#utmostzenith

[fallesto]

Bandits… Am I allowed to kill or do you have a strict rule against such?//Featuring Adelheid.

The question had slipped out it seems, as she turned her head. The road ahead was blocked by five men, their mismatched armor and rusted weapons glinting in the afternoon sun. They hadn't spotted her yet—too busy arguing over a spilled sack of grain from some merchant's cart. The scent of sweat and cheap ale wafted through the air as one of them kicked the splintered wood in frustration.

She exhaled through her nose. No corpses yet. That was something.

“I am against such actions, unless there is no other choice.”

Her fingers twitched near the hilt of the blade strapped discreetly beneath her skirt. It wasn't her true sword—that blade was too recognizable—but it would do. Killing humans had always left a metallic taste in her mouth long after the blood had dried. Bandits were rarely irredeemable, just desperate. And desperation could be negotiated with. She adjusted her yellow necktie and breathed out.

“If they have taken life, I would prefer for them to be arrested, but if that fails, there is no choice.”

She believed in offering chances first, and trying to wound, not kill, humans or anything that had high intelligence, understood right from wrong, and needed to be offered a chance. That principle, drilled into her by years of knightly oaths and quiet regrets, still held firm even now, beneath soft curves and swaying skirts. Her fingers uncurled from the hilt. The bandits hadn’t seen her yet, still too busy snarling at each other over spilled grain and dented pride. A woman’s voice—higher, lighter would startle them more than steel. Perhaps enough to avoid steel entirely.

“For now, it would be best, to calm down this situation.”

[clan-of-curses]

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How? Just how did things end up like this? One moment she had been peaceful guarding the temple that housed all the Shinda clans cursed objects and tools, and the next she was being humiliated married to what looked to be a curses spirit? Looked being the key word, she couldn't see any cursed energy radiating off this... thing, that was now her... what would she call this? Husband? No, this creature didn't look like a man, but it certainly wasn't a woman with how grossly muscular this creature was. So it can't be a wife. Not to mention there was no way in hell she was going to call a cursed spirit her mate.

She scoffed internally, it was currently night and the two were in her Minka (a Japanese house) which had no modern amenities past the bathroom with the toilet, the 'rooms' well organized and the 'bedroom' at the front closest to where the fireplace is. Great, just great. Now she'd have to organize the two of the rooms closest to the hearth and make them bedrooms by putting up the Shoji as she had no plans on sharing a futon with this creature. Speaking of futon, she was at least gracious enough to give the creature the better futon, hers, while she slept on the lower quality one she saved for the snot nosed goblins that are her clans kids to sleep on when they strayed to far into the forest and it got late.

Though did Noroi get a any sleep last night? No. Was it from the consummation of the marriage, god no, thankfully no, she even put effort into avoiding her new partner until she figured out it had no intrest in doing such with her. Her chastity would see another day it seems, thankfully. She had been busy sulking all night under the blanket of her futon, after that. Grieving the death of her plans to stay single forever until she's becomes a cursed spirit or is split up into cursed objects. But once the time came where she normally woke up, she would have to put that sulking on hold as she shifted around, sitting up and making the yukata she was sleeping in was fully shut. Damn, she wouldn't be able to do any of the things she did when she lived alone now... that sucked immensely.

Blood red eyes which were missing the spark of life would lazily drift to where the other was sleeping. Pupils narrowing to vertical slits. She... could just kill it right now, right? That's likely what her father wanted her to do, kill the curse. Or... Akuma wanted the curse to kill her. Eh, she didn't care, it could try and she'd just Revive thanks to one half of her reverse curse technique. With a soft sigh and a hand running through her spiky snowy white hair that was cut to just below her ears, she would get up and start making some breakfast. Quick to prepare some white rice, miso soup, and some... totally normal not human meat from one of the corpses she has stored in her domain for protein. Placing it in its respective dishes before settling on the tatami mat she saw on at the small table.

Ugh, out of all the women in my clan, why did it have to pick me? Why did it have to demand the strongest woman be the one to marry itself to? Hell, Hanabi wpuld be a much better pick for a wife then me.

She thinks to herself as she ate her breakfast, those dead looking blood red eyes of hers glancing at the sleeping for ofnthe other as she popped some of the totally normal not non sorcerer meat into her mouth. Perhaps she'll let it live? Whatever it was has peeked her intrest, and she normally let those who peeked such live... which was extremely rare, really. Perhaps she'll even speak to it today instead of brooding like a toddler who didn't get the cookies it wanted.

[felldownlight]

link || @utmostzenith

Has one ever wondered what colors that white and black mix together? A shade of grey. ; An Area that a person must question their decision ever so lightly, unless they wish to tip the scales. Shoulders relax, hand rests under chin.

"Then, may I question, do you still uphold the same ideals when money is involved? Where I hail from, many kindred spirits do not have the luxury of time to ponder their position as a hero in someone's fairy tale, or a villain who must stop all good.

Is it righteous to hold on to such meager beliefs and ideas? White, black, or grey? Good, or evil?"

[dangerous-realms]

Let me be your consort, Solveig.

