Coat of Arms: Unsung Burdens (Selena/OPEN)

[altima]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i231/Lunar_photos/Altima%20Gear/ICON2-1.jpg);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: century gothic; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]The High Seraph[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; color: #680000; padding-top: 3px;]De mortuis • nil nisi • bonum [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]ABILITIES:[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]The air was tense, and the metallic pungent fumes hung heavily in this screenshot of a world. It was barren, and riddled with implanted keyblades as far as the eye could see. Gruesome, yet majestic like the capturing of a battle upon a canvas. Some of the world's most well-appreciated masterpieces were inspired by the concepts of war; a feat that was both impressive and appalling, just like the paradoxial minds of men. The angel traversed the lifeless soils with an impartial look. She was no stranger to the effects of war, as her home world had a very decorated military history to boast about as well. Seeing the hills and ravines littered with war affects that could make any looter drool was about as normal to her as seeing Mindflayers trap a poor farmer's daughter in the rainy season near Finath River. Her royally decorated coated self came close to one of the embedded keyblades, placing a single hand firmly around the grip. Up from the earth did that weapon come forth, at least for a brief moment. The weapon vanished out of the angel's hand and back into its erected location within this reality marble. It was clear to anybody who had the faintest understanding of the keyblade that someone like Altima could never hold a weapon forged within the light's intentions. Her heart had fallen to untold regions of the soul, to where even the Heartless did not know what to make of it. Altima wasn't really disturbed by this, as her servants had done much to compile all the information about this keyblade and its features. She had the very short pleasure even, to come across a pair in battle; despite it being naught but a brief exchange. Hardly could even call it that, since all they did was get squashed by rubble. [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]ACTIVE EFFECTS:[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]"Like the wielders themselves, the blades stand fast within this fragment of a world crafted by the whims of child's emotion." Altima spoke softly, as she gazed upon the hand that once held the mythical weapon of light. "Such a dutiful tool. It knows whom it must never betray and forever stands at attention. You are to be commended, as the living could stand to see the example that you have wroth forward." She left the weapon after a moment more to press on. There was work to be done after all. The mood also didn't call for desecration of the dead's memorial. Altima would keep that in mind though, for future encounters. [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]OTHERS[/style] [style= color: FFEAF2; font-size: 8px; font-family: century gothic;]Song- Immoral Melody	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]It was a few more moments of pacing before she got passed the sea of keyblades. They were peculiar weapons, and their users weren't too shabby themselves. A young breed of fighters it seemed, but not one to be taken lightly. Their unique style had something else to it, perhaps even a hint from the keyblades themselves? As farfetch'd as she thought, the angel could not help but consider the possibility. The keybladers certainly had to have been a newer in the archetypes of fighters. Hybrids no doubt, but with special properties of 'unlocking.' She had yet to be actually struck down by a keyblader, but the indication of the two from Beast's Castle spoke pages about their tactical value. They were indeed mighty and flexible units upon the battlefield, especially given that their weapon simply ignored reality's laws when it came to defenses. As young as children entering their puberty years could be considered dangerous opponents, with their rash form of attacking. Was it because of their confidence in the key's ability to strike an opponent, that they did not value the fluidity of other styles? Or was it simply because that there were no true veterans to impart their knowledge onto them? Many questions flooded the young bodied lucavi, who continued to walk past a less densely populated keyblade field. There had be a mass genocide of keybladers in the past, and her servants could not determine if there were any veterans of merit still present in this cycle. Not that there wasn't a chance, but she found it rather difficult to believe that an army of teenagers could be considered the light's best weapons against the dark. Her eventual goal of extermination of all life through subjugation or eradication would come across this roadblock soon enough, so it didn't hurt to consider the possibilities and plan countermeasures. Knowing that her opponents were naught but hormonal teens played a lot into her experienced favor; as they would not get the same handicap of pity that many of their other foes showed. Yet a new concept crossed Altima's mind. If there was such a thing as a light-sworn keyblade, would there not be something of equal value for the dark? Keyblades, as her spies had told her, were the weapons crafted by one's heart. This is why no one but the one it was forged from, can wield it...unless they too were a keyblade warrior. It was a vague description, but not one without possibilities. A pure light can be met with a pure darkness couldn't it? There was no theory-crafted law stating that the possibility wasn't there. There she stood, in the vast graveyard of warriors. Pondering about the mystery of this world's iconic weapon, much like the philosophers of the smithy would for their handiwork. Her trip now had a second goal. The first was to seek out the auracite reading that her spies had detected in this sinkhole of the galaxy, while the second was hopefully learning more about this strange weapon. If she came across a keyblader, all the better. Some experimentation may be just what she needed, especially if Altima could somehow gain one who fought for the darkness. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]MADE BY EMBLEM OF KHCMv4 [/style]

