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The Lord, The Lady CLOSED

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on Wed May 08, 2013 6:58 pm

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Espada
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Now, how many knew of this place?  There were rumors only, hushed whispers on the wind, said in the same breath as word of the Cold Lord.  The northern reaches of the Hueco Mundo, where frost reigned and a cold wind blew, where scant few were willing to walk let alone explore.  It was obvious, perhaps even too obvious, that one such as Saelien might live in the cold, but where?  Now, there was a question that only a few could answer.  It was a secret well kept, known only to those who served Saelien, and under arrangements with both the former Primera Espada and Captain Commander of the Gotei Thirteen, held in records of both the Espada and Captains only to be gazed upon when desperate need of Saelien was a reality.

For one would not simply find Saelien out on the icy plains.  They would not find him in a plain cave, a sorry hollow colony.  There were no great palaces in the wastes, no pristine fortresses that revealed an obvious location.  Saelien's home was hidden, and perilous to access, for there was but one path.  There were mountains in the north, some rent by great cracks after the calamity years ago, but there were a few that remained whole, and one of them had an opening, small and all but impossible to find unless one knew to look.    That opening led to a tunnel, and that tunnel led to a lair.

That tunnel, eternally watched over, led to Tessilith.

Saelien had built his home into the mountain over many years, shaping it to be everything he needed and wanted.  The Tessilith complex was vast, rooms and corridors carved into solid rock and well hidden from the outside world.  There were stores for food, quarters for the servants of Zemenios, and more.  Tessilith was decorated with whatever Saelien's people had chosen, for Saelien only lived in the place occasionally, when his work outside was less important than work he needed to do within, away from prying eyes and questions.

The cold throne lay near the very heart of Tessilith.  Saelien was seated within a room of glittering ice - columns, walls, tiled floors.  Blue flames glowed at the walls, burning cold, and the door leading out of the room was guarded by twin arrancar in lustrous, silver armour.  The throne room was one place that Saelien had personally constructed - the ice was all his ice, and the throne was connected to it all.  By sitting on the throne, Saelien gave the ice the power it needed to exist.  There was always enough reiatsu invested in the throne room to allow the ice to exist at least a week between Saelien's visits.

The path leading to the throne was currently occupied by a grand oak table, piled high with plates and silverware and food, cooked and uncooked, some from the human world and some from the Hueco Mundo - the fine food of the humans, flesh of humans and hollows and other spirits carved into carefully prepared meals.  Bottles of liquids - some alcoholic, others not - also littered the table, with glasses available made of ice rather than glass.  Chairs were at the table, but there were none sitting at the table.

Soon, there would be.  On arriving back at Tessilith, the Queen and her subjects had been taken to quarters set aside for them, complete with beds, wardrobes with various outfits and fine clothes for them, and access to the cold waters that ran through the mountain to clean themselves.  They had, in short, all the time they required to make themselves look and feel more alive than they had been before.  Saelien had left guards at each door, to protect their guests and to escort them to the throne room when they wished to speak with Saelien.

The feast before Saelien was prepared for them, for they would need to eat to restore strength long since forgotten to them.

To others, it might have seemed that Saelien had gone to great expense to treat his guests with such gifts.  To Saelien, such material was...easily given, to say the least.  He had lived long enough, and accumulated enough wealth in terms of manpower, owed favors and knowledge that simple things like food, drink and clothing were the kind of things that he could acquire at a click of his fingers.

He did not doubt that the Queen was wondering what great fortune had fallen upon her to go from her terrible fate to this place.  She was probably wondering why Saelien himself had come to rescue her.  There were many questions that could be asked, and Saelien was quite prepared to answer them.  He was simply waiting for the Queen to arrive - he himself was dressed exactly how he had been when they first met, in white and black.

Really, such a presentation was the least he could do for one who had been known as Queen.

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on Wed May 15, 2013 7:17 pm

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Pure emptiness. The colourless void of isolation was a peculiar comfort, its tentative embrace engulfing the soul of a woman who had almost reached her limit, whose light was on the verge of being snuffed out. This serene nothingness was a strange comfort, a tasteless, intangible host who thought it best to simply introduce a moment of peace after the turmoil that had lasted too long. Why had death not taken her instead? Had hell discarded her for something better? Was there a renewal of purpose for living, to protect those who were defenceless and smite those who crossed all moral boundaries. Apparently so since Fate deemed it untimely for this shining creature to fall into perilous darkness, the death of a Queen would be a highly sorrowful event, especially considering the shameful death she would have been given had she not of been rescued. Yes, the Eastern Monarch was alive, Miyoko Di Lottersztanna had survived her slavery and was now drifting amidst the therapeutic waves of her silent consciousness.

