastern corner of the room, the large window behind giving a beautiful ocean view, with a comfortable armchair facing the closed macbook on top.
A luxuriant queen sized bed sits against the north of the room, between the reading nook to the north west and a massive wardrobe built into the east side of the northern wall. Flanked by two antique night stands featuring remotes and piled high with fluffy pillows and a thick, soft duvet it practically screams comfort. It offers a beautiful view of the ocean to the south through the various massive windows and, should that view bore, a remote controls a flat screen television that slides up and down into the ceiling, tucked away when not in use.
It is night, about 20F(-6C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(repost due to crash) "Don't be more of un idiota than you already are!" snaps Angelique's voice, as her eyes glint and glimmer with a borrowed anger. "You know the curse was put on her for good reasons!" There's a moment, where the entire conversation devolves into a spill of very, very angry Spanish, though it lacks the usual pouty stomp of a foot that should accompany it. "Do you think it is only one life that she took? So many have suffered in her wake, used and pushed aside, or treated cruelly until their hearts have broken. She is responsible for several lives lost and many more devastated, and it will only be -worse- if you free her there." There's a pause.
"You know already she's toyed with leading the Hand, si? You know she's toying with these girls, these young women. Do you think her feminism is altruism?" the being controlling Deacon's girlfriend's body rages. "Do you think she seeks to find them power for their own sake?"
"No, no I really don't" Deacon replies off-handedly and most likely to both questions. Then his eyes take on a colder light of their own, a certain arrogance that comes from being born from the lineage of a God. "Here's what I think. I think when I unleash all of that passion, and anger, and pleasure that you've locked away she's going to indulge. And I'm going to be there to gain. And then I'm going to put her YOUR direction. And march right along with her, oui? You come here, preach to me!?" He gestures at the woman who's being used as a voice by whatever entity comes knocking and his own ire comes spilling forth. "ME? I was punished simply for having my last name! I would have left well enough alone, hrm? But no ... they provoked me. And now you are doing the same. Hear me, witch! My true and honest advice to you. Leave well enough alone."
"Then you are ten times the fool!" hisses back the voice that is, and isn't Angelique's. "Ten times the fool for thinking you can control, let alone indulge! You do not understand the marks on her soul. The -depths- she will fall to! When you do? Claro que si, it will be too late. Pobre tonto..." There is, for a moment, a true depth of sympathy to that voice that it never, ever holds. For all the insults being slung, it seems that there's also true regret for what Deacon is doomed to face.
As the being within Angelique continues to try and reason with Deacon, there's an odd little sound, muffled by his pocket. Perhaps he's reached someone, after all.
Lifting a hand to point right at someone, Deacon flares nostril and intones toward the woman. "Who's the greater fool? The fool or the fool who listens to him? You've made your piece, now go." Beyond this, Deacon can't really check without trying to give away the goat so to speak so he leaves the phone in his pocket hoping that some sort of assistance will soon be forthcoming. "I'll choose her over faceless shadows, every day of the week." Perhaps he's being obtuse on purpose, to agitate the spirit? Or maybe he's just that dense.
Lifting a hand to point right at Angel, Deacon flares nostril and intones toward the woman. "Who's the greater fool? The fool or the fool who listens to him? You've made your piece, now go." Beyond this, Deacon can't really check without trying to give away the goat so to speak so he leaves the phone in his pocket hoping that some sort of assistance will soon be forthcoming. "I'll choose her over faceless shadows, every day of the week." Perhaps he's being obtuse on purpose, to agitate the spirit? Or maybe he's just that dense.
It's fair to assume which of those two options the currently possessed woman would like to believe, and which the spirit believes; clearly even in that, they don't agree. "Unleash her and you bring down far worse than what is already here," comes the warning again, before there's a startled sort of pause, and then a laugh.
It's amused, but it's not friendly. "We are not a ghost," Angelique tells Deacon. "No, no. It's in the magics, far deeper. She had Juana killed, but she didn't kill the magic. She -can't-. It's bound to her very essence." Again, there's a hint of sarcastic mirth, but despite that, there's still warning. "It isn't too late for you, Deacon Herveaux. Don't let it become too late..."
A frown comes from Deacon next, but then he's watching Angel fresh. "Thanks for that" he says all of the sudden, as the spirit of sorts will give something away after all. Then he's stepping forward and trying to reach out and grab the woman by the shoulder. "What are you, then?" He seems to truly want to know, despite trying to give the woman a little shake as if to try and shake off the spell.
"We are her coven," Angelique answers Deacon, but there's a slow, steady nod as if the being or beings behind this possession believe Deacon's gratitude is due to their warning. The Inigo woman's body is shaken, rocks with the movement, but doesn't seem to respond beyond a low, warned, "She will wake when we release her. She never remembers - it isn't often we have to do this, but sometimes..." Her dark head shakes with those words, loose hair falling across her face. "Sometimes it is necessary. This is one of those times. Deacon Herveaux, heed the warning, si?"