[Deleted]

It had been quite a while since the Nightmare of Hope set foot upon the grounds of this particular graveyard. The last time 'Artemis' had been here, she had turned a potential ally into a formidable enemy by saving him and his friend from death by the army of Heartless that seemed to swarm like flies. She frowned and placed her hand on top of the hilt of a nearby key planted in the ground. It still disturbed her that there had once been so many keybearers in a time so long ago, and that many of their graves are laid here as a testament to their memory. It felt strange standing in the graveyard of fallen keybearers as 'Artemis' remembered a time when she first thought that she was the only one.

What happened? The hooded Artemis asked herself mentally and lowered her hand so she could get a grip on the lone keyblade's hilt. She pulled the keyblade up from the ground, but the keyblade flashed as it returned to its proper place. Loyal even in death. The keyblade won't abandon its wielder. Somehow that thought comforted the lonely angel, reassuring her that her Heartsickness won't abandon her; that it chose her and seem that it will stick by her through thick and thin.

The cloaked keybearer raises her hand up seemingly reaching toward the sky and summoned her own keyblade. The thorns, the vine, the teeth that shaped a broken heart, and it's ability to poison had made her key unique. Among the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of keyblades erected in this gloomy world, Selena hadn't found an exact replica nor any keyblade similar to her own. It was nice to know that her keyblade will stay faithful to her even in death. She briefly wondered if the Hearts of its wielders crafted and molded the destined shape of the keyblade that chose them.

'Artemis' kept walking among the graves until her eyes noticed that she wasn't alone. Her head tilted to one side as she noticed the woman cloaked in white feathers. In honesty, the keybearer was surprised that the woman's white cloak wasn't stained by the dust from this world. It didn't appear that the woman had noticed her presence yet and that Selena still had a chance to walk away. The Nightmare of Hope wasn't in any mood for a battle and the woman didn't appear to be a warrior herself, just a visitor to the mass grave. The hooded woman turned around and began to walk away.

