Finalizing Luxord's total body art count…
Yeah. Lol. I've been trying to figure out how Luxord would look without his cloak and all. So… I've compiled the list of how I see him when I roleplay him. He's pretty constant.
Piercing(s):
LEFT: Three in lobe, two in cartilage
RIGHT: Two in lobe, one in cartilage
OTHER: Right Nipple, Tongue, and Ampallang (wiki if you don't know what this is)
Tattoo(s):
LEFT HIPBONE: Jack of Spades
RIGHT BICEP: Black widow with a dagger through it, pentagram gem in the hilt.
BACK: Whole design. Koi and Beta swimming with lilies and cherry blossoms. Colored.
INSIDE LEFT WRIST: Queen of Hearts and King of Clubs running away together.
RIGHT ANKLE: Weeping King of Diamonds.
LEFT THIGH: Sun/Moon design I created and is soon to be my own tattoo.
Scar(s):
LEFT WRIST: Old knotted scars over wrist, across the "throats" of the cards.
CHEST: A few bullet wounds over heart and lung area.
BACK: Whip marks. (Don't ask. I just imagine it'd be like that.)
So yeah. Hahahaha. Basically I was trying to figure out a constant form for him and this kinda turned out to be it. I don't imagine him with unblemished skin. He's an effing pierced brit who gambles and works with a dark organization that scares little children and tries to kill another little kid. THEY STEAL THE PRINCESSES!!! Hahahahahahah!!! So yes. Not sure why I had to randomly insert this nonsensical nonsense. But I did. Basically so yeah. Alright. Now for the story.
Bitches.
Lady Pickles aka The Cornflake Girl
won'tyoudietonightforlove?babyjoinmeindeath
This world is a cruel place
And we're here only to lose
So before life tears us apart
Death bless me with you.
-"Join Me In Death" by H.I.M
Love After Death
Prologue
I ran. I ran as hard as my feet could carry me. The bombs fell from the sky like fire. The ground rolled under my feet, and I tripped, colliding into the rubble of what once might have been a building. The concrete chafed my skin, my arms throbbing. I felt something warm trickle down my face, and when I went to explore, my finger came away with crimson life. I frowned and looked up. The sulfur in the air and the ash burned my eyes and I blinked, trying to water them, which made the ashes stick my lids together heavily. The vision before me blurred, and I tried to stand. I heard it before I actually knew what it was. That loud crack in the air, and the whistling noise of a heavy object heading down. I felt myself be propelled in the air and flying into a cobbled broken street. Hitting it wasn't the funniest thing I've ever done in my life. I could feel the skin peel from my face and arms, sliding across, the rocks being buried in my arms. When I finally stopped all motion, I didn't want to get up. But my feet moved, and so did my hands. I had a place to reach. Touching my pocket, I made sure the hard package was still there. If there was anyway to end a war, this was is.
I labored my breath, and stumbled, feeling my world spin before me. I couldn't go on, could I? But I knew I was stronger than that. I sucked in a hot air full of poisonous vapors like methane and sulfur. My lungs burned like an eighty year old smock addicts. Coughing, I felt myself hit a wall. Resting against it, I looked up. Before me, the general store was in shambles, what was left of the big window in front mirrored me. I didn't look anything like myself. My normally pale platinum hair was now black with soot. Same with my brows and goatee. There were various cuts and burns on a face I couldn't recognize anymore. My clothes were beyond recognition, in utter shambles around me. How could I go on like this, when I looked dead already? But the answer was in the eyes reflected back at me.
I turned to keep moving. The city was large, and with many winding roads, I knew for sure I'd get lost. But I just had to make it. Not only my life, but also the worlds. I heard screaming, and the repeated sound of a semi-automatic. The ratta tatta of the gun hit my ears like a merciless she banshee. The smell of corpses and death was thick and I felt sick. When turning another corner, I noticed a fallen group of our soldiers. Along with others. The enemy. Getting off the wall, I stumbled, bent over, nearly on all fours, trying to keep balance, as I fell headfirst into a dead soldier. The smell of his cologne and blood was so over powering I gagged and puked right on the spot. After hurking a few times, and many false alarms, I finally managed to right myself enough to look at another troop. Peeling off his uniform and weapons, I apologized profusely for desecrating his body. Had this been a year prior I might not have cared, but now I prayed to the spirit to please lend me his strength.
