Questioning the Dark [Altima/Open]

[thesable]

Where will I end up this time?

Nero stood in the void, growing weary from the effort it took to hop from world to world. While there was plenty of darkness to follow, to guide him, he had been opening portals in various locations in a desperate attempt to find his way home ever since he'd risen. In some worlds, he'd stepped out to explore. In others, he'd merely shut the portal and continued onwards to a new location. Each instance was something new and foreign, something that the Tsviet didn't appreciate to it's fullest, for sure. Perhaps, once in his short lifetime, he would have been excited for new adventures and exploration. Sometime, in his youth, when he was still filled with a childlike wonder of the world, when he had dreams of freedom and doing whatever he wanted to do.

Now, standing in the abyss, the Sable finally had that freedom. He could go anywhere he wanted to go, he could do anything he wanted to do. The cage was gone; he was no longer a trapped Soldier, awaiting orders to slaughter, waiting for the next command or the next betrayal. There was no Restrictor to punish him, no chains keeping him tied up and away, but also ...

Also ...

Frowning, Nero held a his slender, tattooed arm forward and willed the void to part. He stepped out of the darkness and into the sand. However, there were no bright lights from the sun, nor any warmth. The portal closed behind him and the dark-haired man looked around to see, well, nothing of interest. There was an ocean, illuminated by the moonlight. As he stared out at the dark waves, he supposed he could see the beauty of such a sight. The ocean water was coming in steadily, brushing up against the sand. He took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the shore, glancing around a bit more as he did. There was nothing there but sand, rock, water, and darkness. The moonlight was the only light in the area, the only thing that seemed to make such a place even bearable.

The Tsviet watched the waves a bit longer, the aching feeling growing in his chest with each push and pull of the tide. He could no longer keep his frustration bottled up. The endless searching with no viable results was soon to send him over the edge. Nero touched at the fabric of his suit, over his heart, before dropping his hands back down to his sides and balling them into fists. He didn't ask for this. Being alive again was not something he desired. In death, he had found the ultimate way to remained attached to his brother, to be one with Weiss, forever ... Yet now, here he was, alive and whole, lost amongst a sea of strange worlds and faces, unable to find his way home, unable to find Weiss. Why was it so hard for him to navigate the darkness that seemed to connect world with world? Why were none of these worlds his world, his home? Not that Nero would ever call Gaia his home. Weiss, on the other hand.

Crimson eyes glanced up at the moon, betraying his sorrow, passion, and anger.

Weiss is my only light. I cannot live without him.

Dark and light needed each other. That much, Nero was certain of.

The Sable gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut, his body stiffening up in anger that hadn't taken a hold of his form since Vincent Valentine's repeated challenges against him. No, this pushed past the bodies of anger. Nero had been angry before, when they bound him in this suit and chained him up. No, this broke past those boundaries to something he hadn't felt since watching the Restrictor over power his perfect brother; he felt enraged. The Tsviet unclenched his fists and tangled his hands in his dark, unmanagable hair and pulled, taking a deep, hot breath against the metal mask in front of his face before letting it out in a frustrated scream over the ocean. By the time he was done, Nero was nearly doubled over, hands still clinging to his scalp, his own darkness trying to escape the restrictive properties of the suit and break free to join with the shadows dancing around him.

What am I supposed to do!? What is my purpose!?

