Page is a WIP
All around me darkness gathers; fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters; you can be me when I’m gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning, afternoon they blossom on.
Still are withered in the evening; you can be me when I’m gone.
Legion
ˈlējən
a vast host, multitude, or number of people or things.
great in number.
A man known by many names, seen as many entities, existing in many places.
But also, a man.
Legion does not know when he began. If asked, he could not tell you who (what) he is. Legion is a plaything to the devil. He is an older brother to twin demons. He is an (ex)lover of the god Apep. He is the best friend of Time itself; immortal, to a point. He can die. He just won’t stay dead.
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Where do you begin with a man who has no history? Or, rather, with a man who has no beginning?
Legion was not really… ‘born.’ One could say he was created, but it is more accurate to say he just appeared one day, bursting through the shadows like bats from a cave. He was probably around at the very crest of time, although no one could say for sure – not even himself, as he has no memory of his early life. Sometimes he remembers little things during quiet, lonely nights, like the vast, empty feeling of stillness before there was wind, or the feeling of endless wind before there were trees and land and water to disrupt it. His memories escape him, though. There’s so much to remember when you’re so old.
He knows he had made a home in Hell, before there was a devil. He believes, perhaps wrongly, that Hell once belonged to him, that he created it to live in when there was nowhere else to exist. He had been a ruler, once. A creator of things and places. An amorphous creature with powers beyond comprehension.
But now, he is just a man.
He knows also that he became a favorite toy of Lucifer’s when the angel fell from Heaven and stole Hell from him, guided by the power of a god Legion didn’t worship. He lived and he died. He reincarnated. He was at the mercy of the whims of the Lightbringer. That is, until Legion made the decision to adopt two unbearably annoying, mischievous, obnoxious little twin demons as his sisters. Creatures so exhausting and so unwilling to die and stay dead that they were banished from Hell to walk the Earth, Legion with them. Of course, he was welcome back any time. Without them.
Legion’s time on earth, some might say, has been rocky. Though his sisters were by his side for some of it, he was more often alone, and preferred it that way. Having no place to go, he wandered the earth for millenia. It’s hard to kill a creature like him, and he simply kept on living, never aging. Falling in love and out of it. The thing about living so much life for so long, is that you often become bitter. And if you don’t become bitter, you love more deeply than anyone you could ever know. Legion has been both of these people.
There is a lot of life to fit into the story of him. His most recent escapade ended, like most of the others, in tragedy. Deeply, madly, painfully in love with Apep, the god of chaos, he had chosen a life for himself at the side of the snake, against the Sun God, desperate for the life they could build together. No one had done for him what Apep had. He had felt rescued. Hell, the god had eaten Lucifer. For him.
And then, Apep died.
Or, rather, he was killed. Destroyed by his own family, murdered for his plot against the Sun. Legion fell into disrepair. He grieved in the only way he knew how: withering away. A catatonic state. Becoming one with the shadows. Starving to death.
Oh, death. Oh, what bliss.
When Legion dies, he changes. Over time, over many deaths, his memory fades away, until he remembers only a couple of his past lives. He takes a new name, a new appearance, and begins life anew. Sometimes with the memories and personality of his previous self. Often, there are alterations. He remembers Apep. Remembers the muscle of arms around him while they stood upon the beach. Remembers the elation he felt when Apep asked him if they shouldn’t live together, in a towering castle in the middle of the Irish moors, away from each of their troubles. Remembers the fear and exhilaration he felt as the god pressed a knife to his neck in a playful, sadistic manner. He remembers that their love burned quick and fast and hot, not like a candle but like a struck match. Knows that now, it’s over. Now, his name has changed. His face, too. Knows he is no longer the same.
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Legion Lucifai
He doesn’t know what he is, but he calls himself a demon. After all, he is not the devil, and he is from hell. With no other words to describe him, and with striking similarities to other creatures of the same name, this is how he prefers to identify. After all, Legion eats humans to survive. Blood, bones, skin, soul and all. What is more demonic than that?
Legion can go a very long time without food, if he trains for it. Typically, he prefers to eat every couple of weeks. In previous lives, when he was stronger and when he had more power, he could live for years, even decades at a time without consuming anything. These days, he is not the same creature he was then, and he simply must have nourishment, or he becomes ravenous and weak. When not consuming food for sustenance, however, Legion prefers sweet things to eat. Human food does nothing for him, except that he likes the taste of it. Ice cream is his favorite.
