A viper's nest of tyranny.

<font color='#000000'>“Fine. Be dead. I’m not going to argue with you about it.”

Okkie took a deep breath and tried once more to heave herself to her feet. This time she achieved her wish. The female pendragon swept awkwardly into a standing position and then swayed for a few seconds before she became rigid and balanced. Her tail flicked and she looked down at Kakosenas still lolling around on the floor. 'Kie almost reached out a hand to help hoist the Evil One to her feet. But instead she just snickered and turned to peer at the waiting door.

“It wasn’t stealing. It was borrowing. If it means that much to you, stingy brat, I’ll roll a nice, new one for you later. Sheesh.”

She scratched one of her rather large ears.

“Will they be here soon? If not, I just might have to steal some more stuff from you. Maybe even a kiss. Then you’d really feel violated, ahha.”</font>

 

<font color='#000000'>It suddenly occurred to Okkie that her unfinished joint had been flung from her hands when Kakosenas had pounced. Where had it gone? The female peeled her eyes from the scarred wooden door and let them rove over the entirety of the filthy, subterranean room. Nothing was on fire; there wasn’t even a cloud of smoke furling over the threadbare carpet. It must have went out, she decided, shrugging. Her hands felt empty, her fingertips were blistered from rolling earlier, and she really wanted to suck a joint right now. But hers was dead on the floor somewhere, and the only ones left in the room were tucked safely in the snide Kakosenas’ pockets. And there was no way she was going to dare that again — too risqué.

Besides, they had other business to attend to. Like that kiss… Who said I was going to kiss you on the mouth? Okkie wanted to snap saucily at Kakosenas. Leave it open-ended, tricky. Instead, the banded pendragon merely tilted her head and scrutinized the other female, drinking in every line and facet. She wasn’t Trail, she wasn’t one of Okkie’s shelved males, but she was… beautiful in her own way. Cryptic, dark, she had the look of an assassin. Yet, she also looked tender, malleable, by all means kissable. Kind of like a screwed up teddy bear — rotten on the inside, but still as soft and cuddly as ever on the exterior.

“You’re right, though. I don’t want to have your bad breath. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook. You’re too cute to just let go like that.”

Okkie owed Kakosenas a counterattack. Therefore, she turned fluidly to the ebony female, eyed her with iceberg orbs. Then, without a hint of preliminary warning, Okkie leapt, pounced, attacked. Her movements were swift as a rattlesnake’s, but smooth and extremely restrained. She didn’t want to set off the Evil One’s alarms, didn’t want to push her buttons. Thus, it was softly that she juddered against the other female, tentatively that she brushed her cheek with her muzzle, gingerly that she clutched Kakosenas’ head and turned it to the side… Quietly that she planted a sloppy smooch there, tongue stud just barely trailing up arched cheekbone.

“So evil, and yet so adorable. That’s us.”

But her mockery and her charm suddenly turned into fierceness and impiety. For, just as a pregnant silence consumed the pair of females, Okkie sensed a faint resonance — the distant thudding of approaching feet.</font>

 

And someone approaching, there was.

Unfortunately for the approching 'dragon, he was busy with a rather destructive and violent inner monolologue - he wasn't being attentive of his surroundings, which wasn't completely out of character. But, he was only like this when he assumed he was alone.

Quite a mistake in this case, one could easily assume.

Nevertheless, the simmering behemoth of a pendragon pads down the hallway, not silent, nor overly noise-worthy. He didn't care if he were heard; there seemed to be no reason to stay silent. He wasn't stalking anyone, nor was he trying to hide. Besides, he was busy arguing with himself over why he were here in the first place. He was past schooling age, so he seemed a bit out of place, but he had made his way here to probe the memories of all present. Which on some level, he found incredibly nosey of himself, and hated with a passion, but on the another level, the drive to find his quarry was too strong to resist.

In his mental ranting, and otherwise distracted state, he wanders, caring not where he goes, nor what rules he breaks. Therefore, down the lit hallway he saunters. He stops, flicking his ruby scaled wings in irritation.

He was depressed and pissed at himself. And this was just too fucking bright to be depressed.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>{Damn that god- and goddess-forsaken machina and their creator, whoever the hell they were.}</span> He grumbles mentally in subdued rage, and misplaced anger.

His chiseled head swivels left, then right, and lo and behold.. and darkened corridor - stairs leading downward.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>{Ah. Perfect.}</span>

He'd brood for a while. He was an expert brooder. No one could look more depressed and angry at the same time as he. (Or so he thought.) Down this blessed dark flight of stairs, he moves swiftly and skillfully - he wasn't going to trip down them like a pup trying on a new pair of gangly pubescent legs.