[altima]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i231/Lunar_photos/Altima%20Gear/ICON2-1.jpg);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: century gothic; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]The High Seraph[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; color: #680000; padding-top: 3px;]De mortuis • nil nisi • bonum [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]ABILITIES:[/style] - Used Master Teleportation to warp in front of Selena!	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]It could be called a cliche to have guests in worlds such as this one, then Altima would quit reading her fiction novels from the mortal world. Almost in a timely fashion, a new presence flared up to her attention. On higher ground no less. There was no malice, or if there was any...it held a far weaker body when compared to the ire of the lucavi. Much like the scenery around her, this one didn't have very many things that made her protrude. Altima ran into a lot of those in this generation. Cop-outs of what the peasants of the dark ages were. Except these cop-outs fought instead of tending to their fields or floors. She wasn't sure if the change was as welcomed as it intended to be, since it just made rats that much harder to squish. The game master that oversaw the fates must have enjoyed seeing Altima's hateful expression, with how often theses nuisances triggered it. Her irritation was mounting and began to display itself within the sudden drop in temperature in the passing winds. Lucavis were known to be demonic beings, but Altima did have an image to maintain as her pride dictated. Charging prana into her voice, it allowed the coming words to echo with an ominous vibe. "Rather rude of you to simply come and go in this place of penance wanderer. Have you not a speck of confidence so that you may introduce yourself in this exchange, or do you tire in your search to solve the missing link?" [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]OTHERS[/style] [style= color: FFEAF2; font-size: 8px; font-family: century gothic;]Song- skys the limit	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Her image would shift places almost immediately. Two beacons of light appeared in the area; one where she stood and one where she will stand. Approximately ten paces away, the angel reappeared to face the wanderer. Two stoic faces that may lock eyes with another, but the angel had no reason to not look her dead square. It was in her nature to do so, as it was the best way to start breaking down a target into quantitative data. A bent form, a hood to shield one from seeing her true form, and more befitting a wanderer with a dark past. She had seen many souls like that when it came time to judge their place in the after-life. Just what exactly was there to hide with this one? The possibilities were simply endless! Altima had so many to choose from in this rising light-show of fates. What she saw differed greatly from a normal mortal. It was not only the reality of what played out before her, but a vision of varied colors depending on who was there. Weakened as she may be, the angel sought to discern the elements muddied by a haze. Fates floated about the user like strings, and usually could be snapped just as easily. Every interaction caused a reaction, and changed what was to come. This was why tellers under Fortuna's guidance usually sought a medium to help filter such colors. The brighter their fates and experiences, the more jubilant of a life or grander of a hope they've had. Vice versa, darker vehemence usually was the sign of troubling times and matching feelings. It was a bit of a mess, but this one still followed the same guidelines. Pulsing with shades of violet, this woman's fates were twisted. Not to the point of a psychopath's, but definitely in need of manipulation. Perhaps the angel had come across a person who had been halted in a crossroad of their life? She could crack a smile to that. They were the most fun to string, for you never quite knew what was to come of it. Altima would have to choose her words wisely, as what would become of this woman depended on it. A sharp reaction or none at all? This was the witch's game she played. "Your eyes are distraught wanderer, though no excuse to a lack of manners within a place of reflection. A clear prospection does not simply turn for those with clouded eyes. As you could probably bore my attention with...given your path...no?" Altima began, closing her eyes to muse a bit gleefully. She had a playful smile that was demonic and innocent. It was probably what toys saw when a young one was ready for some rough-housing. The game needed to continue though. And it was Altima's turn to move a chess piece in this wasteland of a playing board. "Minds forever crave answers and logic. As does the roadless path each walk. Stay a moment and see where this may produce..or continue to remain in the rut of your junction? You can never know these things for certain...be it about oneself...or another..." No doubt the remark about the wings would catch her off guard. The scion eyes weren't THAT weakened, but Altima felt a need to have some leverage in a conversation such as this. A piercing fact usually did the job well, but this was a delicate bond she was trying to craft. One would need a common ground first, and maybe this despair the woman was in was due to isolation? Regardless, the feather mantle on Altima's young body twitched in ways that was not natural for the wind to cause. As if, it were alive or actual wings. The angel smiled a bit wider, opening her eyes so that her blood red pupils may see Selena once again. "Fates have a tendency after all...to give us moments that makes us believe the sky is the limit." [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]MADE BY EMBLEM OF KHCMv4 [/style]

[Deleted]

It was unsettled the lonely wanderer that she had been discovered so easily. Had she not been silent enough? Or did the darkness of her own Heart or her ability to use the keyblade become a beacon to this person? Either way, Selena hadn’t expected to be spotted so soon. It was a strike against her pride for her ability to stay under the radar undetected. "I wouldn't say it wasn't from lack of confidence. Did it not occur to you that I didn't wish to make myself known?" She took the insult in stride; it wasn't the first time that someone had accused her of being rude.

The dark keybearer blinks and what came next startled her; the woman had suddenly appeared in front of her. Summoning her own Heartsickness keyblade to her right hand, Selena immediately took a few steps back just to be safe. She stares back with her mouth pressing into a firm frown. Who was this woman that was so bold as to dare to approach her?

Underneath the hood where Altima would most likely not notice at all, Selena rose an eyebrow at her deduction. "Someone's obviously been reading too many fiction novels." Sarcasm dripped into her icy tone of voice as the cloaked woman tilted her head slightly to one side and began to walk past the strange woman. She ignored and shrugs off the remark about her wings. "You're rambling now." The hooded angel didn't see the blood red eyes or the strange movements of the other's.

Selena herself knew that isolation is but a choice, acknowledged or not. She chose her own isolation as much as it chose her. Circumstances, the different opinions of others, and past events play but a a part in that choice. However in the end, isolation usually became the person's choice. The Nightmare of Hope had already chosen her own fate and whether she knew it or not, Selena was already slowly walking a death march much like any other mortal.