In the same vein, human vices do nothing for him except act as a comfort. Legion smokes because it hurts his lungs. He drinks because it burns. If he does enough of one drug, he will begin to feel something.
Legion appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stands at a moderate 6’3 when he looks like a human. Sometimes, he appears to be shorter. Though he does have a demonic form, he has found very little reason to actually use it, and so it remains essentially useless to him. His hair is the deepest brown; without direct sunlight, it appears black. His skin is ghostly pale, and his nails are often black and mildly pointed. He prefers the aesthetics of black clothing to almost all else, though he will sport a white shirt now and again, if the vibe calls for it. The only thing about his appearance that doesn’t change with his reincarnations are his eyes. They are black through and through, from pupil to sclera, with only a thin red ring around his iris. He sports deep bruising beneath his eyes, dark purple and blue, the bruising of a lobotomy victim. He hides his eyes beneath sunglasses for the part. Once upon a time, he had wings.
Legion is a playful and somewhat sarcastic character. Most often, he comes off as aloof and flirtatious (both things he actually is) but with a temper. He tries very hard to keep his cool, but it is in his demonic nature to run hot. He is exceptionally kind until he isn’t, playful to an alarming degree, and enjoys spending time with animals.
Legion is a musician. Actually, the better description of him would probably be a singer. He fell into the job after giving up his position in a large local drug ring, realizing that the high of performing on a stage for an enraptured crowd vastly outweighed selling drugs to rich snobs. Legion craves the attention of an enamored audience. His pop-punk style of both music and clothing earns him plenty of fans, and the tabloid stories of his rendezvous with both men and women keep them interested. His fanbase is small, and though he is considered more underground than mainstream, the fans are loyal. He has gained a cult following over the years. It is said that his music can change lives. People leave the concerts feeling more pleasured than when they came in. The feeling, they say, is addicting.
He lives in a London flat by himself. When not preparing for a performance, Legion often sleeps his days away and stalks out into the dark for the London nightlife. His natural way of consuming food is very conducive to night owl behavior.
Fun Facts:
Likes
Cats, flowers, sharp things, ice cream, shitty Chinese food, most men, fierce and powerful women, arguably bad animated movies, rain, the cold, cigarettes, bonfire smoke, iced coffee, scalding hot showers, blatant flirting, the taste of Vampire blood
Dislikes
Most dogs, most animal meat, hot coffee, yelling matches, vibrant colors, licorice, bitter foods, loneliness, injustice
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NPCs that often show up in Legion’s stories. Some of these characters I have written separately and others are only ever written with the purpose of advancing plot for Legion.
Anna
Legion’s manager and a siren. Anna has been around for as long as Legion has been making music. He saved her once, and since then they have been close friends. When he decided to quit his drug business and pursue music instead, Anna was the first to support his decision and help him grow his presence in the music industry. He doesn’t make any career decisions without her input. She manages all of his appointments, from modeling to interviews to concerts. Although she is a strict manager, she would never put Legion in a position that is too uncomfortable for him. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him. Anna is married to a gorgon woman, Navy.
Aki
Legion’s little sister. Aki presents herself as a thirteen year old girl with white skin, long black hair (picture The Ring), and a thin, emaciated body. She has fascinating eyes – silver most of the time, but opalescent when she’s using powers. She has no interest in love, relationships, or even, really, friendships. She is as creepy as a child can get, and although she appears as a teenager, her behavior often makes her seem much younger. It is important to note that despite this appearance, Aki is almost as old as her brother. She is the definition of evil and annoying. She loves causing mischief, murdering people (and animals!), and terrorizing humans. She carries around a puppet-like doll with her who holds a scythe called Mr. Happy. Some people say Mr. Happy is alive.
Aki is the twin sister of Keller, a beautiful blond-haired banshee. Aki loves her sister and her brother more than anything else in the world. Unlike Legion, she will kill upon the slightest inconvenience.
(Aki is my own character, but Keller is not, so she is not available to write or play at all.)
