Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-28718853-20170729111129/@comment-30014014-20170815091341

He was to present something important to Seria this night. Something that had her heart wince in anticipation. Her hands clattered on her chest, grasping her elegant one-piece adorned by flowers. The frontal headguard coated in purple and adorned by two etches reaching for a symbol of olive branches did naught to hinder the peerless visage full of emotion visioneered in her amethyst eyes. Surrounded by a shimmering grayish pigment, they sparked in his direction, especially gazing at his hidden hand.

...and they ruined it. Ruined this moment sacred to monsters so often taken for granted by human women. Her maiden's heart in raging flames, Seria never the less kept her demeanor.

"I am s'rry, but this sir is already relinquish'd to me. I asketh of thee to leaveth us beest".

Her voice is silver lining to the imprudent response given by the one holding the revolver.

"Huh, 'scuse me, wierdo! This wasn't a demand!"

She twirls the barrel a bit, swaying between Serial and Jacob, her other hand clutching her barely present skirt, threatening to remove the little obstacle that lingers between it and her underwaer. The three others, tasting the sensation already of a man with them, were instantly in the mood, some opting to further remove their skimpy dresses.

Jacob, feeling rather unconfortable by the spectacle, sways his head in the other direction, only to be teased by the leader, Melissa.

"Come on boy! Four ladies antsy to be ravished by your manliness. You don't need to hide your desire~

She was mistaken. There was a blush, but mirrored away from her. He had the flames of passion fanned, but they were all directed ay his beloved, Seria.

"Beloved, art thee humour good now?"

Her voice has quickly disminished his discomfort, prompting his eyes to turn to her own.

"It's fine, they're not really bothering me"

Seria gives him a gentle smile as a hand goes to reach her cheek. His hand. She blushes a bit more, grossly evident by the contrast of her gray pigment.

"Hey boy! Why don't you look over here right now?"

Melissa's voice shatters their imaginary bubble, insulted by his blatant ignorance of her and her three acolytes. They were slowly preparing themselves for him and he had the nerve to ignore them? The best looking girls of the bloc, and this whimpy boy had the nerve to discard them four. ANd for what? A plain-looking woman speaking in a different tone than them? Is this what pushed him away from them? No matter. He'll see his mistake soon enough...

