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Krystal Itzume

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Glass Shards [Closed]
« on: March 03, 2016, 01:44:22 am »
Between Stained-Glass and Monster-of-the-Week

Spoiler: Timeline • show

1890s: Seren dies.
1890s-1950s: Vastien spends time travelling, learning different languages, taking on supernatural baddies on his own and learning about them as well. More importantly how to kill them.
1952: Meets young Constantin in Romania. Black dog situation in our little town of Sighișoara. First encounter with Lord Florin perhaps. They come to an understanding and Vastien seeks his assistance with the black dogs.
1960: Vastien and Constantin meet Sylvié.
1983: The trio open The Devil's Water.
1993: Vastien goes to war in Hell.
1993: Dreamcatcher is broken. Seren is reborn.
1997: Vastien returns from Hell. Starts search for answers about who destroyed his tavern, search Seren's soul.
2006: Seren kills her new parents, summons a demon, learns of the war in hell.
2006: Seren is adopted by a priest and raised in a Catholic church; downtime to relearn what was lost.
2008: Seren gets Rottweiler, Baali.
2009: Priest is killed; Seren flees.
2010: Seren goes to India and meets Arjuna.
2012: Seren goes to Sighisoara, following the trail of Vastien.
2012-2013: Seren’s “tour of Europe and Upper Africa” (Lord Florin, vampire, contact)
2013-2014: Seren’s tour of Asia (Arjuna, Agni Guild, contact)
2014-2015: Seren’s tour of Australia (Gavin, werewolf, contact)
2015: Seren’s tour of America. (Johnny, human, contact)

Morgan Fitzhugh stood in the doorway of her daughter’s room and stared at the little child as she tossed and turned in her bed. Her hair, which had once been brown, was almost as white as if she’d seen ghosts. It held tinges of blonde to it, a platinum blonde color now, but it was so strange. ‘How could it be so light?’ Morgan and Derek both had dark hair. It had started to lighten when their daughter was two, and now….

It was as if God was trying to show that this child was not hers, something the young child had screamed at her so many times.

“My name is not Margaret! My name is Seren!”

It hurt.

“You aren’t my mother!”

Morgan did not know what to do to help her child. “What happened to you, Margaret?” She spoke aloud, her voice trembling as her daughter turned away, back to her. Morgan walked forward, steps hesitating as they touched the floor, but eventually, she pulled herself to the bedside.

Her sweet daughter had changed so much. Morgan reached out to brush the light strands of hair and thought of how odd it was that a child who looked so like an angel, could be so much like a demon. That was what her teacher had called to talk about. Her daughter, her sweet angel, had been drawing such terrible and frightening things. Demons, of course, but more—so much more. Angels with broken wings. Glyphs and symbols. She’d talked about how one of them would bring back her ‘Rottweiler’.


It was the name she gave to it, and she seemed to find it so delightfully amusing to call him a Rottweiler.

“Do you want a dog, Margaret?”

Derek had asked it, and she had answered that she did, but she wanted her dog. Her Rottweiler.

“We can go to the humane shelter, if you like. You can pick out your dog.”
Margaret had denied. Her dog, her Vassy, would not be there.

“My dog is in hell. My dog has forsaken me…he wouldn’t recognize me…if he cared at all….”

And then she would go so silent, so eerily silent, before she would say, “He’s a liar. They’re all liars. You can’t trust them.”

Dogs, it seemed, were liars. Yet it made no sense, not that any of it made sense. Morgan had no idea where this ‘Seren Vesper’ identity came from. She had never heard talk of an imaginary friend named ‘Seren’. It was such a strange reaction, such a strange behavior, for the child.

No pediatrician had any answers that were satisfactory. No therapist, either. Pills had been suggested, but Morgan had hesitated to give them to Margaret. “It’s just a phase,” she murmured to herself as her girl fretted beneath her blankets. She reached to pull up the blankets over the girl’s shoulders, “How can I help you?” She asked, but there was no answer, of course.

Just fussing and murmuring.

Morgan let her hand drop from the blanket to fall upon the sheets. Then, slowly, she rose again and walked from the room, leaving her daughter to her nightmares. 

« Last Edit: April 09, 2016, 08:35:33 pm by Krystal Itzume »

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #1 on: March 03, 2016, 01:50:27 am »
“My name is not Margaret.”

Seren had been denying it for so long, that saying it again was just routine. It was spoken in a dead tone. There was no more anger, no more frustration, at having to correct people. She understood why no one believed her—she was too smart for her age. Of course, her mind was not a mere seven years old. “My name is Seren Vesper.”

“Your name is Margaret,”
her so-called father, Derek, corrected.

she could not even be exasperated anymore, “That is what you call me,” she agreed, “but that is not my name. My name is Seren Vesper.”

When she was younger, there had been a time where she thought she might be crazy. However, as she had gotten older, things came into focus. Sure, her understanding was not complete—this was a child’s mind—but she knew that. She knew many things, and understood the idea of reincarnation. Karna spoke of it. It was not supposed to be possible, though.