Lucifer
The devil. The lightbringer. The morningstar. Lucifer has always had an obsession with the demon. Their relationship is complicated. Legion is branded with Lucifer’s sigil, although what the angel really wants with him is hard to say for sure. Once upon a time, Legion was stronger than Lucifer, held more power over him. Now? Well, now it’s the other way around. Legion is Lucifer’s slave. Lucifer uses him as a toy, a sexual release, a punching bag.
Apep did eat him. Although Lucifer can regenerate and is immortal, it will take a while for him to return.
Uriel
In the 1980s, Legion (who went by a different name, Cassius) was considered a growing rockstar to rival other large bands at the time. He had the stage presence, the appearance, and gave just enough of a glance into his life that tabloids and fans thought he was scandalous and fascinating. However, all of that changed after he met Uriel. A man who had come to his shows, wormed his way into the demon’s life, and eventually into his heart. But Uriel’s intentions were cruel. Slowly, he dismantled everything Cassius had worked for, including his house, his job, and his friends. Uriel wanted the man all to himself, and he succeeded. After this, the tables turned. The sweet man Cassius thought he knew shed his skin to show a monster beneath it. Everything about him was swift, abusive, vicious. Cassius had never been more terrified of an angel.
Their break up was hard and left him with nothing. It almost ended his life. Uriel, being an angel, is equally as immortal as Legion, though the demon hasn’t seen Uriel since their relationship ended. Some pieces of it still haunt him, especially knowing that, somewhere, Uriel is lurking.
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About the Writer:
Hi! My name is Micajah (they/them). I'm 28 and a grad student in Library Science. I've been writing since 2007 (16 years!!!) but have had a rocky last few years. I haven't consistently written since 2020ish. You might know me from Rolepages or Faeries and Vampires (if you're OG)!
This is my second account :) Other account: https://wrealms.com/members/themoon
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
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Roger & Legion
Though it may not have appeared that he was paying much heed to Legion's out loud thinking, Roger did catch on to a few choice words that he happened to hear while he was resting. Somewhat troubling ones at that. The man let out a muffled, almost irked sounding groan. "Of course I'm human..." he grumbled, all while keeping his head low on the table's surface. "What else d'you think I'd be? Crazy eyed bugger like yourself?" A light scoff left him. "I don't mean offense, of course. You're just so strange with your whole...bein' made up of smaller things. What the hell are you?"
He remained quiet for a moment after he asked that question. Nearly did he doze off once or twice, but the ongoing conversation was bothering him enough to keep him awake. Particularly the mention of a gift. "Ugh." The suggestion that he had some sort of otherworldly power got him to look up slightly. "Don't answer that..." he warned before going on to the next topic. "What gift? If I've got the future sight it's more of a...c-curse than anything..."
Down went his head on the table again. He really felt groggy and a little unwell. If one thing was certain, it was that additional drinks would absolutely not be ordered tonight. And that was especially the case as Legion was offering to drag him home. "Mmph..." Roger stayed put at first, stubborn about moving. But then he eventually conceded to the idea. "Ah, fine. If I'm gonna...pass out, then it might as well not be at a bloody Mad Jack's..." His attention was on the other once more. As far as it could be through a bit of a blurry drunken haze, at least. "Did you bring a car here? Do you...drive?"
He almost made a joke about the possibility of the man sprouting devil wings and flying him back to his place, but a gut feeling was telling him to hold his tongue. Even if it was sort of difficult to stop rambling at this point.
Her thoughts were all over the place when it came to the person standing in front of her. His scent was driving her mind mad, trying to place what it was. Was he immortal? Was he something more than that?
His name was...Legion? An interesting name. Did it hold some significance?
"...Nice to meet you." Her words were slightly apprehensive, as they both turned to go back into the club, her giving a gentle nod as she slipped in front of him. Watching with those bright blue eyes as he seemed to drift back to his table of friends for the rest of the evening. Smoothing both hands across the top of her head, letting them both intertwine behind her neck, giving it a squeeze to relieve some tension. All she had to do was get past the shift...
-/-
It wouldn't be a terrible shift.
Money was good, that's all that was noticeable about it. That, and she had a stranger that was waiting to take her out for a decent meal after this.
When she was finished clocking out, she turned and did a quick scan of the club, seeing that he wasn't in the chairs, but instead he was by the back door exit. Turning on her heel, she made her way to him. Back in the jeans and worn leather jacket she came into the club with at the start of her shift.