Now, hopefully, he'd find some alone-time in the dark chasm of the otherwise too-cheerful school..

 

Cynik stops his descent into the dark passage, midway down the stairs. The reason for his pausing in motion was the appearance of another pendragon. And Cynik was in no great mood for company.

But, seeing as he had intruded on this other, he would do nothing. Should he dance through this ones' memories? Examine his thoughts? Explore deep secrets?

Well. Maybe later. His mental presence was untouchable, and untraceable, so there was time enough for all of that.

For now, he'd ask questions first. He looks the other 'dragon up and down, sizing him up, perhaps looking for weaknesses and strengths alike. Big as he was, Cynik preferred not to fight physically. He could. Oh, anyone with his size could just sit on another and injure them. But he was no skilled warrior nor mage. He relied on tormenting their mind as distraction enough to escape, and then shapeshifting to hide.

Opening his mouth to ask the others' name and purpose, he stops and changes the question mid-thought, as something else catches his attention.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"Practicing ice spells in the basement, are we?"</span> Referring to the trail of ice marking the floor. Surprisingly still solid, and unmelting - the source of his mild apprehension.

Oh, the temptation to silently rifle through recent memories of this fellow 'dragon was overpowering. If he were to know his enemy, and his enemy was a mage of any sort, mental manipulations were in store. But, he had to be concious of any answer given, and when he worked his innate magic two things gave him away - a semi-vacant expression, and his brilliant amber eyes turning a milky, yet radiating, white when the spell was powerful enough.

The answer given would dictate Cynik's further action - forward, or backward. Press on fearlessly, or live to fight another day.

 

Cyniks expression slowly melts to something akin boredom. But he was anything but bored. He was tense. But he was hiding it as much as possible. Never show your enemy your weakness.

Not that he took Salty for an enemy.. ... well, maybe he did. But that's just because Cynik classified two types of pendragons: his loving grandmother, and then everyone else (whom he happened to have the worst opinions of).

Though, he did enjoy -to a point- what the 'dragon had said about others not appreciating differences. That he could understand quite well. Some didn't like others enough to have them murdered.

But he would control himself, and not flare into a rage over that thought. No. He was better than that. Well, best continue the conversation. His parents, and later grandmother, didn't raise a wild animal. He could be civil. He just didn't like to be.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"Well then. I'd best find the source. This place is run on machina, isn't it? If one of the machines are leaking magical energy.."</span> he really hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about. Engineering wasn't his strong point. But he knew enough about the subject to pretend. Easy enough to find a reason to leave, and be alone like he'd intended.

Cynik continues down the stairs, slipping agily past Salty, careful not to touch the ice. He didn't want to chance what he'd been babbling about was right, and that by touching the ice he'd be zapped.. or.. something. Magic wasn't his strong point, either.

\\ OOC: mwaha, you can trail after him in silence, or proclaim you're going with to save the school, or some such. mwaha! 4nnoy t3h Cynik! *grins!* ;)

 

\\ OOC: LOL, we're gonna have plenty of short posts coming up when it's all banter! :D

\\ IC

Cynik, trailing down the dark hallway, had the sneaking suspision he was being followed. Not only because he hadn't heard the pitter-patter of feet going up the stairs, or in an opposite direction, but he could still sense Salty's mental projection.

Pendragons were funny, in that way. Females culd do it innately, so they never really noticed, but the channels open to telepathic communication were basically one's mental projection - the magical part of your mind flung out of your body to commune with others. Each 'dragon had a different signature, even twins, which made it easy to guess who was coming up behind you, if you weren't distracted.

The ice trail seemed never ending, and many doors were passed along the way. But, now curiosity was going to kill this cat, as he wanted to know where it was coming from. Also, he couldn't just stop, what with Salty not too far behind, somewhere. The rouse would be up, and he would be seen as a liar.

Cyniks slows his meandering walk, and sits down, folding his draconic wings loosely. He tilts his head, almost comically, eyeing the trail of ice as it disappears under one particularly large wooden door. Pursing his lips in aggrivation, he just hoped it wasn't locked. .... Then again, if it were locked, he'd have no choice but to leave.

With an eyebrow twirk, he stands again and walks up to the door. He'd knock. Yes, that's what he'd do. He wouldn't even try the handle, because then he'd never know if it were locked or not, and then he could just leave without being bothered further.