Seren Vesper had her soul taken by the demon. It should have been devoured. It should have been destroyed. Oblivion should have come to her, but it had not.

Oblivion, in some form, had come. There had been an emptiness that stretched for infinity, and a second, at once. It had been white, and it had been warm, and it had been crystalline and clear. Beautiful and peaceful, where no thought and no feeling could be felt. In some ways, Seren felt it had healed the shattered soul by giving it time away from everything.

Yet, that peace had ended abruptly, and she was here—born again—as this ‘Margaret’. Except, she had never had memories of Margaret. Margaret did not have a soul to call her own. Seren had taken the body as it formed in the womb and been born. Even as an infant, all she’d dreamt of was her past life. She made it real—and it was hard. It hurt. Margaret was only seven, but she had all of her own memories, and the years of Seren’s memories, on top of it.

She hadn’t lived long enough to have so many memories, yet she did.

“Seren Vesper is dead.”

“The body that held Seren Vesper is dead. I wish I knew where it was,”
she didn’t. How could she? It was probably in England. She did not know if there would even be a marker. “Her soul has come to inhabit this body, because a demon couldn’t keep his end of the bargain.”

“Vastien Ba’al.”

A thousand times yes.

“The one you tried to summon by going to a murder scene….”

Well she needed a body and a soul. She’d been keeping tabs on police activity via a radio scanner. No one knew how she’d gotten that, yet. “If I am alive, something happened to him. I need to find him.”

“The demon who you sold your soul to?”

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

“Why would you need to be at a murder scene?”

“Because to summon a demon of Vastien’s caliber, you have to be serious. Last time I offered a living person. I trapped their soul, and I offered it.”

No doubt, the fact this was being said by a seven year old was difficult for all involved to take in, but Seren was so far beyond caring. “He still tried to trick me, but…demons,” she shrugged, “he’s still more honest than all of you. You, especially,” she fixed her eyes on Morgan, “you’ve done enough research to know I’m not lying. You know who Seren Vesper was. I know from the questions you’ve asked me. You know I’m not lying, but you keep insisting I’m your Margaret.”

“You are,”
but her voice shook. “I brought you into this world, I carried you, I loved you.”

The past tense didn’t go unnoticed by Seren, but she did not comment.

The therapist had more stupid questions. “And can you tell me where you’re from?”

“Essex. I was Countess of Essex. Seren Vesper. Look me up. I owned a candy company, Polaris. It might not exist any longer,”
she hadn’t seen any such candy, but then, she was in America. “I had competition—Berg. My father was Demetrius Vesper. My mother—”

“I am your mother!”

“You’re not,”
Seren corrected, and the woman slapped her. It wasn’t even stunning, though it was the first time she had reacted so violently. The therapist rose as Morgan shook, and he took her arm.

“Let’s go outside and talk,”
Derek nodded, mute agreement, and the three of them left to discuss their ‘options’ from this point.

Seren did not get up to follow, to eavesdrop, “Please,” it was spoken though she knew no one was there to hear. “Just believe me.” And she shut her eyes tight, knowing they would not believe her. Medicine or pills or something just as bad would be described. She’d have to go through the hell of doctors all over again, because she was too young—too damn young, in this world, to do anything.

‘Vastien, you son of a bitch. When I find you….’

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #2 on: March 03, 2016, 01:53:31 am »

Morgan and Derek tried so many things, and in the end, it was too much. It was too similar to what she had experienced in another life. They refused to believe her. So, needless to say, Seren ended them at the age of thirteen, when she had strength and cognition enough to do so.

“I’m not sorry.”

She said it as their souls twisted in the field around her, the agony apparent. “I told you who I was. Even the priest told you I was not possessed.” The priest hadn’t liked her much, he could sense something very wrong about her, but he had known she wasn’t possessed. “You could believe in all of those things, but you could not believe in reincarnation.” She was disappointed, more than she was angry.

She was disturbed from venting that disappointment when the room’s heat intensified. The creature that stepped forward was not Vastien, but Seren knew it wouldn’t be. She knew not how to summon Vastien himself, just a demon. This one was not as powerful. Its form was twisted, inhuman, and its smile was all canine teeth. “Hello. Which one are you?” Seren greeted as if they were an old friend.

The voice that came out was more feminine than masculine, “We are not on a first name basis, my pet,” it cooed, “though I appreciate your offering, it is not—” when the demon reached out to take the souls, energy from the circle lashed out at it and cut across its clawed hand.

“I do not really need your name,”
Seren stated, “I do not want to make a deal with you. I only want you to bring me Vastien Ba’al.”

This startled the demon, who gave her at first a confused look, before malice came to paint her face, “The one who took part in killing the Warden? No,” she hissed between her teeth, “He is as good as dead. The war in hell has most likely ended him and Balthazar, that treacherous bastard.”

It was inevitable, Seren supposed. “So you are Vastien’s enemy. I see.” And also knew nothing of the war currently, “No, not quite,” Seren corrected herself, smiling as she shook her head, “You are a coward who has fled hell to Earth. Well, then you are no use to me.”