"Huh???"

That was the first sound that came frome the precursors mouth. It had been a rather peaceful day to say the least. Solveig was being a little less chaotic than she had been for a hot moment, something that was probably a wonderful break considering how strange she had been being. But this sudden request caught the abysmally ancient woman off guard.

Consort? Did he have any idea what he was asking? After all, to be a Empresses consort ment wedding her and siring children with her. Was he aware that she already had a wife as Ragnar? Doubtful unless one were to go looks. Elysias scent wasn't on this form, it vanished when this body came into existence. Replaced by the subtle aroma of cinnamon that is Solveigs natura scent.

"Kezel, I must ask if you are aware of what a consort is and what position they hold in courts and alongside royalty?"

Could he really be asking to be her husband? Her mate? He wasn't an idiot, but to ask so suddenly was a surprise. She just had to make sure.

[cursedfortune]

@utmostzenith liked this post for a lil' thing

The witch whistled to get his attention before she reared back her arm and threw an apple his way. Most humans had poor reaction time, but given his energy it seemed likely he'd have the reflexes to catch it. If not, she got a laugh (at his expense).

[miramiravictories]

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The witch scoffed just as she retracted her hand from the militant.

"Who am I...?"

How aloof, she thought. Not that she was any better.

"Who I am should be the LEAST of your worries." Still, the amethyst pink-eyed witch stood near the extraterrestrial without worry he would retaliate. "The elixir I provided you, though potent, needs time to take full effect. So it'd do you good to take put for the next hour or so."

[fallesto]

Isn't it remarkable how life can take unexpected turns? It feels like a lifetime ago—almost several years—since she sat in a classroom, absorbing lessons about the marvels and, more crucially, the perils of magic.

Back then, she only half-listened, convinced that she would wield magic for her own purposes. After all, everyone capable of using it did so to enhance their lives, regardless of the consequences. Now, she finds herself regretting that she didn’t heed those warnings, reflecting on how many of her kind have faced ironic twists of fate.

The source of her current predicament was a witch cult member… a man who had hated her. As he cursed those around her, friends, family, allies and turned them into mere horses. In a moment of rage, fueled by tumultuous emotions, he transformed them from humans into beasts, to remove all in her life from her. What was meant to be a singular curse spiralled out of control, affecting many, herself included.

It seems this was always the inevitable conclusion, wasn’t it?

She had been making her way to one of her safe havens deep within the forest, but it seemed fate had other plans. Someone had noticed her, and to her great dismay, they had taken advantage of the moment. The beautiful silks that clung to her form were stripped away, along with the delicate ribbons woven through her mane and tail. The precious jewels—the diamonds, the bracelets adorning her hooves, and the golden earrings—were all snatched from her.

It happened so quickly; they had managed to keep her subdued and remove every trace of her identity until she was left with nothing but her equine form. Just a mare, indistinguishable from the rest, facing the same grim destiny as so many others: to be sold.

As she was led to the bustling market in the city, she was paraded alongside others, all waiting for the chance to be bought by anyone with enough coins to claim her.

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[fallesto]

Deep within the building, he was sleeping within the tank, unaware of the chaos unfolding outside. The glass distorted his tiny, curled-up body—grey, segmented, almost insect-like—but the rhythmic hum of machinery kept him undisturbed. Tubes fed him nutrients, while electrodes monitored his rapid cellular mutations. He twitched occasionally, reacting to the distant echoes of explosions shaking the lab’s foundations. In his dreams, he saw towering figures—Saiyans, roaring with unchecked power—crushing cities underfoot. Their laughter was thunder, their footsteps earthquakes. But then, the vision twisted: the warriors screamed as shadows coiled around them, their muscles withering, their veins turning black. His tiny mouth curled into something resembling a smile.

The tank shuddered violently. A coolant pipe burst overhead, spraying liquid nitrogen across the reinforced glass, frosting it opaque. Alarms blared—high-pitched, insistent—but he didn’t wake. His antenna twitched, parsing the sounds subconsciously: the lab’s AI recited evacuation protocols, while distant footsteps pounded closer. Metal groaned under stress. Someone was coming for him. Still deep in sleep, synapses fired erratically. Fragments of genetic memory surfaced—ancient Tuffle laboratories, the scent of ozone and burning flesh, the wet crunch of Saiyan boots stomping through his ancestors’ ribcages. His larval tail coiled tighter around himself. The dream shifted again: now he stood atop a mountain of broken armor, limp bodies draped over his knee.

The Saiyan’s blood tasted like battery acid.

Glass shattered. Reality intruded—cold air rushed in, stinging his gelatinous skin. His eyelids peeled apart with a sickening adhesive sound, red irises dilating against the sudden glare of emergency lights. The chemical tank would shake, as alarms continue to ring. Outside his shattered enclosure, the lab burned. Flames licked at overturned consoles, melting circuits into blackened slag. Smoke coiled lazily toward the ceiling vents, but not fast enough—already his tiny lungs spasmed against the acrid sting. As his eyes widened, someone, had broken through and was coming right to him.

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