Stepping fearlessly up to the door, as he was too busy tracking Salty's movements, and being immersed in his own thoughts to register the presense of two females behind said door, closes his digitigrade right paw into a fist and pounds solidly, but not aggressively, on the door.

Waiting a total of three whole seconds, Cynik turns around, preparing to leave. He mused loud enough to be overheard, but pretending to talk to himself, <span style='color:#FA8630'>"No one's there.. guess I'll have to find the janitor.."</span>

Ha. Little did he know, eh?

 

It was apparent that the Evil One also heard the slight thudding of encroaching paws, for she did not even acknowledge Okkie’s affectionate gag. Nay, instead, every last scrap of humor suddenly melted from Kakosenas’ being, and she was abruptly sinister and stealthily silent. Any hilarity that the younger female had pried from her was sucked back into the oblivion from whence it had come, and she was left with her sardonic crust, her only emotions now being rage, wrath, and bloodlust. In fact, every positive characteristic was blotted out, and it seemed that the Evil One had even forgot her affinity for Okkie… She sent a frosty glance at the banded female, slipped away from her, and then Kakosenas plodded like a mordant wraith to the door, upon which she placed one tufted ear.

Despite the terseness of this change in her comrade, Okkie was neither surprised nor affronted. Though it seemed that Kakos suddenly seemed to lack any sentiments, the Kanji-marked pendragon knew that the older femme was merely playing her part – this was how it had to work. After all, the two of them hadn’t come here tonight simply to smoke weed and tackle each other. No, they had a much more grave purpose. Tonight, they expected company, and the chance to finally construct the foundations of their cult, Shadowlack. Aye, Kakosenas had invited her choicest victims over, and now that the innocents were arriving, it was time to put a stopper in the repartee. Now, they had to get down to business, a morbid kind of business at that.

And, indeed, it was time. As Okkie stood back and mused over the beginnings of this deadly convention, a loud knock announced the arrival of their party. Finally. They had come, and the torturing and corrupting could commence. But – what was this? As Kakosenas responded to the knock by pulling open the heavy wooden door, she did not greet the faces outside with snide familiarity. No, instead, the Evil One reacted ferociously, angry emotions spilling like noxious poison from her maw. She spat and hissed and snarled, and it was immediately apparent to her younger counterpart that something was wrong… very wrong.

Tentatively stepping forward, not desiring greatly to interfere with Kakos’ bout of anger, Okkie peered out at the strangers in the hallway. They didn’t look like anyone Kakosenas would deem “worthy” of Shadowlack, and her suspicion that these weren’t the right guests were confirmed. Besides, what other than an extreme error could fuel such outrage from Kakosenas? Okkie could feel her devil-sister’s anger flooding her own self, congealing in her veins, and her mismatched orbs darkened with a brooding glow. Some wrong had been committed here, and if Kakos was angry, then by all means… so was the Angry One. After all, it was only her duty.

 

Cynik raises a jet black 'brow at Salty's.. eccentricity. And his ungraceful fall.

But the thing that really got his attention was finally noticing the mental presence of two other beings, and the fact that the door he's just knocked on had quite literally almost been swung from it's hinges. It really might as well have been: it crashed and rebounded off the wall screaming it's protest at the violent movement caused by an even angrier pendragon.

Being so mentally astute, it wasn't difficult at all to pick up the tonal quality of seemingly several voices, all shouting curses and explitives, angry minds, but the confusing part was they were all coming from the female before him.

Then, she had the audacity to order him, and Salty, into the room with her. Did she think he were crazy? She may be close to half his size, but he could sense danger. He was no glory-bound hero - he knew when to turn tail. This was one of those times.

In addition, Cynik was not one to often obey. He answered to no one, and gave few orders in return. But something told him that he should play this out a bit. See where it would lead. Besides that, a retreat was blocked, and the ice was turning into a sopping puddle beneath his paws. It's not like he had much choice in the matter.

Regardless.. he wanted to test the waters. He would obey. But he would push the envelope first. Even though he was no expert warrior, he could easily act intimidating.

Rising to his feet, the ebony and ruby 'dragon looks down at the ice-manipulating female. Flicking his scaled wings out, then folding them again, as if in irritation, he attempts to catch her gaze with his own. No memory tricks just yet - he wouldn't give away his talent so easily - just an old fashioned who-blinks-first-loses. Nevertheless, he never looks away from her face: a solid, unyielding stare, that held neither fear nor arrogance.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"As you wish."</span> His voice grates through each word slowly, almost patronizingly, as he starts to move toward her, the open doorway, and the room behind.