Jacob turns back to them, seeing all licking their faces in hunger whilst Melissa now ferocely ha her revolver armed in his direction. Her face was a dichotomy of everlasting lust and uncontrollable anger.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Seria stares at the woman and her pack with a more present anger, one that used to be within. A shimmer of purple lightning escapes her irises. Despite that, she still clings to her calm temper, speaking with a mild voice.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Unf'rtunately, mine own belov'd doest not feeleth the desire to mingle with the four of thee. I kindly asketh yond thee leaveth us high-lone".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa's answer comes in the form of a bullet grazzing her headguard. By the side as her head had quickly strayed to the right. HEr eyes rivered to the fleeting projectile, they slowly and menacingly return to the shooter, who had just about enough of her quiet demands.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Listen, harlot" We happen to be usually docile women, what with our status demanding an upstanding demeanor at all time. But right now, we are in our need! Surely a wench like yourself can understand that, right? Us human women have needs to, you know?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Every word spoken by Melisa and her nodding pack stings Seria with pure hypocrisy, her eyes growing less and less restrained. Upstanding women? Them? Usually, upstanding women don't belittle people of different social status.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa continues to waver her weapon, speaking in an entitled tone.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Just because you monster harlots have some need to gourge of men more than us normal women, does not mean you can go taking them from us, you hear!?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Upstanding women don't go around untactly stealing loved ones with low tactics for a quick satisfation, only to discard them with a threat. Speaking of monsters taking advantage of their position was a mighty rich statement from the pack who go for a one-night stand with engaged or married men, just for a cheap thrill. One that further enthralls Serial in her less-than-desirable traits.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Wings began to sprout from her back.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">One...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...two...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...three on one side.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">One...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...two...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...three on the other. They glow with silver lining like her own pigmentation. Her growing fury, a calm storm hidden in Melissa's eyes.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"So now, since we feel like going for a man right now, you will promptly back the hell off! Like, right now! We're done playing second fiddle to whores and skanks using their extra appendages as an excuse!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">And this happened to be the last straw. Calling Seria and her fellow such degrading names, when most of them have been to hell and back to showcase their sincere want for a boontiful relationship with one's beloved. To dare minimize their feelings when them, especially she of all people had shown an incredible restraint against her more...wild side. To call out someone on past behavior the clearly try to suppress until the rigjht time when Melissa and her pack themselves were doing the tota; opposite...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Serial had it not easy. Being who she is, it was hard for her to focus on other things that would allow her to find a soulmate. ONe she could pride herself in catching in a legitimate manner, in the humans' way. Jacob had helped her so much with these endeavors, seeing beyond her first issues. Letting a pack of spoiled hypocrites use her as an excuse to dance around men for the sake of a cheap thrill and making a mockery of a monster'S foremost importance of having someone dear close to them.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">This was literally impossible for her to watch being defiled.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">A singulary beacon of amethyst energy bursts out of her entire being, violently pushing the four against the roof. Armor materialize around her, as simply as elegantly, all vibrating in the purple. Jacob shakes his head in denial, staring at them with a restrained scorn, one but fleeting.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Well, you have done it now".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Done what!?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"You'll see..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa quickly gets up, pointing her gun at an armored Seria. Six wings strerch out of her back, a sword with the hilt of a face of mockery on it. The blade is twisted in silver with a outer lining of demonic energy, solidified around it like a carapace. A shield left untouched in the vestige of her kind. Braced with two larged olive branches, large like a tower. ONe she lifts with unnatural ease.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa's eyes widen in the same time as Seria's wings, blotting out the moon hooked in the sky. Her hand begins to tremble, just realizing, unlike most people who would have backed off early, that she was a monster. Power does tend to over the head of some.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"S-stay back!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her hand shakes more, throwing off her aim in an subconscious fear. Fear like a prey starring deeply in the eyes of a predator. Knowing it watches it. Feeling the eyes locked on its very being, with the tiniest of movement risking of springing the hulking beast for its prize.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa became the prey and she knew it. Her, and her trio. The same who began losing their composure.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Jacob, on the other hand, could not feel anymore relieved that the tables had completely turned. Not that he was feeling in danger to begin with. No, this was more of a satisfactory sensation of a karmic return tenfold.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"B-boy...c-could you ask your har--girlfriend to settle own? W-we just wanted to have some fun, is all".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Terribly sorry. but to a warrior like her, a blatant disregard like you lot did won't be settled with mere words. Just ask the last guys who tried to pull off an extortion before her eyes".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa's blood froze upon hearing his words, as of her pack. The latter slowly stepping back. Only to hear a slice in the air. Seria's sword had swung, a clear distortion present before her, aimed at the lot.