ˡᵒᵒᵏˑˑˑ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ⁽ᵇᵘᶰᶰʸ ˣ ʲᵃᶜᵉ⁾

[Lady Jace Beleren]

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

"Stay in here, princess. Don't come out for anyone except me." Annabelle's voice was sweet as syrup, so soft as she spoke to the most important thing in her entire universe. She wanted to stay and protect her. Hold the door and stop anyone who wanted to come in. But, there were dozens of them. If she stayed and waited, they would find them and both the women would die, just like everyone else had. No, she needed to stop them before they could find the little closet she had stuffed her precious charge into. Annabelle Aubin was a knight. A class of people born into the world to protect their necromancer. It was a place of great honor. Even those who resented the necromancers still thought highly of the knights that guarded them. Anna was not one of those knights. She had not been born into a prestigious family of knights, a long line of noble protectors. Annabelle had been the product of two people who had never even gotten to name her. She was not a hero, not a noble. No, Annabelle was a fucking science experiment. She was an orphan, or close enough. The Aubin family had plenty of noble scions of their house. Plenty of legitimate heirs. Annabelle had been purchased from her parents because a necromancer had inspected her in the NICU and determined that she was the perfect distance from death to be of use. Necromancers could mend and manipulate the body of both the living and the dead. Annabelle was going to be something different. And, for the majority of her life, she could not recall what it meant to live without pain. Muscular, skeletal, hormonal, even her nervous system. They were a playground for necromancers paid by the Aubin family to create something more than human. Every day she split her time between being experimented on and training. Her "siblings" were kind enough at first, treated her like a friend. Until she began to beat them more frequently. Until she was so fast and so monstrous they were pitted against her two at a time. When she turned fourteen, they stopped interacting with her at all. She was something else now. Not human. And they hated her for it. That was fine with her. She hated herself too. By the time she had turned eighteen and been placed on the market as an available knight, most of the wealthiest families were already trying to buy her contract. Usually, a knight was sold on pedigree and skill. Annabelle was auctioned off like a prize. A new kind of knight. When she entered the Mavros home, she knew how she looked. Her skin was pale as starlight, no longer capable of converting sunlight into precious vitamins. Just like her skin, her hair was faded to a silver-gray, reaching down to her lower back. Eyes the color of cold steel looked around the mansion, unfeeling and uncaring. Everything else about her was a weapon. Nails that could extend into claws, reinforced with so many different minerals that they could shred flesh, teeth that curved into sharp points, a secondary set of ears atop her head modeled after canines. She wore black leather, tight enough to hug every contour of her body, a heavy blade at her side that most knights would never dare to carry because of how unwieldy it was. When she had been escorted to meet her charge, Anna expected to meet some spoiled brat. Maelle Mavros was, instead, a very cute fourteen year old necromancer. Bright and smiling, she was wrapped up pastels and shined in a way that nothing ever had for Annabelle. She did not care that her knew knight was some semi-famous experiment. She saw a person. And Annabelle loved her for it like nothing and no one else. The next five years had been quiet, by the standard of a knight and her necromancer. There had been attempts on Maelle's life, but Anna had ended them before her charge had known. Every day that went by, Annabelle moved further away from being an object and closer to being a person. That person just happened to care about only one thing. So, she hid her damage from Maelle, pretended that she was sweet and kind. Eventually, it became true. And soon enough after, Annabelle realized she loved her necromancer more than one could love air and water and life. So, when the warning had come, when the Mavros home had been compromised, Annabelle knew she would do anything possible to stop it. So, she tucked Maelle away in a closet and tripped the switch that had been built into her brain to start the flow of adrenaline. Let her body become that non-human thing. Her pupils expanded, turning her eyes black as rings of red replaced the gray. Her lips curled back to reveal monstrous teeth, nails extending into claws. And when she heard the footsteps coming, she gave up on pretending to be human for just a little while. They started screaming, and Annabelle did not stop hunting until the screams ended. When she finally knocked on the door, covered in so much blood it was hard to tell what was black leather and what was slick with arterial spray. She had failed to stop them from killing her parents, their knights, but Maelle was safe. That was all that mattered, all that ever mattered. Her knuckles left red splotches on the closet door, but her voice, her breathing, was so even it was uncanny, inhuman. "I took care of them, princess. You can come out. We have... a lot to do." #a077b1

 

[Bunny]