[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;]"I did not take thee to be the type to bend down upon a moonlit shoreline. Beggars have more dignity than that." a young, feminine voice echoed from the sea. Piercing the darkness of the world was a beacon of radiant light falling from the star-laced, night skies of the world. It struck the flowing waves of the darkened are, but caused no further ripples to erupt from the central force. This pillar silenced the sea and all its apparent might. Perhaps it was because this area was not the true sea that was blessed by Calypso or Poseidon, or it simply could be the weight of spiritual pressure playing out before them. Whichever the reason may be, a pale girl no older than marriage age stepped forth from the light in an attire befitting for an apostle of the church. Her gateway beacon vanished once her robed body was fully out, and now let her complexion gracefully blend with the illumination Luna granted in this world of darkness. Altima was dressed in her guise once again, though perhaps this time it would not be needed. The atmosphere of this world was very bleak, and held weak signs of life all around. She didn't mind the change of scenery and pace. It was perhaps a spot to keep in mind if she wanted to simply be away from the havoc. Annihilating civilizations and spreading the fear of Lucavi within the hearts of man did wonders towards earning the attention of light-sworn heroes. Since the resurrection, she had been constantly traveling to the various realms and setting the seeds necessary to start a movement. A movement that led to a bigger picture. One that was more than just her and Ivalice, especially given how filthy the other worlds were within those war-tested eyes. They burned with a crimson vigor much like the blood spilled these past nights, as she sought assets that could be used later. Never a moment to waste, and never a time to second guess her judgment. Altima had been blessed with those traits by the gods, who wanted perfection incarnate. Though she could not satisfy her role, the pieces that made her gave a sense of identity that became unshakable to the stresses of reality. [/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;]Yet this man seemed about as lost as the rest of mankind. He was familiar, as a brief encounter within the gameboard in a children's storybook town was still very fresh in her mind. Just thinking of that fragment of her past brought some heat to her cheeks, though the angel remained stoic outwardly. She knew better than to give an open sign of weakness in front of strangers. Noble mannerisms dictated as such. The lucavi advanced upon the calmed water, with her dark presence seeping violently into the area. She did it not to show off, but simply let the excess amounts of magic expel to remind those who were in her way to realize who they were up against. Her heels never touched the ground, but she continued to walk under the effects of magic towards the shoreline. Tonight was another encounter with a lost soul, one of many she had come across as of late. What would this one bring to the table? She didn't know, but her instinct said it would not be anything new. "You had a better look to your eye back in that god forsaken excuse of a slum. I can see only someone who had their vanity stripped and pride trampled, upon a chariot's passing and unto the weaver's tale." the young voice said sweetly, opposing the pressure her presence naturally emitted. [/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;]She could see a use for this one. He seemed, and dressed, like a slave to a noble's whims. Degrading, but alluring to the devious angel. Those who were oppressed had little to lose, but all to gain. All opportunists like herself needed to do was find that trigger. The trigger to set off all that pent up stress, and truly reveal what type of beast lay underneath those metal restraints. What type of creature did he hide within? Was it a devil? Or a saint to be? The cat could be in the box. Or the box of this fellow was empty to begin with. The angel knelt down upon reaching the familiar being's front, letting her crimson eyes meet his. Confidence, darkness, uncertainty, courage, and so much more could be read on the reflected tablet of the cornea, yet what did he have to show? "Dependence, longing, despair, confusion, hate, uncertainty..." Altima spoke casually between them, as she continued to gaze into his character. The next part, would strike a chord...as it did to many others before him, "...love. A dreadful curse, but naught without a reason to ever subject oneself to it. You would know wouldn't you...? She teased him. It was all a coy to draw him out. Breaking through that bubble of frustration and come charging out with a fury unlike anything else. Perhaps it wouldn't even be a fury. This one had a unique twist to it. That's why she was playing with him now. He had merit after all. Merit that was worthy to be broken. [/style]

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

[thesable]

Nero fell to his knees, his hands falling from his hair and into the cold sand as he braced himself from falling forward. The silent wind and the push and pull of the tide were the only whispers of noise, like the void had eaten his frustrated screams. His despair went unnoticed, even by the very forces of nature in the land of which he'd chosen to finally give up, collapse, question. Did he have a purpose any longer? He was akin to a chained dog, unsure of what to do with freedom when it was finally attained. Would he continue to flee, not knowing what lied ahead, or would he return with his tail between his legs, not knowing why he was giving himself back up to the torture, but feeling compelled that he had to.

A sudden light illuminated the Tsviet's hands in the sand, and he reflexively looked up and out to the previously dark sea. A pillar of bright light had appeared in that brief moment, and Nero found himself instinctively shielding his eyes with his hands, as if the light would blind him in an instant. He moved his weight to his ankles, preparing to rise and meet this new this possible new threat until he heard a feminine voice echo out over the now still sea. Beggars .. ? He remained hunched in the sand, curiosity anchoring the embodiment of darkness to the cold sand. The pillar vanished, and Nero dropped his tattooed hands, looking to see who or what could have caused the very ocean itself to stop all movement.

What he saw, he certainly didn't expect. A young, ethereal looking woman was standing on the silent, dark water, matching crimson orbs staring back at him. She radiated the same pale glow as the moon; the compliments between the woman and the glowing orb behind her where striking enough to strike all sane thought from the Sable, to ignore the instinct in his very being that screamed retreat. His knees fell forward, back into the sand as he watched her approach with a haunting feeling scratching at the back of neck. She looked familiar, the girl did. However, he was much too struck by the intensity of her presence to remember where he'd seen her, and how he couldn't have recalled this feeling at that time. He observed as she floated above the water, walking on nothing but air, or perhaps the physical manifestation of her power. As if it were simply out of the question for perfection to touch the dirty, dark sea.

Was it an angel? A demon? Was she hear to guide him, release him, chase him, bind him, destroy him?

