Caislin Hallows

Caislin Hallows vs. Naiser Vale : This is a tale of two villages one of medieval, one of modern. While there is a mysterious fog that connects them where the water divides.

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Midnight Reflections -|- Meeting with Lady Kalika -|-

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The moon was high, the large orb within the sky blistered with craters as the holes exposed, hung within the sky as stars scatted above. The billowing clouds a smear of grey covering some stars in a quilted blanket. The night was silent as she waited. Gloved hands coiled along a handle as she rose the lantern above her head. The melting candle glowing, a dim light welcoming her face. Pale blue eyes looked within the flames as she wore a silver hooded robe, white fur trimmed the raised hood, following the wrists and edges of the robe. It fit loosely along her form as the fabric kept the numbing flesh consistent. Her lips painted white as her ivory skin glowed.

Margo was angel among the walking dead, at peace with her existence. She yearned the attention of Lady Kalika as the two can exchange the truth beyond appearance. Things are more what they appeared. Margo followed the edge of the lake as she kept close to land. Her free hand pinching the side of the robe as to keep it lifted and pure. Her heels squishing in the soft ground as her eyes looked up at the trees. Silence is much like death, alone, empty.

Margo’s nostrils flickered lightly as she listened for the sound of the adorable creature. Much is to be taught, much is to be discussed. All within the realm. Margo looked at Kalika as an inspiration, a flawless muse whose yet to see the artistry about her beauty. Those sharpened teeth, that jagged smile, beautiful. Kalika was charming, Kalika was dark. If only Margo could look at her, so Margo can instill perhaps her final lesson on the creature.

Margo felt the touch of willow branches as the limbs entangled along her shoulders. A false hug as the tree embraced her. Margo stood still as her chest slowly rose and fell. The water a mirror, as the night had two moons, one far off in the distance, the other so close. Margo smiled at the sight. Kalika was a mirror, her true self so far away, the illusion of her twin inches close. She needed Kalika for the days to come, Margo needed her so very much.

Two morbid souls dancing a waltz forcing the woman to submit with false adornment. Her beautiful clothing, her pretty little face, all fake as she would spin on the dance floor. Margo felt the woman hated her, she felt the tension within Kalika’s gaze. Margo felt the anger, the hostility, the grinding of spikes along spikes as Kalika’s mouth would tense. Margo loved the woman. She knew the proposal she would give Kalika would be unsatisfactory, however, if Kalika kept face perhaps she would humor an old scholar just one more time.

Kalika Kali Ma

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Shadows fell from ancient trees, bleeding across the ground and over a pair of shoulders. Darkness slithered across her spine until the Unseelie hardly existed at all. If only it weren’t for those eyes, brilliant starbursts of death. Silver and black danced across her iris, stretching beyond the limits of human boundaries until the coloration disappeared in the socket of surrounding flesh. Thick lashes veiled such wicked eyes, kissing the rise of her cheeks every time they fluttered. Her form disappeared when she ducked beneath the reach of a branch.

Kalika reappeared as a doll; a beautiful dressed up maiden with honey hued flesh and amber hair. Her eyes were unnatural embers, the only bit of color that would cover the silver beneath. She stretched out in this second skin, pulled back her hair and tied it with a black silk ribbon. Instead of locks that ranged between start white to the darkest of darks, her hair appeared a mere lush brown in color. The soft tresses revolting their bindings, a few strands drifting down to frame her eyes and dance against her jaw. Her outfit remained the same, her power to change her entire appearance waning like the force of the sun.

She wore a robe that was surprisingly similar to Lady Margo’s, except it fell around her in a mass of crushed velvet. Darkness on the outside, blood on the inside. Beneath it she wore her somewhat usual attire: form fitted leather pants and a corseted top the would hardly keep the cold from her bones if she were any mere mortal. Boots made but a hushed whisper against the damp ground as she advanced, finally coming to the destination.