“Who are y—”

The shrieking question didn’t get an answer. Seren dropped to her knees in the circle and placed her hand down upon a mark that was hidden. With a word, it awoke, and the two souls released their energy in the way an atom released its energy. It spread out from the circle, eviscerating the demon and destroying the house around Seren. She didn’t think this through; the roof collapsed not only around her, but from right above her as well. She barely had time to get out a muffled scream before she was lost to unconsciousness.

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #3 on: March 03, 2016, 01:58:51 am »
No one could ever figure out what happened to Morgan and Derek. They found the child, wounded beneath the house, and sent her to a Catholic orphanage. Seren had laughed herself to sleep when she heard what was going to happen to her, but didn’t even waste her energy protesting it.

They introduced her as Margaret Fitzhugh.

Once again, she corrected them. For as long as the social workers were there, they called her Margaret, but once they were gone, something interesting happened.

“Seren Vesper,”
the priest said, before he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “If anyone was going to come back, it would be you.”

Now it was Seren’s turn to be surprised. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know of you,”
he motioned for her to take a seat, and she did, staring at him from across the wooden desk. “I work with a group of hunters here in the States, dealing with demons. We’re not as…organized as your guilds,” he chuckled, “But we try. Your name’s come up a few times.” She arched an eyebrow. “Rumor has it, you helped defeat Lucifer.”

“I did,”
she wouldn’t deny it. “But…you believe me?” It was just so surprising, it was hard to wrap her head around it.

“Should I not? Your file indicates you’ve been calling yourself that name since you could talk.”

“You…read my file and you wanted me here?”
He nodded, “You realize I sold my soul to a demon.”

“And here you are…with your soul. Everyone always wondered what happened to you. Your story ends with Lucifer. No one is certain if that demon of yours killed you, if you betrayed the demon, or what happened.”

‘But you believe….’

She was still trying to wrap her head around it. “Besides, I can’t exactly oust someone Michael and Gabriel like.”

“I hate your God.”

“So do plenty of Catholics, every other year. So, tell me, Lady Vesper. Countess. How did your story end? How are you here, now?”

“That’s…what I’ve been trying to figure out,”
she let her hands rest in her lap, “I got my revenge, all those years ago. I saw Atreyu and Israfel die.” She looked to see if such a revelation would make him flinch, but it did not. So, she continued, “My parents were avenged. I honored the deal…I let Vastien take my soul. That’s the last I remember of that life. Then, I woke up, a screaming infant, some…what is it, a hundred years or so later? My demon didn’t honor our deal, but I do not know how I am alive, I do not know where my demon is, nor much else. I know there was…or there is…a war in hell.”

“Mm. Many demons have fled it and come to earth. It has been causing some trouble.”

“I know. I met one of the cowards.”
And had killed it. Seren hadn’t been happy with its inability to assist her. “I need to get to India, Father.”

He smiled, “Somehow, I knew that. Your answers for reincarnation may very well be there. I will reach out. Is there anyone in particular I should look for?”

“Karna’s family,”
Seren blurted, and did not regret it. If anyone was going to know or believe, it would be them. Certainly Karna went on to have a family. “His last name…it was something British,” his father had been British, after all. She tried to think, tried to get her brain to remember, but it seemed she hadn’t really ever used his surname before. “I…don’t remember.” She wasn’t sure she was ever told.

“It will not be difficult to find out,”
the man said, “There are true guilds in India. I believe if I follow the trails, I will find the way back to its origin,” and he rose then from his chair, “Let me show you to where you will be staying, Lady Vesper.”

And Seren followed, for once feeling as if things were going to change.

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #4 on: March 03, 2016, 02:02:19 am »
The new body learned to mimic the old in the years Seren stayed at the orphanage, under the care of the priest. She learned to pray, and she tried to pray for Michael or for Gabriel, but her prayers were never answered. Neither came to see her, though she all but screamed for them and utilized her rituals. The priest was always fascinated by what she could do, and she started to write it all down again.

There were guilds in India, and the first, it seemed, was the ‘Agni’ guild. There was only one family in it, and its surname was ‘Neveah’. It sounded right enough to Seren, but she was not prepared to leave immediately. She wanted to use the time in the safety of the church to let her body learn what it had once known.

How to fight.

How to move.

How to be her, even in this strange new era. She taught her tongue proper pronunciations of Latin again, and read, likely hundreds of books, while she was there—including the ones from India that were duplicates of things she had written herself, and duplicates of things Karna went on to write later. She learned her life again and what followed, studied up on history, and laughed at the downfall of the guilds in England.

Her candy company was now known as Ferrero, after Noel’s family moved to escape England, and was inherited by them.

Then, there was all the new technology to learn how to master. Smartphones, airplanes, the internet—such a vast area of knowledge, the internet was!


The teenager looked up from the bed she rested upon, reading through Wikipedia articles, to see the Father in the doorway with his hands behind his back. “I have something for you.”

She sat up, curious. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,”
he said. She did so, and heard his steps approach. One of her hands was taken, and a box was placed into them. “Not yet,” he said as he saw her eyelids flutter open.

