No, I won't fall for this again, I'll always see behind your smoke and mirrors. I know you love me deep inside, your simply caught up in
her lie
The soft tinkle of a bell could be heard in the depths of the castle, jingling in the distance as it called for someone to inform them the ringer was in need of assistance. It rang and rang, yet not a soul in the large fortress answered its beck and call; they merely let it jingle and chime for as long as it would. Marceline could hear the soft call of her father, the unmistakable ring of the bell his only signal for assistance, in which he didn't need. She let out a sigh of sorrow, imagining what it could be that he wanted from someone in the castle or even herself, thoughts that were instantly consumed in fear. However, she remained vigilant on her throne, staring across the room as if the last thing she wanted to do was get up and tend to him for something he didn't truly need. He was neither old nor in any need of medical assistance, he just used the bell because he felt like using it and it made him seem more like royalty. Not that he wasn't far from royalty either, as being her father, that signified to anyone that he was the king of the castle.
"Aren't you going to get that, Mistress?" one of her servants in the room called to her, "Master seems to want something and you know it's for none of us but you." Her gaze flicked toward the cat girl, a frown appearing on her lips as she heard her servant's words, afraid that they were true. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement toward them, then slowly stood to her feet and began walking to the throne room's door. The tinkling of the bell continued in a more persistent manner, urgent almost. . . perhaps even a tad bit pissed off at how long it was taking to be answered. It wouldn't make much of a difference but to make her father more mad than he already happened to be at the time. Procrastinating any longer on the ordeal would only make the situation worse, and so, she would exit the room with caution. Marceline did not like it when her father was angry and did not want to see him anymore angry than he already was.
The train of her gown swept over the black stone floor, dragging across the neatly cleaned ground as it traveled slowly through the hallway. Silence crept into the ears of its wearer, filling her with a sense of dread as she made her way down through the hallway to her destination. A soft howling could be heard through the silence, breaking it to mimic the moans of a tired man or a restless spirit roaming the castle. This sound did not deter or teeter the step of the woman, as if it was something she heard on a daily basis and was not afraid of it any longer. Black lips peeled up into a smile, revealing unnaturally white teeth of varying size and sharpness, canine tips poking harshly into her bottom lip. She smiled at the distraught moan of the lost spirit, like knowing the spirit was anxious and scared was entertaining to the woman. "Oh, my lovely, little ghoul, don't be afraid; before long, your spirit will be at rest and your job will be done," her silken voice spoke to the moaning.
Turning the corner, Marceline came across who the moaning belonged to, and the smile changed to a slight pout and sorrowful look. Her hand reached forward, the slender fingers curling under the translucent chin of the apparition, touching the ghoul as if it was a living being. "Why does my lovely servant wail? What ails you so that you cal out to me, your mistress, for the longing help that you need?" She clicked her tongue and pulled her appendages away, taking with her flecks of the apparition's energy, ever-so gently causing the spirit to succumb to permanent death. "Hush now, my dearest, your job is done; may you now rest in eternal sleep, undisturbed by the ways of the living, and may Death never call you for service." The blackened lips of the woman parted and a white light of wispy nature pulled in toward her mouth, being sucked in until none of the light was left. A darker grayed tongue in comparison to her paled gray skin licked over the black lipstick that coated her lips, as if satisfied by the taste of the soul. Clasping her hands together at her waist in a prayer-like form, Marceline continued on to her destination as if she had a purpose to be going where was was going.
Her pace quickened and before long, she had grabbed each side of her gown in a manner of a run, rushing down the hallway as if someone urged her to. Raven hair fluttered out behind her, the tail of her gown swirling and twirling, just barely skimming over the black stone floor. "Marceline, you're wearing my patience thin!" a booming voice echoed through the hallways, much louder than the wailing of the ghost had been. Fear glared through her eyes, widening the black abysses until the fiery orbs could fully be seen as bright lights in the never-ending darkness. "When I ask for you to come to my chambers, I expect for you to arrive in a timely manner and not keep me waiting on your dillydallying." She swallowed a lump in her throat, but she knew that not answering him would be cause for more punishment than was necessarily wanted. The haunting tune of a bell rung through the air again, causing Marceline to push herself so that she was breathing heavily in an attempt to get to him faster.
"Yes, Daddy! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, Daddy; please, will you forgive your dearest daughter for this one moment?" she called in return to him. Turning a corner, her paled hand snagged a doorknob and swung it open, sending her body through and slamming the door shut behind her. She slid down to her knees and pressed her chest to the floor in a bow at the side of her father's desk, expecting him to go belligerent on her. "Daddy, please, you must understand, it is my castle now, I have to take care of it first and foremost," she begged the forgiveness of Death. The cloaked figure had its back turned toward her, only its torso visible where the desk blocked out the rest of its body from view.
"What did I tell you before, Marceline?" he inquired in a condescending tone, so that she was able to figure out what she had done wrong.
"I'm sorry, Master, I did not mean for you to wait for so long of my arrival; I will make sure that it doesn't happen again," she responded to him.
"Stand up, you imbecile, I'm not here to speak to the floor; you know better than to lay on the floor anyway. Didn't your mother teach you any better?"
Marceline swallowed a lump down her throat for the second time that day and quickly pulled herself up to her feet, so that she stood nearly eye level to the grand figure of her father. "Mother wasn't there to teach me anything, remember? The birth of your daughter had caused her to get very ill and I was not allowed to see her." The back of a hand met her right cheek, sending a stinging pain coursing through her body and tears of black to well up in her shocked eyes.
"That's right. It was your fault that your mother died! You were the one who mercilessly slaughtered the one woman that I absolutely loved."