Movements paused, Kalika took in her surroundings and softly smiled. She had been here but once and it still brought comfort to see the dark beauty. The hidden dangers of the water and the caress of the willow. Except back then she had come as herself, her wings free and her skin a deathly pale beneath the moonlight. Tilting her head back she let the ancient power fill her senses, relaxing just a touch before she stepped forward. Kalika broke through the cover of the willow and smiled at the lady that waited for her.

In truth, she didn’t mind Margo at all. She admired the woman in a way, resented her in an equal fashion. Two sides of a coin, as always her reasons and feelings were torn. With a bow of her head, Kalika curtsied to the other. Straightening out she motioned to the scenery,
“What a lovely decision to meet here, my Lady.” Her voice purred with charm and seduction, as natural to her as the glamour she donned everyday. She folded her arms beneath her chest and leaned back on her heels, her gaze looking over the Formalities teacher and then the lake. She didn’t dare to linger on Margo, a beautiful creature that was just as dark as the Unseelie race. A monster barely contained within the confines of flesh, they both were.

Kalika figured the darling teacher had more control, more will power to resist the temptation. More power in general. The Unseelie Fae was starved and sick though she looked healthy enough, glamour or not. Glamour she refused to go with out was enough to drain her but there was another factor, a disease she could not cure. Iron ran through her blood to slowly poison her, this entire world full of its technology and knick-knacks would be the death of her long before the plays of the Courts.
“It’s a wonderful night to be outside.” Her tone was hushed as she curled her fingers in the vines of the tree, gently drawing her digits along the willows limbs.

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Eyes glowed listening to the soft steps of her adoring Lady Fair. Kalika arrived as she greeted the meeting with a whispering charm, Kalika’s voice like the wind, blowing into the scholars ear. Tempting. Margo turned her head as she watched the maiden curtsey. Margo bowed her head as her smile grew faint, instructing the point of her visit, the need of the two.

“My adoring Charmer, I called for you tonight, for you are the reason I am here. I wander at times, leaving the class as I am drawn to an easier place. Where the dead rise, walking along the living, thirsting for carnage, sweet, sweet flesh. Veins like streams blotting the skin in such beautiful blue hues, tormenting us. The pulse in the living’s neck, vibrating, twitching.” Margo would gasp as she described the sensation, her own hands moving to cup her neck as her eyes rolled at the memory. Saliva tricking out from the corners of her lips dribbling down her chin. Margo laughed lightly as she ran her tongue to scoop up the gooey self stimulation as she pushed herself forward brushing against Kalika’s flesh, pressing the Lady Fair into the bark of the Willow.

Margo tilted her head as she ran her lips along Kalika’s neck as she moved her lips towards Kalika’s earlobe. “My sweet precious little Fae, you and I are but the same. To tame monster dormant within, to withstand temptation with every whelm, to abide by law, to shrivel inside, yearning to unleash the monster.” Margo’s warm breath coiled along Kalika’s neck choking her with erotic play. A side never exposed by the scholar. Margo pulled away as she laughed lightly. “Oh my darling, we are actresses within the world. We both can play various roles, I such a Formal teacher, a humbling seductress, the prude! So many titles, so many divisions as we break our bodies own soul. I demonstrated a proposal. The reason why I asked you here is for I shall honor you in the weeks to come, a Masquerade where I yearn for you to be marveled.”

Margo laced her fingers as her slender arms moved towards her back, shoulders circled as she stood with poise, a statue before the maiden. “All shall be in masks, all hiding themselves. You milady are always hiding, perhaps it is time for a portion of yourself, your true self to enlighten the world.” Margo tipped her head as a few strands bounced over her face. “Unless objection is pleaded. You are so powerful my darling, do you wish for control? I wish for blood and I receive tea, sipping so lightly. My fangs sharp, as I grin with such grace.” Margo rolled her eyes lightly as her plump lips pouted.

“Do you forgive me? Forgive my wickedness as I subject myself to such torture? To pretend I do not hunger nor crave? Am I wicked? A man came into my classroom, no bible in his hand, no crucifix, no jury. No crime did I commit. However, so bold was he to shout Monster! Blaming me for thousands of slaying, giving me far too much credit. For am I a killer? A monster! I was distraught. A victim from banter, than….than I discovered such a tragic fate, he was a slayer, a murderer of the walking dead? My kindred blood hunters gone. What am I to do? Roam this world in their loses for I did not know them by name Milady.”