There is a long pause. a LONG pause. Then Deacon is stepping back from the woman with a reluctant step. "I hear your warning" he says, somewhat diplomatically as he regards the person as he might a stranger for the time being. "If there's real truth to it .. we'll see." That sounds genuine despite the begruding way he says it. Then he's taking the time to check his phone. No doubt an attempt to trap the spirit, or a comment on the failure of such an attempt. He only checks it long enough to determine that but then he's slipping it away. There's nothing else to do now except wait. "I promise nothing."
Deacon's phone reveals what he'd already recognized with his own eyes. This isn't a spirit, of the usual sort. But the bitterness and determination is just as real. Still, when the man concedes at least to stop returning threat for threat, there's another nod from the controlled woman, and then, "Very well, Deacon Herveaux. You have heard the warning." They seem resigned, as if pretty sure that Deacon isn't going to follow their suggestions. "If you continue on this path to freeing her, we -will- do all in our power to stop you."
"If you did anything less, you wouldn't be much of an adversary would you?" Deacon mutters mostly to himself, but he nods his head a little more sharply. "Then begone with you. Today is my day off." He sounds derisive but it's apurpose. He really does take something of offense to be robbed of his day off!
"Pobre tonto," the voice says, yet again. "We will hope you come to your senses before it's too late. It's already too late for many... and if that woman comes to power?" There's an expression that crosses the Inigo's face that's absolutely not one she usually makes: genuine distress. But they've said all there is to say, and Deacon's grumbling about days off is enough to make it clear that further discussion is unwelcome.
The body of Deacon's girlfriend goes still, shudders once, and then slumps to the floor in a loose-limbed, unconscious heap. She doesn't look comatose though; just sleeping.
Deacon retorts coolly with arrogance born from divine lineage, his ambition veiled within his intention to satiate the restrained fury and pleasure. His plan to direct the chaos towards his advisories underscores his defiance. As tempers flare, Deacon receives a notification from his phone, discreetly prompting hope for assistance.
The exchange between Angelique and Deacon crescendos as threats intertwine with attempts to appeal to reason, each stance carved in obstinacy. Angelique, or rather the entity within, reveals itself to be the lingering coven bound to the very essence of their adversary, imparting a final plea to Deacon to reconsider his course.
Deacon, seemingly unshaken, questions the entity's nature while trying to break the spell through a physical shake. Despite the warnings cloaked in sympathy and fear, Deacon reluctantly acknowledges the possibility of truth in the premonitions while claiming a noncommittal stance. The unread alert from his phone remains, a testament to his suspicion and skepticism.
The entity, resigned, reiterates its determination to oppose Deacon's quest. Deacon's response, a mixture of sarcasm and annoyance, dismisses the entity's presence. In an atmosphere tinged with inevitable conflict, the coven controlling Angelique abandons its vessel. Angelique collapses, left in a heap, peacefully asleep, her consciousness free once more. The tension ebbs as Deacon is left to ponder the layers of truth and deception woven into the ominous prophecies he received.
(In Search of the Shroud(SRAngelique):SRAngelique)
[Sat Jan 20 2024]
In a luxurious yet comfortable master bedroom
This beautiful bedroom is spacious and well-lit, with large windows that offer plenty of natural light during the day and a beautiful view of the night sky at night. The walls are painted in a warm peach that creates an atmosphere that reminds of an Italian villa. Two french doors featuring massive glass windows set into white wood sit under a beautiful wooden arch, providing access to a balcony facing the ocean and the beach.
There is a cozy reading nook in the north western corner of the room, with a chaise lounge, a small side table, and an elegant floor lamp. A bookshelf next to the reading nook are filled with books of all kinds, though notably featuring fantasy, history and classic literature.
There is an antique oaken-wood desk set against the south eastern corner of the room, the large window behind giving a beautiful ocean view, with a comfortable armchair facing the closed macbook on top.
A luxuriant queen sized bed sits against the north of the room, between the reading nook to the north west and a massive wardrobe built into the east side of the northern wall. Flanked by two antique night stands featuring remotes and piled high with fluffy pillows and a thick, soft duvet it practically screams comfort. It offers a beautiful view of the ocean to the south through the various massive windows and, should that view bore, a remote controls a flat screen television that slides up and down into the ceiling, tucked away when not in use.
It is night, about 20F(-6C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(repost due to crash) "Don't be more of un idiota than you already are!" snaps Angelique's voice, as her eyes glint and glimmer with a borrowed anger. "You know the curse was put on her for good reasons!" There's a moment, where the entire conversation devolves into a spill of very, very angry Spanish, though it lacks the usual pouty stomp of a foot that should accompany it. "Do you think it is only one life that she took? So many have suffered in her wake, used and pushed aside, or treated cruelly until their hearts have broken. She is responsible for several lives lost and many more devastated, and it will only be -worse- if you free her there." There's a pause.
"You know already she's toyed with leading the Hand, si? You know she's toying with these girls, these young women. Do you think her feminism is altruism?" the being controlling Deacon's girlfriend's body rages. "Do you think she seeks to find them power for their own sake?"