The slow burn of time was slowly healing her pain, the scars of two decades in captivity slowly wilting off of the Miyoko's porcelain skin like petals from a flower. The ethereal beauty was completely unattainable, her subconscious mind managing to create a cocoon of pure reiatsu once she had been relocated to the mysterious place of safety. The geisha remained in a comatose state ever since her arrival in Tessilith and it was a rather remarkable feat to create such a condensed sphere of healing reiatsu even when her body was beyond fatigued. The reserves of her spiritual energy had not suffered unlike her physical form, it had simply been repressed for the past decades in the futile attempt to heal any other slavegirl that did not possess the same power that the raven haired queen did. Miyoko was now safe and it was seemingly appropriate for her to naturally go into a more defensive mode, doing so as Arden's slave would have most definitely cost the lives of her sisters. The years of abuse and stress had all culminated during those last few moments in the slavecamp, so much so that the Queen had little idea of who had taken her back home with them.

After two whole weeks of tranquil silence and healing Miyoko finally emerged from the churning orb of Reiatsu, her bare form almost unrecognisable from the emaciated starveling woman that was valiantly rescued before entering the cocoon. The famed monarch had returned to her former ethereal glory, the startling youthfulness and immaculate skin glowing with the residue Reiatsu that still managed to cling to her form. All scars had dripped off her body all except one large pale pink gash that ran down the length of her spine, a foul reminder of what she endured during those twenty years of torture.

This rebirth into a more appropriate figure was met with a whispery sigh, a subconscious acceptance that she was free from her captors. The midnight kissed strands of hair trickled down her slender back like an obsidian waterfall, the remnants of her hollow mask poking out of her hair like thin ivory pillars, makeshift hairpins that were yet to be utilised. Whilst her moment of silent reflection was primarily focused on the pleasing results of her healing trance it was soon directed to the well furnished room that surrounded her. Ornate rugs, a grand bed and several items of clothing were neatly folded on a nearby stool. The touch of silk sent a shiver across her skin, it had been too long. A life as a mere plaything had stripped away not only her dignity but any articles of clothing, whoever provided them must have been highly wealthy to procure such fine garments.

After slipping on a pale pink kimono, emblazoned with lotus leaves and orchids, the geisha quickly tied the obi around her dainty waist, allowing the smooth silk to drift against her body like soft water. The sensation was beyond sublime, to finally feel something kiss her skin and protect what was left of her dignity. Quickly organising her hair into a neat bun, the forgotten Queen hoped to retain some resemblance to the hairstyles she used to have during her time as ruler.

Miyoko eventually found herself outside the room and into a dimly lit hallway, a stoic arrancar whose face was shrouded with a featureless mask stood at the ready when she came into view. The sight of a male admittedly made the woman flinch but she gracefully accepted the creature's arm as he silently led her to wherever it was that she was being summoned. His boots clicked against the stone flooring, a stark contrast to the geisha who had forfeited wearing shoes after she got changed, she enjoyed the feeling of bare feet against the polished obsidian earth. It was a truly strange turn of events, here she was, a woman who had only known painful lust for the past twenty years being escorted like a woman of royalty...which she was, but it did take some time getting used to.

After several minutes of silent twists and turns through the unknown labyrinth Miyoko was finally relinquished from the arrancars grip and delivered into what appeared to be a lobby leading up to a large door. The faceless arrancar bowed, swivelled on his heels and disappeared into the cold maze, the slight trail of his reiatsu still leaving an impression in the air.

Standing before her were several other women, all well dressed and cleaned, beautiful specimens who possessed some tragic perfection, as if their gorgeous facades could not mask the emotional scarring evident in their eyes. Yes, Miyoko knew the small collection of females on more than just an intimate level, she suffered with them. They were the remnants of the slavegirls that had survived the purging of Arden's camp. Only seven were present, her remaining sisters, who looked up to her as a guardian and a protector. Letting a cool breeze escape her lungs Miyoko tip toed over to the nearest, a young arrancar only known as Lillandra. She was a blonde haired woman with mask remnants taking on the form of a headband. She too had been a favourite of the slavers, often sharing the same bed with Miyoko when they were forced to please their cruel masters. This painful history they shared could not be forgotten, not would it ever be but it cemented the power of their friendship, one which was built on empathy and the need to protect one another.