"I'm surprised you stuck around. I guess you weren't lying." Ryan said, motioning for him to follow as she pushed the door open, letting it smack against the side of the building.
"..What did you have in mind for food?"
The ball of fire reflected in Legacy's eyes as it spiraled towards her. She bunched up her haunches, ready to spring away, but there was a blur of motion that gave her pause. The blur had darted in front of the fire. It took her a single heartbeat to realize it was Legion.
“Legion!” Her caterwaul rose above Aurora's manic laughter. The woman was even more unhinged. Legacy's muscles twitched beneath her pelt, ready to dive in and help. How she would help, she didn't really know, but she would help.
But it appeared he didn't need help. His hand flashed out, clawing at Aurora's throat. Blood spurted from the wound. Legacy watched, transfixed in both awe and horror, as Aurora gurgled angrily. She opened her mouth to scream, the tendons left in the gape of her throat stretched, but no sound came out. She raised her hand, the glint of the knife glistening in the light as a final act of defiance, but then her legs crumpled beneath her like a sack of flour. The last scraps of her magic billowed out, shattering the windows.
Legacy sides heaved with every breath. Her fur was caked in blood — both her own and Jupiter's. A jagged scratch was carved into her left flank; another across her right cheek. Smaller wounds adorned her body; bite wounds on the back of her neck, a gash on her withers, and the needle marks of teeth on her throat. Blood trickled from every open wound, but her eyes remained bright and focused. Adrenaline hummed in her veins; with no outlet, she began to feel dizzy. Her legs shook, forcing her to sit down. She winced as the movement pulled the tender skin of her injuries. She closed her eyes, momentarily lost in a wave of memories. She was no longer a wild cat, but her body remembered. That lingering knowledge and muscle memory had saved her life here.
“Great StarClan! Are you mad? Demons shouldn't jump in front of fire!” Her paws slipped a little a pool of blood as she raced towards him, leaping up on a nearby table. “Are you injured? I bet there are herbs growing wild here. Aloe is good for herbs. Let me see!” She was perched at the very edge of the table, blood-soaked claws sinking into the wood.
That's when she realized he lacked his sunglasses. She tried to be polite by casting her gaze away. Curiosity got the best of her though, drawing her eyes to his face. His eyes held the absence of any color, darker than a starless night. They were black holes, voids, yet that thin ring of red blazed like embers from a nightmare. The skin beneath those monstrous orbs was mottled purple and red, like rotting fruit. It was as if something inside Legion clawed to get out, leaving his face bruised from the inside. It was the kind of bruising that often came from lack of sleep or…death. The sharp jaw and cheekbones, the tilt of those unholy eyes, the pointed ears...It was a face that would haunt sleep. Instinct whispered a caution in her mind, but she showed no outward signs of disgust. The sight had made her hackles rise and tail fluff out, unbidden, but a heartbeat later it smoothed down. If anything, she was more curious. Legacy had never seen anything like it before, but understood why it could be so frightening to others.
Stop staring at him! You're being extremely rude and insensitive! Her inner voice roared, patronizing, in her ears. Shocked by her lack of manners — she had indeed been raised better — Legacy dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. That was cruel of me to stare. For whatever it's worth, I don't find them as horrifying as you seem to think. I've never seen anything like it; I'm merely intrigued.”
Determination flickered over her face. “Now, how badly are you hurt?”
As usual his lingering paranoia caused him to be overly cautious -even though his wariness was valid in this time. He kept his gaze on the mysterious singer for a while, curious of his intentions. Meanwhile everyone within the room remained blissfully vulnerable to any possible thing that could go wrong...and yet nothing happened. Surely there was some motive behind it all, right? Because no one would willingly go out of their way just to make others happy - at least in his reality.
Despite his negative thoughts, Vanitas decided to stick around to listen to the other songs. One after the other, and each one keeping the crowd in their content daze. Any other time he would’ve danced to the melodies, but he kept his gaze on Legion - again lost in thought as to why he seemed so familiar. The aesthetic, his voice...and then it hit the nephalem. He finally recognized who the other was, having listened to his prior performances - but never in person until tonight. Ergo why he never felt this hypotonic feeling before.