Something was put before her face. Hot breath fell over her, and then, something licked her. She opened her eyes immediately, to see a Rottweiler puppy in front of her. “PUPPY!” It was so uncharacteristic of her. The small box fell as she reached with both arms to pull the puppy into an embrace and hold it against herself. It immediately began to squirm, sharing in her excitement with a wagging bobbed tail and small yips and attempts to further lick her face.

“I thought you would like him.”

Seren immediately got up from the bed, puppy still pressed to herself, and threw one arm around the priest, squishing the puppy between them in a hug, though it didn’t seem to mind much at all. “Thank you!”

He smiled, “What will you call it?”

It was immediate. She could not call it Vastien, because she still believed she would see Vastien again soon, but she could call it: “Baali!” It was cute, with the ‘i’ ending, and it was akin to Vastien’s surname. Plus, it was associated with both God and demons, having been a former name for God before God himself revoked it.

“Open the box now, Seren.”

And so she did, setting the puppy down on her bed though it immediately ran to her to try and get affection again. She let one hand idly scratch its ears as she used the other to open the box. There was a single ticket there, for India, with the pet passage already paid for.

“Next year,”
the priest said, “The Agni guild is expecting you.”


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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #5 on: March 03, 2016, 02:14:50 am »
A year did not pass before Seren had to leave the church she had started to call home. Her back was pressed to the wooden wall as she listened to the priest argue with a group of hunters over her presence. Again and again, she had heard the debates.

“This isn’t natural.”

Nothing about Seren had ever been natural.

“She made a deal with a demon. She’s corrupt.”

Of course she was.

“If she was brought back to life, there must be some nefarious purpose for her.”

Nefarious. She didn’t think hunters knew words that big—not in America, anyway.

“It is our duty to kill her.”

That was what it had started to boil down to, though the priest always argued on her behalf and tried to keep Seren in the dark, never aware that she was always listening. She knew how these went. Eventually, the violent side won.

So Seren was there when the gunshot finally rang clear, and the hunter let out a surprised, “Oh shit!” as he realized what he’d done. Seren pushed away from the wall she was leaning against then, and peered in as the hunters grew flustered with what they’d done—the priest was never their target, after all.

She memorize their faces, committed them to memory, and made a note to avenge the priest later.

Not then, no, not before she’d figured things out. Not before India.

Seren went to fetch Baali, who was waiting in her room, anxious, huge. Seren moved in silence and put the collar around Baali, though he was evidently irritated by it and the leash. “I know,” she murmured, “but the police don’t like you unleashed, and we haven’t the time to deal with it now.” The few things she needed were almost always packed, so she grabbed her bag, and with Baali, left through the window and ran off before the hunters ever went to go search for her.

She got lost in the city. She got lost on trains, through hotels, and every other means possible.

She started to go by the name Jeanne-Baptista Chanel, because only Vastien would be able to pick up on the joke if they crossed paths on Earth. If he found her trail.

When it finally came time to fly to India, she was using the name as if it were her own and had the identity established through some of the priest’s connections. The platinum hair that had been long was now cut short, and her attire could hardly be called that of a proper lady. 

When she arrived in India, she was not what the Agni guild was expecting, but the one waiting for her knew her all the same—a man with dark skin and golden-red hair, and heterochromatic eyes of hazel and blue. He waved immediately when he saw her, calling out: “Vesper!”

Seren approached him with a smile touching her lips, “Neveah?”

He offered his hand, and he had a familiar wicked smile as he introduced himself: “Arjuna Neveah. Karna Neveah was my grandfather.”

‘How time flies….’

“So, reincarnation is real. Huh.”
The man seemed a bit surprised by this. “Grandpa wasn’t so sure.” With her hand in his, he led her on to the luggage area, where her dog was making quite the fuss in his cage. Seren moved swiftly to retrieve him, noting how others seemed to be moving away and looking on with both fear and disgust.

“And some things never change,”
Seren muttered under her breath and cast a look to Arjuna, “Dogs are still not well-liked here?”

he shook his head, and was mildly amused at the reaction as Seren took the dog out of its cage and quickly put the leash on his collar. “What is his name?”

she answered, then snatched up her other piece of luggage, “Did Karna die…happy?”

“He died of cancer, sick and miserable and weak,”
the thought caused Seren to bite the inside of her cheek, “but he lived a good life. Come, I’ll tell you the story on the way,” as he led her out, there was a limo awaiting them, and he held the door open for Seren and slid in after her. “I think we all knew this wasn’t over. I don’t think any of us expected you to return, though.”


Arjuna crossed his arms over his legs, clad in navy, and said: “It wasn’t just Lucifer you destroyed. You also took out Kali,” he reminded, “A new Kali had to be born, but…well, she hasn’t. The world is in an odd place. Reincarnation is happening…abnormally. You are a testament to that.”

“Please don’t tell me this has to do with more stars aligning and moon stuff.”
Arjuna bit his cheek quite obviously. “Oh for god’s sake.”


“Never mind that. Tell me about the Agni. Tell me of Karna. Tell me….”
A hesitation.