Nero had never felt such a crushing pressure in his life. Only around Weiss had he ever felt the physical effects of a powerful being's aura, and while it was enough to make him bow his head and obey his brother, which he would have done anyway, it was never enough to cause the very air to leave his lungs, to cause his hands to physically tremble and to make him want to back away, to leave. He, the Sable, a Tsviet, cowering under a goddess' might. The unrestrained, uneducated, Soldier within him bore its teeth and snarled, while instinct won over and kept him perfectly still, perched in the fine grained sand. When she spoke, her sickeningly sweet voice seemed to smack a disgusting bit of sense back into his mind, enough for him to process the words that delicately left her mouth. He watched as the mouthed words left her lips, his tactical mind racing to catch up with the sudden influx of stimuli, grinding through the petty speech to the true meaning of her words.

He was naught but a chained shadow, Foresaken, left to rot. Failed, failure. A Soldier without a gun, a tiger with no teeth, glaring through a cage constructed by himself, for himself, giving himself no chance at freedom.

But ... Was it of his own accord, a torture he'd subconsciously subjugated himself to? A life without his brother; it was something Nero had ever considered, not even in the very lake of blood he and the other Tsviets had been raised in. There was never a chance that Weiss wouldn't be around, it was an unquestioned law that the Immaculate was just as his title defined. Absolute perfection, pure white. While he, Nero, was the opposite, born from the same mother his darkness had devoured upon birth. Imperfect, swallowing black. A nightmarish demon, hesitantly avoided even by those physically and mentally stronger than himself. Weiss, however, would always be there for him, would always look out for him, would kill those that tried to tie them down and control them.

Weiss would always love him.

Or, would he? The ache in his chest, not from his heart, but from an unseen scar, returned to him. Nero fought off the dread, the rise of emotions caused by this woman's natural presence. Like the tide, Nero darkness was also standing still, completely halted in it's flowing movement. Wisps of darkness no longer leaked from the restrictive confines of his suit. It was stuck inside, boiling, drowning him, suffocating him like it never had before. His hands itched to tear and rip at the mask on his face and the suit that he wore, to release him from the pain of drowning, and if the darkness took the entire world with him, let it be damned. Let his own soul finally be damned to the curse he was born with. It had taken everything else, surely it would love to devour him as well.

As the young woman knelt down to his level in the sand, he attempted to gather his scattered thoughts and emotions, able only to reveal how he felt through his eyes as the rest of him was hidden behind the mask. It felt as though he were grasping at fleeting clouds, actually gathering nothing and watching as it all spiraled out of control and prepared to rain down upon him. She spoke again, repeating all of his weaknesses, his faults, everything that was currently consuming his being and causing him such confused pain and despair. He stared back with pleading eyes, a lost soul, searching for everything that was wrong so that he could fix it; so that he could cast out all doubts and pain, all the faults of being human, and exist in a state being not chained to the earth beneath his feet, but as free and consuming as the dark itself.

Nero would consume and destroy everything if it spared him any more grief.

The last lines she spoke to him finally caused Nero to finally gasp for the much needed oxygen he'd been depriving himself of. Love, love, love. The word he'd cherished close to his heart throughout his short life, the very feeling that kept him alive while chained to that god forsaken pole for years on end, the very drive he had to serve his brother and remain by his side for all of time. It was love. It was that very feeling of the heart that bound him to his lost brother. They were two halves of the same whole, after all, connected forever. At least, in Nero's heart and mind, that was how it worked. Weiss was white and he, the Sable, black. Weiss was the tall, strong, powerful. Nero was the smaller, weaker, manipulator. Together, they had been happy until .. Until .. Unforeseen circumstances caused them to be torn apart once more.

A dreadful curse indeed.

Nero willed what strength and sanity he had forward, and narrowed his eyes with as much hate as he could muster. In those few short, pondering moments, he'd emotionally exhausted himself. He knew the pain of love, all too well. It may not have been in the same sense as many others before him, but love was love. His dependence and adoration for his brother drove the sable-haired man to such impossible lengths, he couldn't even tell the difference between the man that was actually his brother, and his brother controlled. It had led to Nero's death. But, it had led to his soul combining with his brother's as well .. Good within the bad. But now, that love and devotion was causing him such grief, the man could barely continue to function on his own. How dare this woman taunt him as if she understood his plight. How dare she speak to him as if he were such a lower being, how dare she look upon his broken mind, splattered in the sand, the rocks, the water, the very air itself. Goddesses, angels, demons be damned.

How dare she remind him that he was a broken man.

"All too well," he whispered beneath the light metal mask, crimson eyes no longer bothering to try and betray his emotions to those who looked, "It would be too simple to ask you to leave me be, would it not?"

Slender fingers grasped at the sand, and Nero lowered his gaze from the woman. He was nothing, nothing but a broken man clawing at pieces to string back together. Nothing but a shadow in the sand that wished for peace. Peace through death, peace through destruction, peace in nothingness once more.

Why had Weiss cursed him so?