Delicate. Delicate and sweet. That wasn’t exactly what one wanted in a necromancer. Even though both were true, Maelle’s parents had doted on her. Loved her and had, even though she was their only heir, allowed her to grow as she wished. Always the smallest child, it had never bothered Maelle, why would it? She was the heir of a fortune that would have made Midas weep with envy. While some Necromancer families focused on the aesthetics, Maelle’s family had seen a market where the dead could be crafted or raised to perform labor others would not. Barbaric and cruel were the words most used for the practice and yet, companies and governments were willing to pay for their talents and the talents of those who worked for them. Slowly they had become more than just a family and had transitioned into an empire. One built atop the shoulders of the dead. There were no souls in the bodies and most bodies were formed rather than being a whole person. In their eyes this took care of the pesky problem of raising jo-blow from the dead and his loved ones freaking out. None of this had ever mattered to Maelle. She knew what her family did and saw no issues with the practice. It was economical and provided aid when sending people was just not feasible. It allowed operators to see issues where humans couldn’t venture. Radiation? Below the safe diving level? In space? The Marvos Company had you covered. So she had been allowed to grow and learn her craft. A delicate little grave blossom. It wasn’t widely known about her talents, unlike the twins of the Blackwood Necromancers. It wasn’t that Maelle lacked talent, no she had it in spades and had she wished to, she might have been able to rival Alexandria and Sebastian both. Her own appearance was testament of that power. Maelle was still tiny, but her hair was pink, purple and tea. It gave her a very mermaid like effect, combined with her yellow cat eyes and the delicate elf ears. Bone studs lined her ears, assuring she’d never be without bone. The snake bite piercings were silver, beneath her full bottom lip and she had a habit of toying with them with her tongue when she was focused. When she was fourteen, Maelle had been given a present, though later, her present had heard her yelling at her parents. For the present was not a thing, but a person. A human, altered by necromancy. While the extent of the torture was not known, she could see the effects it had on Annabelle. The young girl had been taken with her and never once had treated her like she was less than. They had become fast friends, Annabelle hearing her hopes, dreams, worries and fears. In return, Annabelle had become her protector and her biggest fan. ⛧°. ⋆𓌹*♰*𓌺⋆. °⛧​ Stay here and do not come out. Even the sweet one and the nickname had not been enough to fool Maelle as screams and fighting rent the air. Tucked away into a small closet, the smaller female, now seventeen, curled into a ball. Fighting with her necromancy might have helped. Might have offered her family a chance, but she knew that Annabelle had strict orders about her safety. Unlike the other attacks, this one her Knight could not keep from her. The others had been easier and she had never once questioned it. Screams and the sound of flesh ripping. Cries of agony like a cacophony rang out until she could take it no more and her hands had pressed over her ears. Minutes or hours, Maelle didn’t know. When she heard Annabelle’s voice though her head lifted from her knees and she eyed the doorway uneasily. Two minutes passed before she crawled from the closet and stood. Unlike her Knight, Maelle looked pristine, if not a touch wrinkled. The tank top that stretched over her small beasts showed the swell of cleavage though a peekaboo heart. It was white as snow and was lighter than her pale complexion. Along her slender stomach were four iridescent bands, joined with four heart-shaped D-rings. The bands alternated colors and were mismatched on either side. Pastel green, pink, purple and blue to purple, blue, pink and green. The pale pink and black pleated skirt fall along her creamy thighs and the black thigh highs had small bats along each leg in the same colors. Pushing her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear she looked from Annabelle to the gore behind her. Biting her lower lip, one fang showing as she rose on her toes. Small hands cupped Annabelle’s face as she rose on her toes. “Are you hurt, sweet girl?” Far from stupid, she was worried for her knight first. “Are my parents okay?” When her eyes sifted from Maelle’s face she inhaled and closed her eyes. They were dead then.. “Are you hurt?” The question came again, more insistent. #a077b1