“Of Vassy?”

Seren’s eyes widened a bit, and then, she laughed, “Yes!” She was hopeful that if he knew the name, he knew something else.

“I know little, but he had a tavern in Europe.”
At her hopeful look, he reached across for her hand, “It was destroyed.” Her heart sank.

‘That explains it, though, doesn’t it?’

“When we heard you were alive, we thought he had been keeping your soul safe, but whatever happened to his location freed your soul. You were lucky.”

“I wanted to die. Lucky isn’t what I’d call this.”
Arjuna flushed, uncertain how to respond to that, so Seren waved it off, “Never mind. I am alive,” she offered no indication if it was what she wanted, if only to mess with the Indian man. “Tell me Agni’s origins.”

“Well, it begins with Karna, of course. He came here, in the late 1890s, with riches and books. He dedicated himself to the life of a Brahmin for a while—that is, a priest,” when Seren gave him an annoyed look for the clarification, he continued on without hesitation, “he devoted himself to Siva again, to Kali, but taught a message of unity of all faiths, of their intermingling. He married, he had children, and he showed us the miracles he’d seen in London, with you. He summoned our gods. He spoke with our gods.”

For several moments, Arjuna was silent as he recalled that. “He talked with angels, and with deities across the world. He traveled to meet them, and he recorded everything, adding them to the Vesper collection. He wouldn’t call it anything else—he said it was his way of honoring you. He dedicated himself to learning what your family and the English guilds had known, and he spread it across the world, but some, he kept just for us. Everything Enochian, he kept for us. Everything you personally penned, or anything your family penned, remained here.”

He continued, “He thought that India needed a group to protect itself, too. He spoke with other Bramins, and created a few guilds here, as in England. The Agni guild is just his family, the way the Vesper guild was just your family. There is also the Soma, the Amrita—”

A short laugh escaped Seren. “What?”

“The woman who tried to kill me with Kali was named Amrita. Continue.”

He gave a nod, “There is also the Dharma, and the Avatars. The Agni does it all, but the others are more divided. The Avatars and the Dharma, for example, travel the world to deal with problems. Right now, the Dharma are focusing on demon extermination since many rose up here after the war in Hell.”

“Are you tied to the government?”

He shook his head, “No. It is…problematic, but it is how it must be. It is how those like us operate world-wide, now. In America, they flee police and FBI alike. Here, we must also avoid the government. They are in denial, and none are willing to help. Even in England, they deny the guilds ever existed. They have erased Vesper from their records.” He could see the boiling rage in her eyes, “Did you not want to die? Did you not want oblivion?”

Seren bowed her head, “I did.” Oblivion for herself. Not her family.

“We remember. Every hunter knows your name.”

“I know. I met them. They tried to kill me in America.”


“It doesn’t matter. I may need more information on those abroad, later. Right now, I’d…I would like to rest. I would like to see Karna’s writings, and the Ganges.”

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #6 on: March 03, 2016, 02:21:17 am »
The Ganges River was a place of purity, or so the stories went. Seren looked upon the polluted river, and felt her heart twist into knots. There was a great power just beneath the filth. She could feel it pulsing, even from where she stood on the shore, but it had been so corrupted. Arjuna stood besides her, “They say it was once beautiful, mother to all. It fed us, and this is how we’ve repaid it.”


Arjuna bowed his head. “I cannot control these things.”

“I know. I can feel it, though. It feels like holy water.”

Seren walked forward.

“Ah—I wouldn’t—”
not that Arjuna could stop her. Baali followed along at her heels, but stopped at the river’s edge, whining as Seren continued on, soaking her ankles, her knees, and eventually, going under completely.

It was a truly disgusting river, but Seren could feel so much more here. So much power. No priest needed to bless this water—it was pure, holy. It was a shame that humans did not take to the holy the way other things did. Yet, this water would be useful.

Seren knew she’d catch her death in the Ganges, and just as she planned to swim back up to break the surface, she felt someone grab her and pull her up. She didn’t fight it, and expected Arjuna when she opened her eyes. Instead, she saw a woman before her, someone in their 40s, who looked quizzically upon Seren once they were both above the water. “You’re human.”

“So are you,”
Seren pointed out.

The woman let her go, and stared at her for several long seconds, “You do not seem human.”

Before the conversation could go further, Arjuna had finally decided to jump into the water to get both of them, “Trishna, that is Seren Vesper! Seren Vesper, that is the leader of Amrita, Trishna Sitan.”

Trishna looked quite surprised by this, but then smiled, “That would explain why you appear so abnormal. Let us get you out of the water, it is not good for us, potent though it is.”

“What were you doing in the water?”

“I saw you,”
Trishna said as they swam back to the shore, “and I knew you were…knew you did not belong.” They pulled themselves onto the shore, clothes wet and dragging once they finally reached it. Seren shivered, but walked on, Baali quickly catching up with her and giving her a dirty look for her decision to go into the water.

“How do I look to you?”
Seren was curious. Others couldn’t tell just by sight.

“Like a Rakshasa. Your aura is polluted. Yet you were in the water as if it did not hurt you. I wanted to know how that could be. Now I know.”

