Re: .Kuragari. [Don't Post Yet]
There was complete silence in that room. Complete utter silence. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Of course, the room was filled with people. Over twenty of them. But nobody spoke. Nobody made a sound. It seemed as though nobody even breathed.
It wasn’t exactly the friendliest of atmospheres either. It seemed... cold. The air was thick with something like tension, so abundantly laced with fear you could almost taste it.
There were four grey walls, a ceiling and a floor. That was it, aside from the main feature. A gigantic oak table with a shine like liquid stood proudly as the centrepiece, held off the floor on four legs ending in carved, clawed feet. There were also chairs, lined up like a chorus line all the way around the edge. They matched the table, vaguely... but at the very head of the table, furthest from the steel door, was a throne-like chair. It was painted silver – or maybe it was silver – and navy cushions plumped it up considerably. It looked out of place, like a king amongst peasant villagers, or an orchid amongst dandelions. But despite its grandeur, there was something sinister about the chair; indeed, there was something sinister about the entire place. This throne was empty, and every single pair of fearful, dilated pupils was fixed on it.
Every chair (except, of course, the throne) was filled by the carriers of the said pupils. They were strangely similar: all were dressed in the same black suits, the same navy ties, the same shining shoes. They all had the same badge attached to their lapel. It was small and black, rimmed with gold, and decorated with a single ornate golden ‘S’. Every expression was the same. All hands were on the cool surface of the polished wood. Still nobody spoke, or moved. There was silence.
A pair of dark grey eyes moved sideways along the table, studying the hands that rested on the wood. One pair was shaking. The eyes halted on these hands and moved upwards agonisingly slowly to rest on the face. Such a cowardly face. It was so obvious... there’s betrayal written in his expression... such filth... how he longed to stamp them out, mutilate them until they were no more...
The eyes moved back down to the hands, and then slowly returned to the throne. The grey pits did nothing for the face which held them, but then again, the face wasn’t exactly one that seemed to bother about appearance. It was in no way ugly, but it was enough to make any man think about his next words. It was an intelligent face, if slightly frightening, framed with short brown hair with two long parts on either side at the front. The fathomless eyes were sealed behind rectangular glasses, which he pushed up his nose using his right ring finger. He was closest to the throne, seated on the chair to its immediate right. His gaze didn’t move from it. Like the others, his expression held fear, but not the same fear that the others were feeling.
Why is he late..?
He fell gradually into deep thoughts, although his impassive expression did not change. The man next to him glanced at the throne briefly; a soft clicking noise filled his ears as his head moved. He blinked slowly, his own dark, liquid eyes more restless than his neighbours. His appearance was also a lot more friendly-looking, although a lot more extravagant. Shiny black hair fell to below his shoulders and his skin was tanned, his features carved and handsome. Tiny feathers and wooden beads, which were obviously the source of the clicks, decorated his hair in small amounts, and his general air was one of relaxation.
One chair along, it was a different story. A youth was sprawled in the seat, so low down you could only see his eyes over the tabletop. He was obviously sulking. Large blonde spikes of hair exploded from his head in an extreme fashion, and his green eyes raked the faces of the people sitting opposite.
Stupid worshippers... what’s so great about that old guy anyway... heck, he must be at least thirty...
He sniffed loudly and sat up a little further, his face becoming visible. It was slightly childish, yet there was a cocky air of smugness around it. A white stick protruded from the corner of his mouth, which proved to be a lollypop of some sort.
I’m wasting my time here. I could be with the O.G’s down in the real side of town...
The atmosphere suddenly stiffened. Silent black flames had erupted in a circle around the throne. There were stifled cries of alarm from a few inexperienced people, but to others, including the three people on the right hand side, this was completely normal. Eyes brimming with anticipation were fixed on the circle of flames as they licked up the silver legs, embers shining, sparks flying. The man closest to the throne relaxed, his glasses shining white and blind in the shivering light of the fire.
The flames suddenly reared, then fell back. Dark smoke rose from the centre of the fiery ring, twisting and entwining around the throne. It gathered together on the plump seat, moulding together and becoming thicker and thicker. In a few moments, it changed completely; it was neither solid nor gas – not as thick as a solid, but not as thin as gas. It started to move in certain places until it was the exact shape of a human person. This eerie silhouette sat still for a few moments. All eyes in the room were fixated on it, as if expecting some explosion of some sort. But there was not. The smoke faded into facial features, into clothes, into limbs and a body, until a man sat calmly in the throne’s seat.
Once again, there was complete silence as every person in the room gazed with blank fixation upon the man. If you or I took a very quick, fleeting glance at this person, we would probably be under the impression that it was a very odd looking woman, but it was not. His elegant face was bloodless, his dark eyes slits. His navy hair was long and thin, easily brushing his slim waist. A dark blue robe clung to his frame, the sleeves only just showing his slender fingertips, and his small feet were bare, flat on the cold stone floor.
“... My Lord.”
The silence was finally broken. The man in glasses closest to the throne smiled and closed his eyes after speaking, bowing his head slightly.
“I was worried. You have never been late before.”
The man in the throne did not answer. A small smile tugged at the corners of his thin, cruel mouth as he turned his gaze upon him.
“Worried? That’s not like you, Aa... maybe you are becoming soft..?”
The man’s voice was so incredibly quiet that it kept breaking in the middle of words, yet every single person in the place heard him perfectly. Aa opened his eyes and raised his head, his cool grey eyes meeting the narrow black ones without fear.
“Soft? Of course not.” He brought his ring finger to the bridge of his nose and pushed up his glasses, the lenses flashing. “I merely wondered where you were.”
The man watched him thoughtfully.
“But, Aa... I am not a child. Must I seek your permission to go places..?”
“If you would consent to, My Lord, I would prefer it.” A smile passed his face once more, before he fell silent. The man, apparently a Lord of some kind, moved his sight across the people around the table. Some flinched, some looked away, and some met his gaze steadily. Sometimes, he would stop and gaze at a certain person for a while, before moving on. Under this scrutiny, some men would break down... as he knew they would.
“I’m sorry!” One man screamed suddenly, pushing back his chair with a scrape and throwing himself to his feet. “I’M SORRY!”
There was a stunned silence. The wretched follower stood there panting, sweating pouring down his face.
“Lord Obu,” He whispered. “Forgive me... you must forgive me...”
Obu’s dark eyes narrowed even more. He stared at the man with a completely impassive expression, but Aa, who was nearest, could feel the steady build up of rage radiating from his feminine stature.
“I must do nothing. You... betrayed me. You are filth.”
Aa smirked. Of course, this was the same man who he had noticed earlier. The one with the shaking hands, the guilty face. Of course he noticed him. He stank of treachery.
The man let out a moan and clutched at his head with both hands, his eyes wide with fear.
“They tortured me!” He cried, his chest heaving. “Forgive me, My Lord! Please!”
His voice rose to a shriek. Obu contemplated him for a few seconds, before slowly raising his right hand.
“... You shall do no more damage,” He said softly. His hand slowly clenched. Glowing ropes of blue aura twisted around his fist, and at the same time, around the man’s chest in the area of his heart. He screamed a terrible scream of anguish as Obu tightened his fist, which seemed to tick like a heartbeat. Seconds passed. The man’s face turned a dark red. His eyes rolled up in his head. Blue veins pulsed in his skin and neck.
“Filth,” Aa muttered happily, as the man slumped forward. He hit his head on the table on the way down. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Last edited by Tombi; 08-18-2008 at 07:36 PM.