But if Legion was indeed who Vanitas thought he was, he was a pretty popular musician. So why would he be here of all places? It was a good sized crowd, but not the typical one for any big names. His suspicion lingered, but was overshadowed by his growing curiosity.
At times Vanitas caught himself starting to sway to the music, feeling the temptation to fall back into that wonderful sensation...but he managed not to. After a while the performance came to an end, along with the effects intertwined with it. Well, for the most part at least. Some still looked content while others were overly affectionate towards the ones closest to them. Though Vanitas did something no one else in the bar did - he gently clapped his hands as Legion got off the stage. Not only as a kudos to his performance, but to attract his attention. Whether his little tactic was successful or not, the distance between them was beginning to close.
He stood close to the bar the entire time, eyeing Legion as he made his way over and readjusted himself to properly face him. Even without his ability to snap himself out of the daze, his crimson wings always gave away that he wasn’t human. Unlike most supernaturals with wings, he couldn’t make his own fully disappear, only smaller in size. Currently they were the same size as a large hawk’s, and protruding comfortably out of custom holes he made in his jacket. Not that he minded in the slightest - he loved his wings.
The question led Vanitas to smile as he leaned in slightly. "I did, yes. You really have a way of captivating a crowd." He spoke in his usual jovial tone, and made sure to put slight emphasis on 'captivating' as a vague way of addressing the obvious. "Can I buy you a drink? It’s only fair after such a beautiful performance." While his kindness was genuine, he was also curious of what the other male was. Besides, he needed another drink too.
To tell the truth; the pale skin was the last thing she'd noticed about him, stuck on the other oddities that stood out in this crowd. But the longer she looked, the more she began to wonder if mayhaps he could be a spirit. She'd never seen one before, nothing in her magical training suggested a sensitivity to the spectral world. But she couldn't deny the otherworldly quality he possessed. Her footsteps faltered for a brief moment under his regard; before she shook herself and steeled her spine.
"Perhaps." She lifted her shoulder in a lopsided shrug and took a slurp from the half empty drink she held. "It's not like I asked you what colour your underwear was though." She pressed her lips together in an effort to suppress the smirk that wanted to tick up the corners of her lips. "True, but something tells me you aren't blind." She inhaled, turning his scent over as if trying to puzzle out what he was. His accent certainly wasn't going to tell her, on the one hand he sounded British; like many of the other people milling around enjoying their own conversations. And at the same time...not. Talk about confusing.
Did he just....oh no he didn't... A low rumble of a growl built up within her chest and her free hand balled into a fist. The urge to punch him riding her hard. "I am not a dog." She ground out between her teeth, near trembling with the the urge to lash out. The rest of his words taking a moment to even register.
What did he mean, he wore them for the comfort of others? She didn't know, and right now she was too angry to ask. She released a soft, bitter snort. "Preaching to the choir, I know all about humans and their prejudices.."
Why was she telling him this?
She didn't exactly know him from anyone in the club. He was a stranger to her. He could call her in and get her captured. But, here she stood, blurting out her frustrations to him like he was an acquaintance. Her hands came up and collected her biceps, as she finished her rant, her lips pinched shut. Her piercing blue gaze looking anywhere else, perhaps at the tops of her black strapped heels.
I'm sorry.
The words made the avian look up in the direction of the stranger. Her lashes fluttering a few times with her rapid blinks. He was...apologizing to her? For what..?
His explanation didn't do too much in terms of making her feel any better, but it did ease some tension off her shoulders, making her stand straight, palms haven't left her biceps. Afterall, she did force him outside into the breezy air in nothing but her "uniform".
...His offerings seemed to make her tense a bit again, her gaze turning towards the lights of the bar across the street, down the alleyway they rested in. Its flickering fluorescents casting a few stray beams into her striking blues, and pale face. No makeup seeming to cake up her face; no, she was free of any of that. Natural beauty.
"...You are throwing a lot on me, all at once." She finally spoke up, after his question hung in the air for a full minute without anything further. "I still have work...and a few hours left." She just got there, and she knew that her boss would kill her if she were to skip. Needing this job, she didn't have much of an option.
"...How about this," The woman sighed out a breath, rubbing her arms as they started to form some goosebumps on the skin. "...I finish at three in the morning. If you are still awake, and functioning, and still want to take me out to get that meal...I'll go with you." Turning her gaze off to the side for a moment, before it met his face, and those glasses that seemed to block his eyes.