Of course it made sense now. The Rakshasas were the demons of India, powerful creatures, but not always evil as Karna had said. Mostly. “You were the one who killed Kali, correct?”

“I played a hand.”

“And with Lucifer?”

“A hand.”

“You have tipped the balance violently,”
she sounded disapproving, and Arjuna quickly bore an expression that was urging her not to speak more, but she did, “You will have to fix it. That is why you did not get your wish, Vesper.”

“Really now?”
Seren arched an eyebrow. Ah, karma. “Trishna, that is your name?”


“Don’t depend on others to fix your perceived problems.”

A laugh came from her, “Coming from the one who consorted with demons to fix her problems?”

“I enslaved a demon to my will,”
Seren corrected. It was in many ways the harsh reality; Vastien had been bound to her, and for a long while, she had not trusted him. “There is a difference. Until you can enslave me, fix your own problems. Kali and Lucifer have been dead for a century—you’ve had plenty of time to figure something out.”

Trishna looked as if she’d been slapped.

Arjuna moved between them, “Let’s not fight. We do not even know why Kali has not been reborn, or if Lucifer would be—”

“He wouldn’t. Angels don’t have souls.”

“The matter of Kali is beyond Seren.”

Seren shifted her gaze to him, arching a single eyebrow in an ‘oh really?’ gesture, but not commenting. “It is not why she is here, either. She is only here to figure out why she is back.”

“Karma. She wanted oblivion but she did not deserve it.”
Trishna stated, point blank.

“You want oblivion?”
Seren had to ask. She was the first to speak of oblivion as if it were not a bad thing.

“It is the goal of all Buddhists, it is our belief, that at the end there is nothing. It is the goal of Hindus, too, but they prefer to call it a reunion with the force of life, the creator of all—even though it is much the same, a loss of ego and thought.”

“It is not the same, you crave nothing, ignorantly, and we desire reunion and everything, for we are a part of everything.”

Seren couldn’t help but enjoy as the bickering became one of theological tenants. She patted her side, and Baali drew closer so she could scratch his head as she listened, and absorbed it all, walking through the streets and by so many small shrines and large temples.


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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #7 on: March 09, 2016, 08:55:27 am »
Seren was gone. He held her in his arms and roared in the rain. Yet he could not destroy her soul, her time as Seren Vesper, her role to fulfill was over. Her soul would be kept preserved in his dreamcatcher created by one of his greatest friends. Earth was ruins after the demonic plague, it was extremely hard to cover up the attack on Earth but it opened the door for many whom feared to reveal their true nature.

If demons were real, what else? Anyone who suspected Vastien for anything other human was either dead or had kept their silence. He spent a lot of his time in all parts of the world. His vast knowledge of languages helped him fit in and blend with the humans. He spent years in his human disguise, those who needed taking care of monsters or anything supernatural voiced their concerns either in pubs or on the streets.

He'd take care of the 'contracts' and bring its head or something of itself to prove he had killed it. Nobody asked questions, no one asked why he did what he did, he was just a huge, hulking man with a sword and several firearms. He was paid just the same. Vampires? No problem. Werewolves? Ghouls? Demons? Hellhounds? Anything, no problem.

He opened a tavern up in Sighișoara, Romania. After a while it became a hunter's tavern to hunters only obviously, yet no one knew he was a demon. He left a huntress in charge who also was in love with Vastien. She had been his first in carnal relations with humans as a human and he could see why men liked it so much and why it was trouble.

Still, she had not known that he was a demon. He told and showed her what he was before leaving to fight Balthazar's war. He didn't love her back, he felt incapable of expression such emotion in front of a human again. It was the last time he saw her alive as well. She was also blonde and with emerald green eyes like a certain someone.


To be continued.


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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #8 on: March 13, 2016, 03:52:05 am »
"It was this teenage girl, she had a demon possessing her. Shit was nuts, I tell ya. This big bastard forced the demon out of the girl and tackled it out of a window. I shit you not, the demon was frail and weak before this big son of a bitch. He beat the demon to death with his appendages at full power. His massive hands clutched its throat and crushed its windpipe, putting an end to any fiery breath."

The demon roared in this shrill noise escaping from his wrung trachea and tried to claw him to death. Vastien ducked under a swipe and headbutted the demon, cracking its hardened skull. As it reeled from pain, the disguised demon lifted the demon as if tossing a garbage bag away and propped him up on his shoulders with ease. The demon proceeded to press the demon over his head and colliding with the ceiling of the bedroom.

The sickening sound of bone crunching broke the demon in half by dropping him on his knee in a spinebreaker. Vastien couldn't scorch the demon nor bring inches of claw into the other demon's head, there were other humans around. A young hunter at the time was following him and reciting a chant in Latin. Vastien would find this chant annoying his head a lot as well but he expected it and fought past it. The other demon wasn't so lucky.

The demon dropped lifelessly onto the ground, the whiplash from the impact broke its neck indefinitely, assuring the kill. If that didn't work, he'd soak the demon in holy water as an alternative and then roundhouse kick and snap his neck.