The pile collected, I stumbled around again, crawling into another broken building, the ceiling shaking and plaster falling down with every bomb shaking the place. I pulled out of my pocket an item the size of a lighter, wrapped in a red bandana. Setting it on the floor next to where I sat, I wiggled out of my jeans and shirt, panting for air. The extra exertion took a toll on the energy I needed to preserve. Peeling apart the dark green pants, I pulled them on, feeling the Kevlar in them, and the damp stickiness of blood from its previous master. They were a bit short on the length part, but I'd be tucking them into boots anyways. The shirt was a tight on my shoulders, but I could cope. Buttoning it up. Wrapping the Kevlar vest around me brought back some renewed strength. By the time the boots were laced up, and I had figured out how to put all the weapons back onto my person, I grabbed the small package. Snugly I shoved it into the breast pocket beneath my vest and using the semi-automatic, I stood shakily. My legs still screamed in pain, but now I felt safer. In a weird, shoot-me-I'm-the-enemy sort of way. It took some sort of reserve strength I had to pull myself from the building and look around. I recognized the streets, and images of happiness and joy spread through my mind. Children laughing. Women dancing. Men talking. Dogs barking. But there wasn't any of that now. Broken bodies lay on the ground. I could see the barber slain, his happy face forever frozen in fear. Fear and betrayal. I wanted to close his eyes; I couldn't stand seeing those glassy eyes look at me with nothing behind them.
Oh gods, what have I done?
I turned to run, tripping over the body of a child. Seeing the small little girl I'd once handed a flower to made my heart race, and I screamed in terror. I felt the blood rush from my head, and my world begin to fade. Fighting the feeling, I threw up again. What I was puking, I don't even want to know. But wiping my face again, I stumbled to my feet, and made my way to the center of the city. I ran down the streets. I think I stopped hearing the bombing a long time ago. Everything seemed more like a dream, and didn't feel connected with myself anymore. It just seemed to… out of focus. But I could run quicker, easier, faster, now. I ran past soldiers mowing each other down. Past the screams of souls on their way into the chilly embrace of death. Beloved, sweet, eternal death. I hungered for it. Needed to taste it's delicate lips, and hold it's frail body. To me, death is a person. Death is someone to love. For death I sacrificed my home, my world, my people.
For death, I'd do anything.
I don't know how long I was running, but I do know that when I reached the center, elation filled me. My hand gripped my chest, over my heart, where the item lay. Protected. Taking steps into the open, I heard the bullets before I felt them. The crack of the gun, and then a thunking noise on my helmet. I felt myself roll to the side, but I couldn't stop, wouldn't be knocked off my feet. I lurched foreword in a heavy propelling motion and ran. The rubble at my feet made me slip and tumble to my hands, so I ran on all four for a second before straightening. The bullets rang past me, and I prayed to any god who would listen for just a few more seconds of safety. Just a few more…
The church was beautiful, even in ruins. I slammed the door open with unnecessary force. The bang rang loudly through the hall, and down the long aisle to the broken pool. There were cracks in it, with the water dripping. The stained glass dragon behind it cast a colored fade from the smothered sunlight over the water, which glimmered. I stumbled and ran, falling on my face, sprawled over the marble path. I groaned in pain, but forced it back. I was so close. Getting to my knees, I fought hard, trying to get to the pool. My helmet fell off, and I leaned over the edge, gagging slightly, but my eyes caught sight of the pure beauty within. He was just as I remembered. Thin and frail, with the bones like a bird, ready to float away. His naked body was submerged completely in the water, which was actually from the fountain of youth. His skin so pale it glowed, and hair so vibrant it was like fire. The colors looked so out of place in this bleak world, and that serene look was like a last touch. A sanctuary from the world. Pulling the item from my breast pocket, I unwrapped it slowly. Time was on my side, and I displayed a vial with thick glowing red liquid. Blood of the greatest god, Zeus. It would bring my love back to his body, and free him from his imprisonment. Weakly I dipped my arm into the water and pulled his top half out, popping open the vial. Parting his lips with the frail glass I coaxed the blood between his white lips, and into his mouth. The crimson glowed, and shimmered down his tongue. I waited for something to happen. Maybe it wasn't enough? I felt the tears burn my face, and I choked, sobbing. It was hard to try and force my mind to try and think, but I didn't have time. I didn't hear them enter.
I didn't hear their guns.
I felt my body splinter, and my eyes widened in surprise. A spray of crimson splattered the glass stained window, and it shattered with whizzing bullets. I knew whose blood it was. I hunched over my love protectively, trying to preserve the body. I felt the rough stinging of more bullets, and heard the water splash. My vision began to struggle and fade, and I tried to keep awake. When I opened my eyes again, I looked in horror to see my love, coated. Coated with my blood on his body. Touched by worldly sins and disease. With a cry I fell back, ashamed at what I'd done, seeing him drop back into the water. There was a moment of silence, as I felt a cool barrel press to my head. My eyes slid closed, and I waited, hearing the clicking of the gun. But there was a boiling sound, and when I opened my eyes, it was glorious.