[altima]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i231/Lunar_photos/Altima%20Gear/ICON2-1.jpg);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: century gothic; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]The High Seraph[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; color: #680000; padding-top: 3px;]De mortuis • nil nisi • bonum [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]ABILITIES:[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]"Snippy aren't we deathwalker? Denial has done well to delude your thoughts within this shade of nightmare fiction." Altima retorted, waving off the blatant disrespect that this woman had shown. It was true. Creatures and beings did many actions subconsciously, and it always tied back to the primal feelings. This wanderer, like the rest, was no different. The same as the rest of the flock. Forever trapped in their own pity and ego; chained along like a slave to its master. What a cruel way of life to subject oneself with! Altima simply shook her head and could not understand why mortals constantly returned to such an ending. It never failed. Words from the silver tongues of youth held the vigor and sugar coating of inexperience. Something that classic villains seemed to be well known for noticing in people. Going against the social norms enough to become the target of attention upon Libra's judgment. [/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #680000; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]OTHERS[/style] [style= color: FFEAF2; font-size: 8px; font-family: century gothic;]Song- Sword of Doom	[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Her obviously annoyed guest retorted one more time, and caused the lucavi to sigh in disappointment. Could this girl really do nothing but fit the stereotypical brooder who had given up along destiny's winding road? This winged creature's answers were simple and straightforward at first glance, much like how she presented herself. A shell for the world to see, meant to keep the true jewels hidden from prying eyes. Politicians were nefarious for doing this, as well as being exposed. She didn't strike the angel as one who played in that sort of game. Sadly for her, Altima did. The pale seraph, still hovering, shifted to a seated stance in the air and crossed her legs over one another. Her robes and mantle fluttered under the graveyard's fierce presence. Altima cupped her own chin in a thoughtful stance, narrowing and focusing upon this simplistic being in attempts to rend what emotional defenses were present. Sadistical pleasure could be wrought from spending a bit of time reducing a fortified position into naught but rubble. Time was something that Altima was not short on after all. "Oh? Accusations on the methodology of my speech? In contrast, my extended verbage has been naught but straightforward and does little to betray who I am; as opposed to the simplicity in your cowering choices. You speak in rhetoric, and have yet to address my first issue." the angel teased calmly, smirking after making a move. "It would seem your heart wavers before the greater sea. Your inexperience took the words for what they were and bit the bait that was set. Were it true, being your words of solitude, then you would have fled and continued upon the mortal's morbid path without any heed to me conversing. Which brings me to a new point:" Altima set another lure, to see how she would react. Unfavorable responses were abound, but this woman only needed to not bore the fallen angel. "What is it that you want from me?" [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]MADE BY EMBLEM OF KHCMv4 [/style]

[Deleted]

The decade the dark keybearer spent wandering the universe alone had been cruel to her Heart and overall personality. The 'snippyness' bit was one of the many results of this even if it was subconscious. 'Artemis' turned swiftly toward Altima. "And what exactly am I in denial of, gypsy?" asked the hooded woman, her voice irritated by the sudden accusation. Judging from her posture, did this woman really have nothing else to do other than to bug or to question her?

Altima was correct to assume that the way 'Artemis' presented herself was all an act, a facade. It was her shell, her armor, to keep herself safe from every enemy at the price of lacking any social skills to make and maintain friendships. It also prevented her own past wounds from healing properly, instead of festering and reopening whenever they wished. However, it prevented any enemy finding anything to use to their advantage; if she held anyone close, her emotions, her views. Anything and everything could be used and manipulated nowadays and no one else but the dark keybearer knew this all too well.

'Artemis' rolled her eyes at the tease and watched the lucavi float in mid-air for a few moments before turning around with full intention of leaving. However the dark keybearer had barely walked three yards away from her when the lucavi had accused her of a wavering Heart. She stopped and despite her own eyes hiding underneath the hood, glared back at Altima before returning to walk away. "Tch."

'Artemis' felt her right hand itching to summon her weapon of choice and was visibly twitching. She realized then that she had been suppressing the urge to charge at the lucavi to fight. Instead, the dark keybearer was walking away from a potentially good opponent. 'Artemis' didn't require or wanted anything from Altima so she suspected that the lucavi was the one who wanted or required something from her. Typical. Probably only wanted to use me. I do have a keyblade after all and I haven't been exactly discreet in keeping low. 'Artemis mused as she kept walking away from the lucavi.