The teenage girl was passed out and Vastien checked her pulse. She was fine just exhausted.
"Your daughter will be fine, my payment now. Give it to the boy." Vastien's appearance was altered. He had a regular blonde buzzcut, piercing blue eyes and a blonde five o'clock shadow. On seven fingers he tattooed seven letters. 'F U C K O F F' if he joined his hands together.

The boy who collected the money was still alive and he was almost twenty five years older. He knew his friend's secret. Vastien the Bastard was a demon. Correctly aging himself appropriately but the demon trusted him enough to tell him.

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Glass Shards [Closed]
« Reply #9 on: March 13, 2016, 07:05:23 pm »
It was an appropriately rainy day when Seren Vesper ventured out to the cemetery with her tombstone. It was odd seeing it, and wondering if her body was under there, rotting. She didn’t know. Arjuna hadn’t known, but he knew it was there. Whether or not it was placed by Karna or Vastien was also a mystery.

Seren sat before it with Baali’s head resting in her lap, idly stroking the dog’s fur. ‘Sighisoara.’ That was her next destination. Arjuna said it was unlikely she would find Vastien there. The tavern was destroyed ages ago, after all, but it was still the next step. ‘Besides, I know someone there.’

A very old family friend. Whether or not he’d recognize her was the problem. Whether or not he’d still be alive…but he was a vampire. He should still be alive.

‘But with my luck, he will not be.’

She had hoped to find a Reaper here, but there was none. That, or she could no longer see them. She was starting to suspect the latter. She had been in plenty of environments where she should have seen them, but never could. ‘Perhaps it was just the arrangement with Vastien that gave me such a sight.’ The idle stroking of Baali’s thin fur continued as she let out a sigh. “Dead,” she mused aloud. “Dead and rotting, or cremated…I suppose the body doesn’t matter at all, does it?”

Yet she’d been so attached to it. She still hated looking in the mirror and seeing gray eyes rather than green. She hated how light her hair was. The golden locks were in her memory, but in the mirror all she saw was platinum. She was taller. ‘Stronger.’ That, too. She hadn’t lived the pampered life of an heir this time around, and still could not.

The Agni would support some of her endeavors, but she needed to start earning money on her own. ‘Barely know where to begin.’

Well, that wasn’t true. She had plenty of ideas of where to begin. The problem was starting and not failing. One thing hadn’t changed: Seren hated failure.

So it was that the next day she was on a plane to Sighisoara, and arrived at night. She had planned to immediately head to the address she had, but she was halted by a familiar face with a sign that simply said: ‘Vesper’.

“Lord Florin?”

He eyed her as she addressed him, seeming hardly satisfied with what he saw. “You?”

Seren crossed her arms over her chest, but before she could comment, Lord Drago Florin continued, “When the Agni told me you were still alive I laughed them off the phone. Still, I had to see. You claim to be Vesper?”

“I am Seren Vesper.”

He still did not seem impressed, but he let the sigh drop and he callously grabbed her arm and pulled. Seren didn’t stand a chance of resisting. He had all the strength of a vampire, and all the years he had been one. She stumbled the first few steps before managing to watch her pace so she fell in step with him. She didn’t speak, not until he dragged her into one of the family restrooms, “What exactly—”

Fangs to wrist. Seren bit down on an outcry and stamped her foot instead. ‘They don’t draw only blood,’ she was reminded of it when he shoved her wrist away and wiped the back of his hand by his lips. His expression was shaken out of its poker face; there was a dawning understanding.

“Do I taste like Demetri?”
She asked spitefully, knowing that he’d fed on him whenever he visited. It was the only safe way.

he sounded surprised. “I always wondered about the soul or genetics, but now…,” he knew it was the soul that flavored, and Seren’s soul was the Vesper soul. He had tasted it, and seen her memories. He saw none of this life. Only of Seren. He’d have to drink deeper to get the ‘new’ memories. “How…how is it possible?” Jealousy tinted his tone. This was a new form of immortality and he didn’t like how free it was.

“I’m here to figure that out. I’m looking for Vastien Ba’al. He ran a tavern here.”

As she relayed the story and told him the name of the tavern, his expression darkened. He'd heard of it. He hadn't cared about it, except to know it was full of hunters. He thought the owner a hunter, too, and only that. He'd occasionally send a spy or two of his own to make sure no one was conspiring against him. He tried to play by the rules, but he knew those didn't matter much anymore. The English Guilds weren't around. The Indian ones tried to keep order, but they didn't have a great presence in Romania.

he said, "That tavern isn't here any longer."

"I know that. I need to see where it was. What replaced it. I need to find the owner. He knows why I'm here."


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The French Huntresss/Vastien's Descent
« Reply #10 on: April 07, 2016, 06:03:53 am »
Sylvié was her name. She was a French huntress from Bordeaux. Vastien and Constantin found her when they were hunting down a gathering of bloodsuckers in Marseilles. They were holed up in an abandoned church and she had been surrounded by three of them. Four of them were dead with silver crossbow bolts in their chests.