"It's good to see you Lilly...not many made it out alive did they..", Miyoko asked, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder whilst attempting to find some closure in the woman's sad eyes.

"It is only you and us five that survived Madame..", Lillandra softly replied, the unquestionable sadness that swamped her tentative words all the more obvious when her tone broke for a mere second. For a woman who had been trained to never speak unless spoken to having someone converse with her normally was particularly dreadful, so much so that the blonde haired arrancar could not look her friend in the eyes when speaking.

"I see...", Miyoko whispered, internally praying to whatever merciful deity that existed that her sisters were now at peace, in a land far away from the monstrosities that had ended their lives."Where are we Lilly? Who is through those doors?", Miyoko questioned gently, glancing towards the two large arrancars that stood guard by the large door. It was a silly question really, Miyoko knew who had rescued her the instance her feet had touched the frozen earth. But still, she needed confirmation...to know that all of this was real and not some twisted fantasy.

"uhh...well...he has tended to our wounds since our arrival. He...well this man has taken care of us and made sure you did not pass away in your cocoon. Miyoko...we're in the residence of the Cold Lord..", the woman stammered through her teeth, the disbelief in her words surmising the theory that was plaguing Miyoko's mind. Death had rescued them.

Clenching her jaw and brushing a dainty hand through the obsidian hair, the ethereal beauty barely shook her head in disbelief, her furrowed brow mirroring Lillandra's own look of trepidation. Placing a gentle kiss on the blonde Arrancar's brow the geisha slowly made her way to the double doors, the two guards immediately straightening their posture as she stepped forward, her lower lip firmly clamped in between her teeth. It was clear that the other women were much to frightened to enter the room without Miyoko's lead so it was only until the barefooted kimono wearing royal lightly pushed against the door did they meekly follow behind.

Seated on a throne at the end of the large room was a single man, the only being who occupied the room before Miyoko's silent entry. He was handsome, like an ice sculpture made by the god of artists. The space only heightened the figure's imposing arctic status, he was clearly The Lord of this realm and it showed. Miyoko gracefully bowed before him, an act which was rare considering she was so accustomed to be the one bowed to before her captivity. She was now under the roof of Saelien himself, the fabled Lord of the north and man who had rescued her.


"Words cannot describe how thankful I am. Without your arrival I would have most definitely perished and my sisters would not have seen light of day ever again...please accept our humble offering of thanks because we have nothing to offer in return other than complete and utter gratitude..", the forgotten monarch stated out loud, keeping her head bowed as she curtsied once more.

From the hands of a slaver and into a king. Her life had now begun a new chapter.


on Mon May 20, 2013 7:57 pm

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Espada
Espada
Fear. Respect. Saelien could see traces of both - nay, more than mere traces for the former - on the expressions of Miyoko's comrades as they finally entered the throne room. He had felt them all waiting, most of them having woken up long ago compared to their recovering Queen, but not one of them had been willing to come and see their savior without their leader with them. They knew the tales - all knew the tales. The reality of Zemenios was a myth to most and a fact only to those in power, but the Cold Lord...now that was a legend well known. No man, no arrancar, became associated with death itself without good reason.

For once, however, they were all wrong to feel fear. Within the walls of Tessilith, they were perfectly safe. No one would be able to enter without Saelien knowing of it - his guards would throw away their lives to keep away hostile invaders, and the updates of Mors Anulus would inform Saelien of such, even if the intruders tried to stay stealthy. In such an event, retreat was simple. As for Saelien himself, he held no ill intentions for those here - in fact, there was the possibility that all those that had just walked into his throne room might have been returning free to the sands once more.

But he doubted that they would make that choice.

Rising from where he was seated, Saelien smiled as Miyoko gave her thanks. The Queen spoke what was close to the truth - the demon alone would likely have been saved Miyoko's life, given what Saelien had seen of the situation, but the lives of the others? Perhaps not. More, could the demon have provided the second chance at life that Saelien could? Saving a life was never the same as restoring one, and Saelien would do both. Still, words of gratitude were appreciated; it meant that Saelien had made a fine first impression. It was better to be seen as a savior than as a slayer...even if he was both.

"What else could I do, but help the one time Queen of the Sands?" spoke Saelien before gesturing at the bowing Miyoko. "Please, there is no need for such formality here. You may be a guest, but you are an honored guest within my home."