"..." Hand parting from her bicep, she motioned it towards him. Held open to shake his.
"...My name is Ryan."
She didn't believe him. Not one bit. They were always sending those with some type of ability after her, ones they engineered themselves. The thought could only make her wings tremble...
...But he seemed to be telling the truth.
Her hands unclenched from his shirt, and fell to her sides, taking a step back to assess the situation at hand. No one dared to even look at her the way he was right now. All too coked up, or drunk to notice the feathers were attached to flesh instead of wires.
That burning questions he's asked her multiple times came back up in her mind, which brought her head up to meet his hidden gaze. "...Does it really look like I'm okay?"
She was on edge, the giant feathered appendages behind her giving a brief flap to straighten out her down, before they seemed to tuck themselves back up against her spine...and away from the naked eye. Into her skin they went, disappearing...
"...I work at some shitty club to afford to eat, and keep a decent appearance. I live in an abandoned hotel with broken windows and stray druggies that come in for a fix. I'm running from people trying to capture me, and I haven't had a decent nights rest in three days. Does it look like I'm okay?"
Her voice sounded broken, as if she had given up with this existence. Unsure of what to even do now that she was caught by the first person to notice her. Did he even know what she was? Chances were he kind of knew...
"...why are you asking me...?"
The woman was taken aback by the laughter that was in front of her. Her body seemed to tense as she set her now empty can of soda on the bar counter, piercing blue eyes staring at him. Most men came in and asked for her. And here he was, laughing at the prospect. Eyes lifted to meet his covered gaze, feeling almost insulted where she stood.
The more he talked, the more cautious she became.
Then...her wings.
Her hand reached out, and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and yanked him towards the nearest fire exit. Pushing past the door into the club's alleyway. Her grip was strong, definitely not human by any account.
Her strength didn't waver as she used both hands wrapped in his shirt to push him up against the brick wall beside the rusted club door. Her eyes fierce...
"...Who are you working for?"
Her words were tense, demanding. As if to try and get the answers out of him, those wings that were once folded up against her pale back, they grew in size as they outstretched. A threat to him that he should start talking immediately, and answer some of her questions.
"...Did they send you to find me?"
Who exactly was "they"? It seemed like there was a clear answer she had picked out in her mind when it came to the culprit. He could notice that her breathing was getting a bit heavier...and a thin film of nervous sweat blotted across her forehead.
...Was that fear?
With a fierce cry, Aurora raised her knife, this time slicing through the auburn strands of her hair, freeing her from Legion's unholy grip. She stumbled away, hissing in rage. Her anger sparked hotter when he…pulled out his phone. Legion's nonchalance infuriated her; he should be cowering in fear, not calmly reaching for his phone.
Unleashing her wrath, Aurora flung out her arms. Blazing fire erupted from her hands, swirling around Legion to strike his back — she thought perhaps he was only protecting his front. The flames burned with a ferocity that could melt steel, suffocating the room in blistering heat. As the inferno raged on, dark tendrils of magic began to swirl through the air, probing for weaknesses in Legion's defenses. These were no ordinary flames - they were alive, pulsing with a power that could drain the life from anything they touched.
But Aurora's assault didn't stop at Legion. Her shadowy magic seeped into the blood staining the floor, exploiting the forbidden power of blood magic. Most witches shunned this dark art, but Aurora wielded it without hesitation. From her outstretched hand, a blade of darkened energy shot forth, its purpose to shred Legion's protective barrier. If the blade ricocheted off his defenses, Aurora was ready to dodge its deadly arc. The magic instead would slice into the wall, leaving behind a crescent moon shaped scar in the plaster. If it was able to land, it would weaken Legion's protective spell, but not completely.
Wave after wave of such magic crashed against Legion's defenses, each strike trying to chip away at his protections, aiming it all at his back as she darted around him. Aurora held her ground, refusing to advance until his barriers were sufficiently broken. Only then could she risk closing in for the kill. For now, she was a specter of vengeance, her dark magic weaving a deadly spell of destruction that would not rest until Legion fell.
