D'verin-t'soss

[*CheeseWedge]

"You're a sadistic little sod..." Ixia muttered, mostly to herself, her brow furrowed as she strained to hear the voice, even though "hearing" would not be the proper word for it. Her fingertip grazed so lightly the tip of the blade, and then drew back down towards the hilt, her eyes following the trail of dark energies that moved along with her hand.

"There will be no screams for you..." Her voice firmer, directed to that voice echoing in her head. "Not yet."

And what if blood would get this soul to open up? Reveal more of itself? Or would it give it more power, a link to having a hold over her? A small amount could not harm, a small taste. Though Ixia knew the power of blood.

To the edge of the blade her fingertip traced, and with the smallest application of pressure, a bead of crimson blood welled up. Tensing in her seat, she awaited some sort of reaction, good or bad.

[*Ceremorph]

Oddly, the single bead does not run down the blade, but rather sits upon the blued metal as if glued... and after a moment's time, it skitters across the blade to its center, and begins to sink into the metal, as if being absorbed by a sponge! Accompanying that is a soft sighing noise within her mind, and the maddenning whispers stop. But after a few moments, again a single word is heard, but this time it is a different word, and it seems stronger than any previous sendings.

"More..."

[*CheeseWedge]

Her carefully arched eyebrows raised just slightly, her dark eyes glued on that bead of blood and its rather short journal, followed by its demise. A blood drinking blade. She had to wonder how long it had gone without blood, if its previous holders had been weak cowards.

As her finger trailed over the spot the blood had vanished into, she spoke. "If I give you more... what do I get in return, D'verin-t'soss?"

[*Ceremorph]

*Something akin to a chuckle sounds, and a faint tingling emanating from the blade*

"Blood... power. My power.... yours."

[*CheeseWedge]

There was a moment, though only brief, where Ixia nearly panicked. She had not anticipated this sudden shifting of her consciousness, and at first thought that perhaps something had gone wrong. That something had snuck up on her, and hurt her badly, and she had blacked out. It did not help that all around her, and even within her now, she could still feel that vile energy, that aura of evil.

And then there was the drow male, and it suddenly clicked in her mind. She immediatly knew who he was. Of course, Ixia was still Ixia, and the blatant nudity was a bit much. Her cheeks tinged pink, embarassment obvious in her demeanor. She wasn't one, at least, to let such a thing get in the way of progress.

She settled her own smile into place, and she glanced over her own body, where cuts and scrapes had healed.

"Yours isn't too bad, either," she commented. "I assume those who tried to wield you before me must have been too wuss to spill a bit of blood..."

[*Ceremorph]

Crossing his arms over his chest and throwing his head back, the massive dark elf let loose gouts of laughter, shaking with it for a time before it suddenly stops and his eyes snap onto her with piercing intensity.

"You have power, for one of the cave-dwelling folk. Your mind is strong, your form pleasing to me. Does your desire for power match?"

Suddenly, without seeming to move, he loomed above her, his eyes boring into hers and his presence almost overwhelming in its pure evil. "Or will I wield you?"

[*Ceremorph]

Almost as suddenly as he neared, the massive drow was hurtled backwards. His eyes flashed hate for a moment, but then a sudden respect dawned in them as Ixia's mind held firm against his attempt at dominating her will, and more than a hint of calculation. As the image she found herself in began to fade about her, darkness slowly becoming once again the noonday sun of Brux, a final comment whispered from the dagger.

"Your mind's vision of yourself takes the unassuming semblance of a lowblood pleasure-slave... but your mind is that of a matron. You just might do."

As Ixia's vision cleared, the position of the shadows at her feet showed her that a minute, perhaps two, had past since she had been whisked away... where? Within the dagger? The depths of her own mind? But evidently the dagger had somehow managed to ensure her safety, for on the grass around her were perhaps half a dozen corposes, a mixture of the dryads and nymphs who roamed these grasslands. And every one of them with a gaping, bloodless dagger-wound over its heart. The blade itself shone glittering cobalt, bloodless and pristine.

In the back of her mind, faint chuckling and a sense of satisfaction could be heard as she surveyed the carnage.

[*CheeseWedge]

Ixia hadn't expected any less than for her mind to hold firm. Whether it had simply been her ego talking, or she really did know her own capabilities, was not quite easily determined. But her expression was a very satisfied smirk as the vision of the male drow was repelled backwards, and he regarded her with a new respect. You just might do, he said. Ixia snorted softly.

"I see myself as no thing similar to a pleasure slave or anything of low blood. I am a talented wizard, and I am what I have made myself."

Her tone was slightly scolding, with a hint of her usual huffiness upon feeling insulted. After one last quick glance around the carnage surrounding her, she stepped off through the swaying grasses to the portal back to Sigil, a question on her mind.

"D'verin-t'soss... What do you know of the people who tried to wield you just before?"

[*Ceremorph]

It takes some time for the voice to sound within her head again, long enough that she had considered it might be keeping silence again. But as her feet once again found themselves upon the cobbles of the Bazaar, a whisper, its tone dripping sweetness, slithered through the back of her mind.

"Except for the first, they were too weak. Unable to utilize this new life I have been given. Unable to accept the proper way of things. Unable to do what must be done."

"They were not you, Ixia Larkspur."

[*CheeseWedge]

( Edited, in light of new information! )

He was certainly laying it on thick. Syrupy sweet, in a rather cynical way. Even so, Ixia allowed herself to enjoy the praise at least a little. No harm, as long as she didn't let it get to her head.

"No, nothing like me." She agreed, weaving her way through the Bazaar with the intention of returning to her inn room. "You said except for the first. Who was your first wielder? And what happened to them?"