Stepping around the table, Saelien approached the group. The feast before them could wait, for it was simply to be the conclusion, rather than the initiation. There were words to be spoken first, questions to be asked and answered. Saelien expected questions unspoken but already formed, the question that surely rested on the thoughts of all assembled - why him, and why were they here? Another arrancar might have killed their captors for sport, having no use for the slaves. Others might have taken them for their own. Yet already here, it was clear that Miyoko and her companions were no longer slaves.

The lord of Zemenios kept no slaves. Those at the door, those who served to carry messages, those who had prepared the meal before him...whatever their lives had been before working with Saelien, they now worked as free men and women. Saelien treated those who performed their tasks well, who performed what they agreed to do without hesitation, as well as any man could. There were clauses to be kept, and some roles could not simply be abandoned, but still. For all those who held no dreams, for all those broken by life, for all those who needed a path to follow, Saelien was the answer.

"I asked you back then if you knew who I was. I can only wonder what tales you have heard, and why you think I came to help you."

Saelien came to a stop a few feet away from Miyoko, and tilted his head slightly in respect. He had already noted how different she was to how he had first found her. Back then, her beauty had been marred by her captivity, but now, cleaned and restored by her own power, dressed in elegant clothes, she was truly as remarkable as the stories had painted her. Saelien had not seen as fine a beauty in an age - and to find one with the former influence and power that Miyoko commanded was wonderful.

"A more formal greeting, then. Some know me as the Cold Lord for my home and my power. Some know me as the Living Death, for my skill and profession. Those in power know me as the Lord of Zemenios. You may call me Saelien, my lady."

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on Fri May 24, 2013 7:26 pm

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His words were smooth and controlled, as if he had rehearsed everything prior to her awakening. She was now completely subject to this man's mercy, she was but a woman in his house, an admittedly beautiful one at that. If they were going by the old laws of the centuries forgotten she would have offered herself up as his wife and confidante, but recent events had tarnished such an idea. Her purity was nothing more than a mutilated mess, the scars of a common whore...one who could never play a queen again. This silent contemplation was interrupted when she heard the Cold Lord approaching, the need to see him up close and personal hammering down on her psyche until she caved. Tilting her head upwards Miyoko was met with Saelien's handsome face, lightly inhaling his wintery scent as he bowed before her. The rumours were true he was a dazzling figure, if he was the face of death then she wouldn't argue against dying.

Hastily composing herself the forgotten Queen straightened her gown and nodded her head for the five other, much more frightened females to stand up...they were terrified of the man and rightfully so. They were arrancars with their blades trampled and their bodies scarred, mere plebeians to the grand figures that stood before them. The past twenty or so years had taught these women that men were to be respected and feared, an unfortunate mindset considering the Cold Lord was the one who rescued them from such bondage. But alas, their stifled terror was understandable and without the aid of Miyoko they would have never approached him...it was simply not right.


"My Lord, to be frank, such formalities are a welcome change for me...I have not spoken in over a decade..", the geisha stated in a measured tone, there was no deception in her voice, just the simple unfortunate truth. Her glimmering golden irises directly looked into his own. His gaze hid no ulterior motive, he was an honourable tyrant if the rumours served her correctly. This brief silence allowed Miyoko time to properly discriminate the small details that made this man such a perfect ice sculpture. Folklore finally got the facts right it seemed. With crimson lips pursed, eyes scrutinising the glacial bone structure and the arctic chill that exuded off his skin, not cold but a pleasant cool, was comforting rather than what her sisters would have felt. Unlike her she was immune to feeling a sense of cold, negative degrees was her neutral temperature. [color]

"It seems my reputation spread a lot further than I initially believed. But why, why did you come for me? A mere slave...and how did you track me down? I can't help but feel that you finding me was more than mere chance..", she stated, clenching her jaw and brushing a strand midnight hair out of her porcelain face, her gaze never leaving his own. The question had been weighing on her mind ever since awakening, what was the purpose for her revival back into the larger world. If it weren't for his timely arrival she would have perished or at the very least returned to the squalid cells of the slave camp. A fate that still frightened her even in this newfound freedom.

"As far as I'm concerned you were just a myth, a mere fragment of the wildest tales told by the silly proletariat and then you appear out of nowhere. In front of me. Where has the Cold Lord been all this time? You do know what happened all those years ago?", her voice had shrunk into a low whisper, the very memories of the apocalypse reigniting painful memories from the moment her crown was shattered.

The women behind her shuffled uncomfortably, their reactions to Miyoko's rather direct questioning of the feared Cold Lord greatly distressing them. She may have been queen but was she at the standard of this man, no one knew for sure and it would seem fate would determine whether such a show of strength would ever arise.

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