The Professor turned her head winking lightly at the maiden. “You see my darling creature, so lovely and poise. Do not fear persecution, for within this realm we have hunters, we have prey, and we have the omnivorous. Those who crave both sides. You play it safe by wearing a mask all the time, be true to yourself on that dark night, the moon shall be high, the stars sparkling. You My Lady Fair, are far more true than I shall ever be. For a scholar who pretends, can only teach what they repeat. Do not sell yourself short for if that slayer kept his spikes, and no longer kept to the Library I could be gone….forever. Do not allow others to limit yourself, be proud of who you are! You are My Lady Fair. If a Lord does not ask you, please walk with me?”

Margo giggled as she curtsied before the gem. “Be my Onyx, let me be your pearl. For that is what I am, a grain of sand who morphed into something more. A pretender for over a hundred years. A Fairy Tale savior who did not bake pumpkin pie……who simply gave a woman until midnight to be herself and find what she deserved. I can make you a coach, I can give you slippers, I can dress you so beautifully, but it is you they are coming to see so unexpectedly.”

Kalika Kali Ma

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Strike of a match to a container of gasoline, her monster roared in the back of her mind, the sound drowning out all other. Beneath the surface of her flesh it stretched, coiling around her bones and seizing her muscles. Digits curled, nails fashioned into the rightful claws of a predator. Lips parted to flash her fangs in a fair warning, the faintest hiss of a growl vibrating the cords of her larynx. Power surged to the surface, darkness ready to be claimed in one form of attack or another. It wasn’t sanity she warred with, but the desire for destruction, the need for blood.

Flesh against flesh and the glamour shattered around her eyes. From the touch of ember to a swirling void. Onyx and chrome twisted in a vague starburst pattern, pupil dilating until the color consumed her eyes and darkened her features. Hands moved to Margos shoulders and pushed against the teacher, dislodging her from such close proximity. It took everything in Kalika’s power not to strike her, not to reprimand her for the invasion. Being invited to touch was one thing, being cornered and having someone try to pin her was another.

The monster of her nature was unrelenting and it took her a handful of minutes to quiet the beast enough to pay attention. Even longer for Kalika to fully understand what exactly Margo had said. After all, when it came down to, all the Unseelie had been trying to do was not rip the formalities teacher to pieces with every ounce of power she possessed. That in of itself deserved a little recognition.

Perfectly delicate brow arched when she finally caught the words, when they all clicked into place and Kalika picked up the meaning. Lady Margo was talking, preaching perhaps, about being true to ones self. To remove the mask. The Unseelie nearly laughed.
“For years, my Lady, I was the monster I was created to be. For centuries I destroyed when I pleased, I took when I desired, I drenched our halls in blood and set our melody to screams. For decades I bowed to only my Queen and happily tortured even those of our Court. I do not deny what I am, I can never do such. Not when iron to my flesh renders it as helpful as mortal skin, not with this world sickens my blood while feeding my appetite for feeling.”

Arms spread out, digits stretching,
“I am a monster. I dress as a mere maiden, I fit in and stand out at the same time. Yet only three know my secret and that is because, in one way or another, I showed them. I give the world hints and I praise those who figure it out.” Silent steps brought her forward, stalking the vampiric teacher. “Smile for them Lady Margo. Show them how terrifyingly beautiful you can really be. For neither of us are creatures that should be tucked away for fear of what could happen.” Nails slid forth to glide along the contour of Margo’s cheek and down her neck, such a gentle motion for the monsters that they could be.

“If there is no King to my Queen, then I would be honored to go with you. To accompany a fellow creature of darkness. Tell me madam Margo, will you save a dance just for me? At the veil between one day and the next, will you tell the orchestra to play a song just for us?” Caress vanished as she stepped away, offering Margo only her back as Kalika looked over at the lake and its churning darkness. The water held still as polished glass. “What a lovely idea either way.”

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