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feed your demons

They came—of course they came. They didn't have a choice, most of them, dragged along by the leash of his power. Some came of their own volition, and some came because they had no other choice. His eyes, burning with the lost hearts of his world, swept across the crowd as they filtered in.

First to arrive was, of course, his loyal Beloved. Kisamoa's gaze swept to her, and his scorched lips pulled into a smile at the sight of her. It twisted, baring teeth which should never have been fitted into the same, single mouth, and his monstrous jaws struggled with the expression. He gave up. Sincerity was not for him, but it did cross his mind that she was aptly named.

Some spoke up against him. That was to be expected, though it irked him on a personal level; hadn't his display of power in Helovia been enough? Hadn't he taught them to fear him, and to do as he said, and to show some respect? Teal lightning arced across his shifting hide, a promise of violence, a silent threat, as his gaze focused onto Erthë, the first to have spoken out against him.

"Hellhole?" he barked. "Hell-ovia, you mean. You and your people made me what I am—oh, yes, stitched together pieces of broken Gods. If it wasn't for your meddling, your interfering, your greed and absolute lack of communication, you would still be in your precious Helovia, with your precious mother," he finished, with a snarl. "I spare you today. Another time I will, perhaps, not be so merciful."

He was ready to abandon his whole scheme, to blast them all to oblivion and let his vacant hearts feed on the dust and splinters, but he calmed the lightning running rampant on his skin and felt his face pluck into a humorless, mismatched grin. Volterra leaned into Erthë. That was worth paying attention to.

The next question, like a bolt from the sea of silent bodies, was warranted. He turned his attention to Ilunga.

"I am your Gods," he simply said, three eyes of burning green flickering into life on his head before disappearing, amber stripes washing over his body in waves, "or what is left of them, anyway." There was an unmistakable softness in his voice as he spoke to the creature who had stayed behind and suffered with his lands. And the first voice of optimism and gratefulness was voiced by Zahra, a welcome change.

He was a spiteful, vindictive creature in many ways, but he had been wronged and forced. The one who had spoken bore the distinct mark of Helovia, though he could not recall having seen her when he brought the world down, so perhaps, she had left it behind. He flicked her a smile, grotesque for the way his body was warped.

But another, one of his loyal followers from Helovia (traitors?), was angry with him, and rightfully so. "I'm sorry," he says to Kiada's mind, a note of sincerity threading through the subtle, sinister voice. He was amused by it, because he was a piece of shit sometimes, but she had a good point, and with Erthë's open threats.. he couldn't afford to alienate her. "I suppose I'm just that fond of you." The truth of it was that the Helovian magic binding his blood to the amulet had backfired spectacularly, and he couldn't do anything about it. "I hope this gift will be enough for now," he goes on, and somehow, Kiada just knows that she can now call flame to the blades on her headdress—they will burn teal-and-black, because they were a gift from him, after all.

Life goes on, as does the protests; next was Sansa, and Kisamoa focused his gaze on her. "How selfish," was all he said, his voice an emotionless rumble. Idiot.

Their lack of compassion and understanding grated on him. Their judgment wore away at his patience. The void of power called to him, siren sweet. He had to cut the audience short, or he might.. do things to them.

"Live. Learn. Explore." His gaze smoldered, but no one died. "You will be rewarded."

And then, he was simply gone, leaving only a few, glowing embers where he had stood. All but one winked out, became nothing but black holes, but the last breathed out a puff of cyan and floated down Otem's lungs. Oak leaves, reflecting the current season, suddenly nestled in her mane.

The skies opened, a torrent of rain sluicing down from a bruised sky to drench them all.

kisamoa

i am kaos

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Thank you all for posting here! <3 Feel free to wrap it up. This thread will be archived in a week, on August 3rd. Each character that has posted twice before then will be eligible for SWP participation RF. Stay tuned! :o

Also a reminder that it's a great idea to have an Aspirations thread for your character!

KIADA: Item
Defensive: Rose gold headdress, with feathers made out of blades. Feathers can be set on black-and-teal fire.

OTEM: Vanity Magic
Oak leaves reflecting the current season grows in her mane.