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

The sight of Maelle opening that door, completely unharmed, made Annabelle want to drop to her knees and cry. It was only this young necromancer who made her feel this way. Had she ever cried in her youth? No matter the pain in her body or the loneliness she felt, she could not remember a single time. But, knowing that her necromancer was safe despite the carnage that littered the building was almost enough. When those small hands held her face, rivulets of blood turning her finger tips red, the knight nearly purred. There was something deeply wrong with her, but everything about Maelle made it right. Until she asked about her parents. Annabelle's eyes darted away, a sharp inhale making her whole body tense. No, they were not okay. The attack had targeted them specifically. If Annabelle had been there, they might have survived, but it had never crossed her mind. As soon as the commotion started, she had gone to protect her charge and she regretted nothing. The next question, or a repeat of the first, had her looking back. Because she really was a monster. Despite being covered in blood, her silver hair tacky and black, gore crusted under her nails, she was fine. She could not remember the last time her muscles ached, the last time she had actually been tired, but there was not a scratch on her. The ones with the guns had underestimated her speed, and they had been far from trained soldiers. Then, when they picked up swords and bones and metal rods, they buckled under her blade. It had been like pulling wings off a bug. Dozens of necromancers and knights were dead and she could have stopped it all. It made her feel... guilty. Not sad, just guilty that all of it was going to make Maelle sad. She could only lean her cheek into Maelle's hand and give her a little smile. "I'm fine, princess. But, there are going to be police here soon. And other families will be curious what happened. And... Miss Mavros, you are now the one in charge." Annabelle's eyes closed tight for a moment before she took a step back, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword. She was a mess, but her necromancer, her reason to be, needed her now. ⛧°. ⋆𓌹*♰*𓌺⋆. °⛧​ Annabelle stepped out of the elevator first, ears twitching as she tried to pick up any little sounds. Since she had taken over, security was more than tight. It was impregnable. If one wanted to visit Maelle Mavros, you needed to speak to her knight personally. Everyone who stepped foot into the office space was not just checked for ID, but examined by a necromancer of her choice for any alterations. If someone wanted to hurt Maelle, they needed to be beyond crafty. None of that stopped her from checking every corner, every shadow, before she moved away from the door and let her necromancer step out. Things had changed fast. The leadership at the company had to be restructured, given that half of the executive board was dead. The security team had suffered massive casualties, and finding new knights had been a nightmare. The thing that had changed most, except for Maelle herself, had been Annabelle. For one, she no longer dressed in a leather catsuit. She was a public figure. Now, her white jacket hung loose off her shoulders, buttoned tight across the chest, and opened around her middle, showing off a pale stomach. Her silver hair was still long and unruly, but she did her best to keep it brushed, to keep it clipped away from her eyes. Her pants were a deep black, loose like a karate gi around her legs and tight around her waist. She looked... almost sexy, but most certainly ready to fight. Most intimidating of all was her sword, the only thing that had stayed the same. The blade was long enough to risk dragging along the carpet despite being buckled high around her waist, the strap breaking up that view of her midriff. It was a monster of a blade, shaped like a katana, but heavier, less flexible. And the ease with which she moved showed how deceiving her small lithe frame was. More than just looks, she had embraced the monster. Every person who moved closer than she liked received a savage growl, long canines showing as her lip curled back. Annabelle had cultivated a reputation, bred fear. She knew they all hated her, either for her failure that day or the success she had since, but she reveled in it. It was armor, meant to protect her charge. Now, she walked in Maelle's wake, only a step and a half behind. "You look beautiful today, Miss Mavros. Do we have important meetings to attend today?" Her tone was still sweet, though she kept her voice low. Maelle was Miss Mavros in public now, but she was still Annabelle's princess. No matter what she did, that sweetness showed in her voice. It hit other people like whiplash, but she only cared what Maelle thought. The rest was a sweet charade. She knew their schedule and every face involved down to the pores of their skin. But, Maelle was always in control. #a077b1

 

[Bunny]