"No, no I really don't" Deacon replies off-handedly and most likely to both questions. Then his eyes take on a colder light of their own, a certain arrogance that comes from being born from the lineage of a God. "Here's what I think. I think when I unleash all of that passion, and anger, and pleasure that you've locked away she's going to indulge. And I'm going to be there to gain. And then I'm going to put her YOUR direction. And march right along with her, oui? You come here, preach to me!?" He gestures at the woman who's being used as a voice by whatever entity comes knocking and his own ire comes spilling forth. "ME? I was punished simply for having my last name! I would have left well enough alone, hrm? But no ... they provoked me. And now you are doing the same. Hear me, witch! My true and honest advice to you. Leave well enough alone."
"Then you are ten times the fool!" hisses back the voice that is, and isn't Angelique's. "Ten times the fool for thinking you can control, let alone indulge! You do not understand the marks on her soul. The -depths- she will fall to! When you do? Claro que si, it will be too late. Pobre tonto..." There is, for a moment, a true depth of sympathy to that voice that it never, ever holds. For all the insults being slung, it seems that there's also true regret for what Deacon is doomed to face.
As the being within Angelique continues to try and reason with Deacon, there's an odd little sound, muffled by his pocket. Perhaps he's reached someone, after all.
Lifting a hand to point right at someone, Deacon flares nostril and intones toward the woman. "Who's the greater fool? The fool or the fool who listens to him? You've made your piece, now go." Beyond this, Deacon can't really check without trying to give away the goat so to speak so he leaves the phone in his pocket hoping that some sort of assistance will soon be forthcoming. "I'll choose her over faceless shadows, every day of the week." Perhaps he's being obtuse on purpose, to agitate the spirit? Or maybe he's just that dense.
Lifting a hand to point right at Angel, Deacon flares nostril and intones toward the woman. "Who's the greater fool? The fool or the fool who listens to him? You've made your piece, now go." Beyond this, Deacon can't really check without trying to give away the goat so to speak so he leaves the phone in his pocket hoping that some sort of assistance will soon be forthcoming. "I'll choose her over faceless shadows, every day of the week." Perhaps he's being obtuse on purpose, to agitate the spirit? Or maybe he's just that dense.
It's fair to assume which of those two options the currently possessed woman would like to believe, and which the spirit believes; clearly even in that, they don't agree. "Unleash her and you bring down far worse than what is already here," comes the warning again, before there's a startled sort of pause, and then a laugh.
It's amused, but it's not friendly. "We are not a ghost," Angelique tells Deacon. "No, no. It's in the magics, far deeper. She had Juana killed, but she didn't kill the magic. She -can't-. It's bound to her very essence." Again, there's a hint of sarcastic mirth, but despite that, there's still warning. "It isn't too late for you, Deacon Herveaux. Don't let it become too late..."
A frown comes from Deacon next, but then he's watching Angel fresh. "Thanks for that" he says all of the sudden, as the spirit of sorts will give something away after all. Then he's stepping forward and trying to reach out and grab the woman by the shoulder. "What are you, then?" He seems to truly want to know, despite trying to give the woman a little shake as if to try and shake off the spell.
"We are her coven," Angelique answers Deacon, but there's a slow, steady nod as if the being or beings behind this possession believe Deacon's gratitude is due to their warning. The Inigo woman's body is shaken, rocks with the movement, but doesn't seem to respond beyond a low, warned, "She will wake when we release her. She never remembers - it isn't often we have to do this, but sometimes..." Her dark head shakes with those words, loose hair falling across her face. "Sometimes it is necessary. This is one of those times. Deacon Herveaux, heed the warning, si?"
There is a long pause. a LONG pause. Then Deacon is stepping back from the woman with a reluctant step. "I hear your warning" he says, somewhat diplomatically as he regards the person as he might a stranger for the time being. "If there's real truth to it .. we'll see." That sounds genuine despite the begruding way he says it. Then he's taking the time to check his phone. No doubt an attempt to trap the spirit, or a comment on the failure of such an attempt. He only checks it long enough to determine that but then he's slipping it away. There's nothing else to do now except wait. "I promise nothing."
Deacon's phone reveals what he'd already recognized with his own eyes. This isn't a spirit, of the usual sort. But the bitterness and determination is just as real. Still, when the man concedes at least to stop returning threat for threat, there's another nod from the controlled woman, and then, "Very well, Deacon Herveaux. You have heard the warning." They seem resigned, as if pretty sure that Deacon isn't going to follow their suggestions. "If you continue on this path to freeing her, we -will- do all in our power to stop you."
"If you did anything less, you wouldn't be much of an adversary would you?" Deacon mutters mostly to himself, but he nods his head a little more sharply. "Then begone with you. Today is my day off." He sounds derisive but it's apurpose. He really does take something of offense to be robbed of his day off!
"Pobre tonto," the voice says, yet again. "We will hope you come to your senses before it's too late. It's already too late for many... and if that woman comes to power?" There's an expression that crosses the Inigo's face that's absolutely not one she usually makes: genuine distress. But they've said all there is to say, and Deacon's grumbling about days off is enough to make it clear that further discussion is unwelcome.
The body of Deacon's girlfriend goes still, shudders once, and then slumps to the floor in a loose-limbed, unconscious heap. She doesn't look comatose though; just sleeping.