Vastien thought he had seen a ghost when he stormed into the church. They were fighting by the ruined altar, Sylvié looked just like her. Golden blonde hair, lean, young and emerald green eyes when he got closer. He almost screamed her name out until Sylvié started cursing in French at the demons as one slashed her. Needless to say, Vastien annihilated the vampires and made them suffer as well.

The demon was covered in blood, Constantin nearly puked at how violent and gory Vastien handled the vampires. The boy was still learning at the time. He preferred keeping them at a distance and using firearms. Sylvié however watched in awe at Vastien's skill and training, perhaps seeing him drenched in vampire blood turned her on because she didn't leave his side since then.

Of course she admitted she didn't his help in a heavily French accented English. They split the pay and sought out other hunters and supernatural contracts. The two were romantically involved for years. The trio were an effective hunting team but they couldn't kill all the troublesome supernatural creatures.

Vastien was tired of living on the road and travelling to find contracts. He preferred to have the contracts come to him. So with his wealth he opened up The Devil's Water in Sighișoara, a very popular dive bar with all sorts of liquors, domestic and imported. On the front, it was just another tavern but in reality it was a hunter's bar. Hunters would come in, drink, reminisce about past contracts and experiences and most importantly they would come in to take or relinquish contracts.

Sometimes contracts were too extreme for some hunters or they didn't have time to do them. Perhaps, they had a lead on a contract. Depending on certain contracts, he'd entrust Constantin and Sylvié to go and investigate together or individually while Vastien manned the tavern. Vastien also peddled alchemy supplies and had a little shop under the tavern. In honor of Jameson and Seren.

However, Vastien did not live at the tavern. He had a quaint little cottage on a hill overlooking the bar. It was a treacherous and troublesome uphill climb if one was not familiar with the terrain. One had to traverse a small wood that surrounded the hill and which ultimately allowed one to scale the hill to the top. He and Sylvié lived there, he kept his most sacred belongings buried in the backyard behind the cottage. However, the dreamcatcher which housed Seren's soul was in the shop. He hung it up and placed it into a glass case. There was only one feather hanging on it and that resembled Seren's soul stored within it.

Vastien had been hunting with Sylvié and Constantin for twenty years before the tavern was set up. Ten years after The Devil's Water was opened was when Balthazar sent a messenger asking him to come and help him fight his war.

"I have to go." Vastien put it bluntly, Sylvié had her arms crossed with hot tears running down her face.
"I just do not understand why I cannot come with you."
"It's not your fight. It's mine."

Constantin sat with a glass of Scotch in his hands and sighed as they continued to argue. Sylvié did not understand because Vastien had not told her the truth. He couldn't. Sylvié would never look at him the same if she knew what he was and Vastien refused to let that happen. He said he didn't love her but he did care for her.

"You can't fight demons on your own, you will be killed!" Sylvié's voice was shrill and she was fighting back her tears as much as she could.
"I will come back, I promise you that. Both of you."
"If you walk out that door, we are through. Don't you ever come looking for me."

Vastien had a bag slung around his arm and he had his back to them, his hand on the doorknob. All she knew was that an old friend of his had demon troubles and needed his help. It wasn't a complete lie but he left out the important detail that his friend was a demon and he was one himself. The immense love Sylvié had for him was incredible, when Vastien looked into her eyes, it wasn't his demon influence that formed that love, it came from her heart not the manipulation of her mind.

They were all older now, Sylvié was almost in her 50's but she was she still beautiful. Constantin was in his mid 40's and Vastien looked like he was almost 60. Still, he was built like a bull and strong as ever. Whoever questioned it, Vastien said he was blessed with Nordic genes.

He wasn't sure when he would come back or if he would. He didn't know how bad the situation in Hell was. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"You said you would always love me."
"I know what I said, Vastien. But I cannot be with someone who will leave me for a friend I have never met on a suicide mission without consulting with me. I just can't."
"I am a demon."
"What are you talking about? Baby look at me.. please."

The demon did not budge rather the clothes he had seem to stretch at the seams as if they wanted to rip. Vastien grew several inches in height and Sylvié had difficulty understanding what was happening. Even Constantin stood from his seat, instinctively clutching his sawed-off shotgun. He hadn't ever seen Vastien's true form, just been told of it.

His wings expanded and reached their full length. Sylvié screamed when Vastien turned around and showed them what he was. Constantin was shocked.

"This is the truth. I am a demon and I must fight a war. That's as simple as it gets."

Sylvié ran out of the tavern and even Constantin did not dare to come closer. Instead, the demon approached him and narrowed his eyes. Constantin shook it off and looked up at his old friend.

"She'll be fine, Vastien. She just needs time to process everything, I'll talk to her."
"I want you two to look after the bar and the cottage. I will be back but I do not know when."
"That's fine. Just please be careful, old friend."
"You as well."

They shook hands and Constantin went over to hug the scaly behemoth before him. Vastien embraced the man as well and gave him a light clap on the back.

Sylvié was not outside when he left the tavern. Vastien sighed and proceeded to descend back down to Hell.