He was standing, his eyes alive, and with the fires of hell. Green and deadly. His hair sparked and crackled with energy, the water spinning around him. I lay there, watching with admiration and love, feeling my heart burst with pleasure. He was awake. He was back. And now he was very pissed. I didn't even have time to blink as he snapped his fingers, and those who threatened me turned to dust, floating away. He stepped out of the tub, robes from the shadows wrapping around him, cloaking him in darkness. The shadows caressed him, loved him, just like I did. I wanted to call out to him. But I wouldn't. He was busy, and had a mess to clean up. But when his eyes caught sight of me, the hard looked softened, and he walked over. I couldn't hear his footsteps, and knew he was probably floating. When he kneeled next to me, and took my head into his lap, I watched those eyes tear up, and he brushed a hand through my hair.
"You'll…. Fix… this?" I choked out hoarsely. I wasn't talking about me, but about the war. He knew it. He brought me closer to his chest, and sobbed out,
"I'm so sorry Luxord." His voice was like a symphony of angels. I cracked a smile at him, in hopes to assure him I was accepting of my fate. My world was blearing, and I raised a hand to stroke his cheek. It took the last of my strength, and my arm fell dead.
"Don't…" I rasped, trying to speak. "Just…. Fix it. All."
"I can't save you, you've already crossed the line, your spirit… it's already in my realm." He whispered, stroking my face, and clinging me to his chest. For an all-powerful god of death, he looked so vulnerable, so weak. So…
"Beautiful." I heard myself whisper as my world went black. It didn't hurt, and I smiled. Death truly was beautiful.
Hades screamed in pain and outrage. He clung his mortal love to his chest, and roared all his anger to his brother up in Olympus. He'd get back at him, he swore. Holding the hand of the man who'd freed him, he kissed the cold corpse lips and stood, carrying a body almost twice his height to the pool. Dipping it in the water, he preserved him for eternity. Beyond his grasp now, he hugged himself. He'd lied to Luxord. Luxord's soul was taken by Zeus and was now imprisoned for however long the God deemed. If the body wasn't preserved… then he'd be lost forever. Leaning over the tub, he looked up, eyes burning in livid rage. Humans were callous, but the God's had no reason to destroy just because they didn't agree with something. With a loud crack he blew the city and all it's people away.
The war ended that second. The god of death threw all the souls from the war, innocent and guilty, into Tartarus. The injustice of his beloved's death tore him to pieces. He threw his wife out of his home, and closed the doors the Elysian Fields. No one would enter the heavenly place as long as he felt the ache of Luxord's loss.
It took twelve hundred turns of the earth to bring an end to the pain.
It took twelve hundred turns of the earth to get Zeus to release the soul.
It took twelve hundred turns of the earth to finally bring Luxord back.
Twelve hundred years his body was preserved.
Twelve hundred years the monks passed down the legend.
Twelve hundred years before Hades brought back the soul, and reunited body and spirit.
Twelve hundred years to be reborn.
The baby was given to the monks to watch over. His body fresh, free of all markings of his past life. He was to be raised amongst their finest warriors. He was never to be taught of who he was. Or that he was ever reincarnated. So the boy grew. He became tall and strong. He looked exactly like he did long ago. He grew up in ignorance of the death god's blessing. Ignorant that when he turned thirty, he was forfeit to Hades. That he would be claimed once again.
During this time, the world had fallen apart. The technology was torn from the humans by the gods. They were forced to remember what it was like to rely on beings mightier than them. The old, and the new world meshed. Superstitious humans with really big weapons. It has been One thousand, and Thirty years since the war of all time. The one that knocked the humans back into their rightful place. Since Luxord's original death. Hades has been preparing for this moment since the beginning. He was going to make this mortal, this love of his, immortal. When he came to earth, he didn't expect what he would see. A warrior, marked and proud, with life beating at him.
He looked for the monks. He looked for the place. In thirty years he'd ignored the monks, he saw the problem of his neglect. Only one warrior monk stood, and he was in the belly of the demon.
Hades took on his human form again, and under the persona of Axel, infiltrated the enemies' ranks, and joined the officers. He'd win Luxord back, and then he'd destroy this earth and all it's stinking cockroaches.
It was a plan sure to win.