 

The goings-on in the threshold made Okkie crave a joint, quite badly. But she dared not attempt to take another from Kakosenas — that would, indeed, be a folly. She’d just have to swallow her hankering and wait until she had an opportune moment to sneak away and go roll a few in her dormitory. Or did she? The young pendragon had begun to fish in her many cargo pockets subconsciously, and though she expected to find nothing but lint and loose change, she found a roll of paper folded deep in one of her pockets. Momentarily unaware of the events unfolding a few feet away, Okkie gleefully grabbed the roll, and pulled it from her pocket. Indeed, it was a joint… a little old and a tiny bit crushed, but the weed inside was, of course, top quality. After all, she’d rolled it, and even if that had been a week or so ago, her store of marijuana was never less than highest possible class.

Anticipating a fresh lungful of marijuana, Okkie reached her free hand into another pocket, once again drawing out her lighter. She held it up to the tip of her joint, which looked just like a plain, white earthen cigarette, and a little flame popped up, much like magic. Almost immediately, sterling smoke began to wind from the tip of the paper roll, and Okkie sighed with pleasure as she exhaled. This quality weed would put her at ease for the moment… and consequently make this tense moment pass more easily.

Speaking of — Twelve turned her attention back to the matters at hand. She twirled her smoldering cigarette between two fingers as she peered with scrutiny at the strangers just outside the door. Kakosenas was dealing with them via anger and dictation, and Okkie’s wings twitched with nervous gratitude. At least this time I’m not the subject of her cruelty, she mused, and she found herself sneering slightly as she listened to the Evil One ordering the unfamiliar pendragons into the room, and as each of the males responded in their own foolish ways. Mismatched eyes widened briefly when the younger of the two strangers performed a stupid stunt in the hallway, but Okkie did not remain surprised nor impressed for very long. The smooth drugs sailed through her veins, and Kakos had the situation completely under control. These idiots could perform all the tricks they wanted… but they were still trapped, and they were still going to be locked in this room within a few moments, no matter what they tried to do.

“Ah… yes. You’re trapped, so… trapped. You might as well just give up and come quietly. You can’t escape, so don’t try. I mean, do you really want her messing with your cellular structure? No? I didn’t think so.” — And these were the Angry One’s irate, stoned additions to the current proceedings.

 

\\ OOC: Ready fer da ash'ho Cynik? XD *runs!*

\\ IC

Cynik resists the temptation to roll his eyes. The ice-femme's blather about her skills and detail on what she'd do to them was getting nauseating. This was something he knew. When he'd realized his powers, he'd studied medicine indepth. And, with the sheer fact of his being male, he couldn't resist a little jab back at her.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"Ah, my dear."</span> How patronizing. <span style='color:#FA8630'>"Have you never heard of antifreeze? Some animals carry it in their blood. Amphibians, for instance. They freeze solid and can be thawed without being harmed. The antifreeze keeps the ice crystals from slicing the cells up like a blender."</span>

He grins as he saunters deliberately by her, <span style='color:#FA8630'>"I find it fascinating."</span>

The flick of his flame-lit tail seals his little speech, as he completely enters the room. The purpose of speaking at all was to let her know she was not all powerful; that by default of being males, they had defences against her magic: whos saying they couldn't transform their blood to include antifreeze?

Well. Cynik had that much mental control over his portion of Fronima. Pity Salty if he didn't. Though, the serpentine 'dragon had lifted off an impressive explosion of fire. If pushed to the limits, Salty just might be able to turn ice-woman into a ball of fire, and her ice, a puddle on the floor.

Now inside the room, his attention turns from Kakos to the other. He raises an eyebrow at the speech of this one, and curls his nose and lip in disgust. The smoke was toxic, and not all that pleasant on the lungs, and this female wreaked of it. He'd smelt it before, knew what it was, and wanted to be nowhere near the stoned 'dragon. Intoxicated creatures were dangerous; to themselves and others equally alike. And as such, he wanted no part in her memories - druggies' brains tended to be a mishmash, the wires were crossed in one too many places.

Deciding to more or less ignore XII as a result of assuming she was simply an angry druggie, Cynik turns and sits, back towards a wall, front facing the doorway, and Kakos and Salty. Waiting. Watching. He'd escape. Even if it meant transforming into a flea. He wasn't above a flea, if the situation got desperate enough.

And somehow, he knew it would.