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay, nay, nay. Thee three did want to seeth one liketh me act as such. Thee has't mine own attention anon".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa hurridly unloads her gun's contents straight at Seria, which break in pieces upon contacting her armor. They shatter in such way that nothing but star dust remains of them, shimmering around the struk plates. Seria's eyes had completely lost their irise, drowned in the power she holds inside. Her weapon, pointed at the woman on the left.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Thee first..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Charlotte, a bronze woman not afraid of using her unusual strength within her position to her what she wants, no matter how bad it may bode for the other. In a flash, Seria presents herself before her, a series of broken tiles hovering in the air yet to fall. The green clothed woman falls on her rump, now fully terrified of what lingers before her. No might comes to preserve her as Seria simply places a hand on her head. One Charlotte desperatly tried to remove, falling on that force of her.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">But she might as well have tried to steal an item clutched by a statue, she'd have a better chance.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Tears fall in a continious state across her twisted face as she is lifted by the skull, unscathed but utterly powerless to defend herself against whatever her executioner had in store. Her terror takes complete hold of her as she starts begin for her life, to the three other's complete dismay, adding more to the realization they had opened pandora's box.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Charlotte, unable to withstand Seria's gaze anymore, falls in shock, pale skin shrouding her. Her body dangles like a corpse, horrifying the rest, even with the notion she is far from dead. Her pathetic state of total mental annihilation is presented to them with Seria's cold gaze glaring at her second victim.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Thou art next..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Dropping the comatosed Charlotte, Seria takes a flash step, blotting her secondary victim's sight, Clairice. She with the tendency of making a mockery of those with a different shape, always belittling them from high up. And yet...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Clarice, shaken by her sudden appareance, falls over, crawling back, terrified of what may happen to her. Stranded away from her usual composure, she blots her ears, wanting to save herself as much as possible, forgetting the monstorous might of her tormentor. The one that easily takes her hand apart fro the ears, accompanied by a frosted gaze.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Now I see..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"S-see what?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Clarice couldn't help but answer, dashing her doom.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"With a unsav'ry corse liketh yours, thee needeth to 'rase the oth'r's confidence"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Clarice's heart wince in pain. The last thing she wanted to hear from anyone. The reason she always sought to demolish an individual's sense of worth...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"That's not true..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay wond'r the notion of someone liketh me 'round, alloweth high-lone any of mine own kind scares thee so...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"That's not true...!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Seria's gaze breaks any held confidence in the plain Clarice, plain of any feature that might etch her as a woman, smaller than others. Less developed than others. Her poisoned words to puppeteer the rest through a broken perception. Now returned against her.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"...with a corse liketh this, thee'd needeth tend'r w'rds to draweth someone to thee. But thy tongue is lac'rating, makinf t hard f'r oth'rs to misseth thy enfeebl'd features"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"That's not true!!!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"And anon, thee has't to bid yourself, is the one thee calleth melissa a parteth of those ridiculing thee?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Stop it!!!!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Clarice broke down in tears, her shriveled shameful secret out in the open, hidden by so many's broken confidence. The mirror had done well to reflect that to her.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Unable to stop crying, her drool riddled face sought comforting words, fleeting away from Seria who had long let go of her hands. SHe burries her face on Melissa's short skirt, whimpering in force.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"She's wrong, isn't she?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa does not answer. Her tongue frozen. Clarice insists.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm not ugly, right?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">No answer from her. Nothing.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm not a shrivel of a girl, right?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Again, nothing.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"You're not speaking on m-my...my back...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...right?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">At this point, the lack of words ironically provides the answers she so feared. Her eyes lost their light, causing her to lose grip on Melissa, sliding down her legs. Her body moves on its own, compacting her in a fetus position, her outlandish crying halted but streaming still. Seria's gaze turned to her next victim, unaltered as always.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I believeth t is thy turneth..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Laura, the third of the pack, glimmers in her everlasting ornaments in the form of necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings. Alas, this sense of valuables has cornered her heart, having her often resort to humiliate any non-complying with volatile threats of ruinous acts from her with the wealth she carries, present in her ornaments.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Useless here.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Seria faces her, swiping a hand in her direction. Laura braces for a strike, afraid of the pain forthcoming. Nothing happens. No hit is inflicted upon her. No, rather, it would seem she was missing something.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"My earrings! My bracelets, my necklace! Where have they--