Legacy had Jupiter pinned beneath her. Blood welled in her eyes, nearly blinding her. Using his greater strength, Jupiter kicked his back legs into her soft underbelly, knocking the wind out of her as she flew across the room. Her body slammed into the wall before falling into a motionless lump. Dazed, she tried to stagger to her paws. Jupiter was faster. His heavy weight landed on her back, pinning her, before sharp teeth closed over her neck. Panic settled like a heavy stone in her belly, causing her to scramble to find purchase, to lash out, to do anything. She only managed to squirm onto her side, but she was able to twist and kick out with her back leg. Her claws sliced along his throat and down his chest. Legacy wretched herself away from Jupiter as he gasped in shock.
Legacy had to end this fight with Jupiter. She was starting to tire. She dodged Jupiter as he launched himself at her, aiming a paw and slicing his side open as he leaped past her. Blood soaked his pelt. His eyes shone with a brilliant hate as they circled each other, testing and pushing. Blood oozed from Jupiter's throat like a sludgy red river.
Legacy's ears flattened, her tail twitching like a metronome on steroids. Jupiter, that arrogant tom, stood before her, fur fluffed up in a pathetic attempt to look larger. His eyes gleamed with a feral light, but Legacy wasn't intimidated. He was losing this fight.
A low growl rumbled in her throat, a warning. Jupiter merely sneered, baring pointed teeth. He thought size gave him the upper hand. Thought wrong.
Legacy danced back as Jupiter swiped at her, his claws whistling past her ear. Too slow. She darted in, quick as a snake, raking her claws across his right eye. Blood spurted out as her hooked talons sliced over the delicate pupil. Jupiter yowled in agony, shaking his head and stumbling back.
Now. Legacy sprang, landing on his back. Her claws dug deep into his scruff, holding tight. Jupiter bucked and spun, but she clung on, a determined little burr. The excruciating pain in Jupiter's face caused him to stumble under Legacy's weight. His legs buckled. Legacy struck quickly, teeth sinking into his throat. His blood washed over her tongue, bitter and vile, but she clamped her jaws tighter. He kicked and slashed out with his paws, but she stood behind him, safe from his blows.
Jupiter's struggles weakened, then ceased. His eyes glazed, fixed on some point beyond this world. Legacy released him slowly, as if unsure. Red dripped from her jaws. She looked feral, then. Panting, she nudged the lifeless body with a paw. It was already growing cold. She stumbled back a little, as if somewhat shocked by her actions. She knew, deep within her heart, that this fight would only end with Jupiter's death or her own. She'd had no choice, but it still went against everything she had been taught.
His death made Aurora stumble and clutch her chest. Wild eyes landed on her. She screeched at the sight of Jupiter's lifeless body.
“You wretch! You vile, detestable beast!
My familiar, my friend, my Jupiter - you've unleashed your wicked wrath upon him, and now he's lost!
How dare you! I'll flay you alive myself, don't you know?
Your death will not be peaceful, a swift letting go.
It will be torturous, a slow, agonizing woe,
A fate worse than any the harshest tyrant could show.”
Aurora hurled the words at Legacy like sharpened thorns. She unleashed a ball of fire, aimed right for Legacy. Unlike Legacy's, Aurora's magic was tight and controlled, yet chaotic with rage.
The comments from his friends would indeed be heard on her sensitive ears, which made her grimace when she made her exit. Her nose turned up a bit to it. Not much that has changed with men in his club. Whatever. It didn't resonate with her as much as it should.
With the soda foam stopping when she popped it open, she felt that strange presence once more. Turning her head to the side to spot the gentleman with the glasses she had seen before. Her body stood straight up, the can still to her lips...letting her take a long sip from its container before she addressed what he just asked her.
"...Am I...okay?"
The scent on his man was something she's never experienced before. It didn't necessarily burn her nostrils like the men that always came up to her after her dances...no, it was strange.
"...Look," She began, tilting her head to the side, giving a gentle, but blank expression. "I would be happy to give you a dance if you were looking for one, but..let me finish my drink first.."
Her piercing blue eyes focused anywhere else, leaning her side up against the corner of the bar, her wings seeming to shudder a bit at the proposition that left her brims, yet remained tucked up against her back. She didn't know what drove her to not put them away this night, but...having them in the open was making her worry of those who weren't drunk enough. Surely they wouldn't ask too many questions, as most of the girls in the club were dressed up as other characters to catch the fancy of wandering eyes.
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