Death came to all things, as a necromancer she understood that. Maelle still felt the death of her parents, keen and sharp. Pushing it down she rubbed her thumb over Annabelle’s cheek, before slowly nodding. “If you’re sure.” No one knew her like Annabelle, not even her parents. Others would look at her, see her lack of tears as coldness, but crying over them would do her little good beyond giving her a headache in the moment. She could mourn later. Nose wrinkling she hissed. “Don’t call me that.” Miss. Marvos. She had never liked that formality and Annabelle knew it. Inhaling she closed her eyes and centered herself. Things would be expected of her. People would want answers and demand things from her. All Maelle wanted to do was crawl back into her closet where she’d been tucked away. Cramped, it now felt far more safe than the world beyond. Lifting her chin she followed Annabelle from the room. Her eyes steady on her back. Blood and gore never bothered her, but seeing the people she cared about dead? That bothered her. Even if they were nothing more than empty husks now. ⛧°. ⋆𓌹*♰*𓌺⋆. °⛧​ Waiting within the elevator, Maelle watched Annabelle as she swept the room, fingers fidgeting with her skirt. It was long, soft and fell around her slender hips in a soft wave, ending about mid calf. It was.. Respectable, in its own way. Grown up. That was the word one of the board members had used last time they had met. They’d still hat this outfit, but fuck them. She’d met them halfway.. In her own way. Still pastel colors and black. Still touches of her personality. The Wednesday crop top that flashed pale creamy skin between it and the top of her skirt. The black little lace socks that peeked from above her mint green suede boots. The black lipstick that was matte and made her lips like velvet. Her hair, ears and eyes they’d fucking deal with. The golden cat eyes watched the flicks of Annebelle’s ears. It was cute, even when she was busy making sure that everything was safe. Only once Annabelle had stepped to the side, did Maelle exit the elevator. Her slender body brushed past her Knight’s and her fingers touched her hands lightly. Even before the attacks, Maelle had been affectionate with her touches. Hand holding, hugs and the like had been something not only Annabelle had known, but the staff and other Knights she had been closer to. Fingers fell away and she inclined her head some. “The board wants to meet again, they are vastly unhappy that the company has fallen into my hands. Chafing under the rules you have set into place and more than anything, they question my abilities.” Not that Annabelle didn’t know this already. At first, she had chaffed too under the new rules, but quickly enough she had adapted. It was for her protection. To keep her safe. Before that day, Maelle had been protected, kept safe and hidden. She wasn’t something to be afraid of, but had been treasured. Her natural aptitude was something that would give others pause. The fact that she’d been allowed to learn and develop like a wildflower, freely tripping from subject to subject, would only give others pause. Annabelle knew this, knew what they all thought of the girl that no one knew. “I want to ask if we can just run away, but I know we can’t. My parents worked hard for everything, to throw it away?” Only Annabelle would hear that tremor. Only she knew that her princess woke screaming in the night and needed to be held till she fell back asleep. She’d not even seen the horrors and yet they plagued her dreams like wraiths. #a077b1

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

The Annabelle knew exactly how the board felt about her rules. A select few, mostly survivors from the attack, were appreciative of her new need for control. They felt safe because Annabelle made sure they did. The younger ones, or newer at least, were glad for the change in power. They wanted to take over. There was so much money and magic tied up in the corporation that just having a board position meant you were set for life. Until someone killed you, at least. That part seemed to be of no concern, though. Even the broken arm she had handed out last meeting barely mattered when a necromancer could mend it in minutes. It was natural for Maelle for give out small affections, touch others. For Annabelle, those were the things that kept her living. No one had touched her with kindness, even when she was a child. Yet, her necromancer treated her like she mattered. Annabelle would kill for those little brushes of the hand. In a way, she had. So, those unsure words, the quivering in her voice, they made Anna flex her fingers, grip so tight that little pinpricks of blood formed as her concealed nails dug into her skin. Even as it burned, she smiled at her necromancer and spoke, soft and sweet. "You don't want to run away, princess. You want to do the right thing. Don't worry. The board won't bite." Anna lifted her fingers to nudge Maelle's chin. Sweet, supporting. Then, she turned and guided them toward the board room. They would be pieces of shit about all of this. The company was doing just fine. Despite all their complaining, despite the deaths, the contracts were still pulling in a fortune. The rank and file necromancers still did their work. So, Anna would not tolerate a bad word about her charge. And, that was why, when the walked into the conference room, a stereotypical room with a long table and glass walls, things went very wrong, very fast. "...fucking kidding me? Are we really expected to work for a child who plays dress-up?" The voice was already halfway through the complaint when Anna opened the door. Whether it was the flinch from the people around him or his own awareness, he turned toward Anna and Maelle. And he barely had time to register that they were there before Anna moved. She was so fast, too fast for anyone but a trained combatant to even respond to. This puffed up corporate piece of shit was not trained. He was barely a necromancer. And, aside from a few gasps, there was little reaction to the sound of his head being smashed against the hardwood tabletop. Her fangs were out, eyes black and red. One hand held his head down, the other gripping his arm. "Get your fucking dog off me! My father helped build this fuck..." The words disappeared into a scream of pain. Anna snapped his arm like kindling. This was the second time she had done it. The same snarky asshole, the same arm. It appeared once had not been enough. So, for good measure, she shifted her grip, pushing down on his shoulder with her knee, and snapped it again. It was hanging like rope, swaying even as he fought against her grip. Only the soft voice of Maelle cut through the sounds of the room. And, it was like a switch. Anna perked her ears up and turned toward her necromancer just like the dog she was accused of being. She released his arm and practically skipped toward Maelle. Some of them, the ones who knew the pair well, were unsurprised. Others looked at her like she was a psychopath. Both were right, in their way. Anna turned to stand beside Maelle, beaming. Any attention was good attention when it came from her necromancer. "Sorry, Miss Mavros. I lost my temper." #a077b1