<p style="font-weight:normal;">She realized what was happening. Looking back at Seria, she discovered her hands full of the things she wanted back, previously embellishing her. Seria crooks her head to the left, brandishing her necklace.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Doth thee wisheth to recup'rate thy beloning?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">No words come from Laura, well aware of her intentions. Her gaze washes over her, waiting an answer or lack of. Her hand started clenching while still holding her necklace. Laura's eyes widen in astounishment.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Don't crack it!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Ohh? i hadst bethought thee didn't wanteth those folk backeth?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Please, don't damage them! I-I'll give you money!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Ohh very much?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Any amount!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Tell me".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Thousands!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Ten of thousands?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Hundreds of thousands?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Millions?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Billions!?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"B-but--

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Nay, nay, nay. If 't be true thee wanteth those folk so much...then stripeth"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"What?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Laura gawked in shock, clenching her shoulders in defiance to the unfaltering look of Seria who promplty repeated herself.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I hath asked thee to stripeth"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"B-but"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Laura's myriadic desire to get her accessories back was halted by a wall of uncertainty.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Why? Why do I need to strip?!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Thee did express the wish to mingle with mine own dearest, making light of how private a mistress's corse shouldst beest, eveall'd to none but those they love. Since thee wast easily prone to strip back those folk, i taketh t thee'd beest willing to doth so f'r thy accessories".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Laura says nothing, still clutching on her cloth. Her mind races on the myriad of times she had easily exposed herself alongside Melissa, Claire and Charlotte. The amount of men who had basked in her luscious body, now soiled by the eyes who had seen it. She realized how nigh impossible it would be for her to present herself to a future suitor. Even more so if she wanted a decent one, with the reputation she had built as a blackmailer and a loose one.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">And now, she was about to do as such again.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">With tears and lament falling down her face, Laura slowly removed her already skimpy dress, again, stinging her with how granted she took herself for. Bit by bit, she exposes herself, sniffing all the way through, looking at her falling pieces of lingerie. Her head rises up, but her eyes are diverted, too ashamed to look her interlocuter. Her hands are feebly risen as well.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"H-here..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Laura can feel the weight of her things in her palms. SHe looks at them with discontent. Her body's reflexes prompt her to put them on, restarting her cries, albeit in silence. Her eyes dare raise up to meet Seria's, only to be presented with a mirror, detailling her nude appareance, littered in gold and gems. Once again, she cries, falling on her knees, grabbing the scraps of cloth dropped earlier to try and cover herself with. And failing at that.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">One is in a comatose over the notion of someone better than her. Another is shivering over her broken psyche. The third one realized she may have said goodbye to a spouse's life for greed.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">All that's left is the Melissa. Speaking of the devil, Seria feels a pair of hands on her waist guards. Looking down, she sees the former in a fear struck visage, desperately clinging to her would-be tormentor. Seria's gaze weights a ton, enfeebling her further.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Please...spare me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Art thee?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa nods with excess, trembling across her arms. Too bad.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I see..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa feels Seria's word with a relief. She dares to hope, for her tormentor must be satiated, right? Three women linger in her aftermath, it must be enough. A tint of laughter escape's melissa's lips, her hands soon leaving her waist guards. Relief comes as she falls on her back, sighting all the more.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">And just like that, her back is laying on the tiles, surrounded by more broken pieces of the same decoration, causing her eyes to widen. She doesn't understand what happened, looking left and right, her back crippled by pain. Her attemps to get up, cancelled by two separate weight of her wrists.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">A purple gaze haunts her face. An angry, but placid one.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Anon thee apologize, at which hour thou art did face with the consequence of thy act..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa struggles, forgetting a monster can easily produce ten time her might. And seria was naught but a mundane monster to begin with

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"...but what about then, at which hour thee brand'd a weapon at mine own belov'd. Just to has't thy way with him, in defiance of his shall?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm sorry!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa begins to cry, shocked to feel her attire slowly ripped apart.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"How many times has't thee inflict'd this to another?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm sorry!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her leggings are torn.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"How many times?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm sorry!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her short shirt is ripped apart, stripping away at her dignity.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"How many?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'm sorry!!!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her skirt is shredded, breaking more of her dignity.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"How many has't been did scar by this thee've done? Men, distaff, nothing moo than playthings f'r thee?"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Please forgive me! I won't do it again! Please!!!"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her underwear is gone. Melissa is completely nude. Humiliation and scorn populates her mind as she seeks to cover herself as best she can.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">However, her arms are thrown aside with Seria leaning closer, sword in hand. Melissa trembles to such a point someone could literally think she's shivering in the cold. Primal fear haunts her every inch of her body. No mind is spared from this either, seeing the jagged thing near her stomach. Seria could so easily thrust once and it'd be over.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">She is well aware of this.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Melissa is painfully aware of this. And, there is nothing she can do about it.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Absolutely nothing.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">The blade runs over her exposed belly, sliding off at the surface. Slowly, pressed to the very limit provided by her mamono instincts. Melissa can feel that it's at the very edge.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Recall yond humour..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">The blade runs back, never pressing further than needed acrosse her belly.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"...the next time thee'll point a weapon at someone..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">The cold blade runs on her again.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"...f'r the next person thee doth this to may not has't mine own mercy"

<p style="font-weight:normal;">The blade goes for her throat, pressed slightly against it. No words. No whimper. Nothing.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">" Recall yond humour..."

<p style="font-weight:normal;"> Slowly, Seria discard her weapon away from Melissa, too much in shock to be cognitive at the moment. She lays there, immobile, right as her tormentor walks away, back to the man she was leaning on beforehand. What thought litters her head as of now? Who knows...

<p style="font-weight:normal;"> Jacob, walking his lady walking back to him couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

<p style="font-weight:normal;"> "That was...something. DIdn't think you teach them like this".

<p style="font-weight:normal;"> " Me neither, but they wenteth after mine own most lief thing. And i couldn't alloweth those folk speaketh like yond to anyone else. No more".

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I know, don't worry."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Her armor fades away, leaving the previous dress she was seen with. Her head leans on his shoulder, his hand accoasting her hip. His other hand, unraveling a tiny box. One she didn't think she'd see today of all days. Even less after the confrontation...