A stuttered sound escaped her quivering lips as she held a hand to the raw area of her earthen flesh, her eyes now downcast to the floor. "It wasn't my fault, Daddy! I didn't mean to kill her! I loved Mommy just as much as you! I miss her just as much as you. . ."
Another backhand to the face dropped Marceline to her knees, grasping the burning part of her cheek as she let out a wail of pain and guilt. "Shut up! Stop your screaming! It isn't going to bring her back to life! You killed her and now, you. . . you have to live with that guilt!" He brought a foot into her stomach, slamming hard into the core of her body, so that she was thrown back and winded from the force. Marceline tumbled backward into the wall, curled into herself to keep as much of the pain at bay as she was able to keep away. She let out a groan and reached an arm forward, grasping at the world around her to see if she could get ahold of something to lift herself up.
"Is that why you. . . c-called me down here? So you could beat the shit out of me over my dead mother and blame me for her death? You're so hung up on her, an event that has happened over twenty thousand years ago. . . Daddy, why are you still punishing me over this? Haven't I done enough to be forgiven?"
"Stop calling me that; stop assuming that I want to be a father to something as abhorrent as you are. . . you took everything from me. I wanted nothing more than happiness because I take and take and take; I finally get something I deserved for years and now, it was taken from me. Is that what I deserve or being myself, who I am? To have things taken from me because it's my job to take from people?" A fist rammed into her shoulder and pushed her into the desk; she merely gritted her teeth against the pain and waited for him to finish beating her up. He swung another fist at her face, the ring of his marriage cracking against her nose and breaking open a large gash across the bridge and splattering black blood. She raised a hand and lightly touched the appendage, wincing from the stinging pain of the gash and sharply pulling her hand away. Marceline kept her distance from him and stared quietly at the burly man, black blood running down her nose and across her cheeks to her chin.
"Master, please, you must understand that it wasn't my fault for the death of your loved one; her death was an accident, and can't you see her spirit?" She let out a scream as her hair was grabbed by a large chunk and she was forcibly pulled down to her knees in front of her father. He still held tightly onto her hair, staring down at her before spitting at her face, his saliva smacking against her left cheek. Marcy wrinkled her nose in disgust despite the pain, turning her gaze away from him so she didn't have to look at him. However, he yanked roughly on her hair until she was forced to look him in the eye, not an angry look on her face or a disgusted one, but love and sorrow. He caressed her cheek for a moment, lovingly looking her in the eye as he did so, smiling softly and looking slightly deranged.
"You look so much like your mother," he pointed out, her imagine wavering before his eyes at his touch into a pale blonde, "I hate it."
The man tossed her aside with such strength compared to her own that she slid across the flooring and into a heavy, book-filled bookcase. She coughed and pushed herself up to a slanted sitting position, her blonde hair shrouding her face from view, but black blood dripping to the floor. "Master, please," she managed out, never once looking at the man as she spoke to him, hoping that he would eventually stop the abuse. Yet, she did not move from her place next to the bookcase, but rather, she stayed where she was and warily lifted her head to look at him. By now, a decent amount of blood had spilled from her nose, a puddle on the floor had formed and streaks of it a mess all over her once-unscarred face. Her father only looked at her with a look of disgust, much like how she had formerly looked at him, but since changed her visage of him.
"I hate that you look so much like her; why did you have to take her life and then turn around and grow to look so much like her?"
Death crept toward her slowly, watching her with such sudden care that it brought hope into Marceline's eyes and she scooted a little closer to him. He knelt down and smiled at her, caressing her cheek and brushing her hair out of her face, "who did this to you, baby girl? Who hurt you like that?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest in a loving manner, despite all of what he had done to her.
"No one, Daddy, no one hurt me," she responded to him, her voice slightly muffled due to her face being pressed into his clothing. Slowly, he patted her hair, humming softly and murmuring inaudible words into her ear as if none of what happened before had occurred at all. Marceline curled up close to him enough that he managed to pick her up into his arms bridal style and simply held her there in his lap. "Daddy?" she inquired, lifting her face from his chest to look him in the eye, the look of a young, loving daughter there.
"Yes, baby girl?" he responded to her, his blackened gaze staring back down into her blue-hued eyes from her transformation.
"I love you," she stated, nuzzling her face back into his shoulders and smiling into the fabric of the tattered cloak.
"I love you, too," he murmured the answer, hugging her close, resting his chin on the top of her head for a brief moment.
She gazed up at him momentarily, then back to the floor she had collapsed on, looking t the drops of black that were easily found over the surface. Something felt different; she wasn't certain what felt different, but something to her definitely felt off that she just couldn't explain or give an answer to. Her father was acting strange, but she couldn't pinpoint what was different about him, just that he was more violent than usual, even delirious if she had to guess. Marceline felt him squeeze her shoulders and say something to her, but she didn't pay attention well enough to discern what the immaterial man had said to her. He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her face to look at him, instantly gaining her attention as if his words had suddenly become important to her. "Are you paying attention to what I'm saying, Marceline?" he asked in a hard tone of voice in order to keep her attention, as well as get her in trouble. Marcy gazed at him dully, despite moments ago having shared her love with him, finding herself unable to truthfully answer what he was asking of her.
"Don't bring him into the equation, please; he deserves a normal life compare to the one I have or the one I could ever give him," she stated. Death blinked at her words, confusion clearly showing in his eyes as he listened to what she had to say; the confusion quickly shadowed over by anger. She felt his hands remove themselves from her body, letting her weak and injured form fall to the ground with a heavy thump, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. The shadowed form of her father stood over her, the power and will he exerted a sensation that was strpnger than she was able to handle. A scream tore from her throat, a light pulled up and out of her body as one of the thousands of souls inside of her was removed, leaving her weakened. Another scream ripped from her throat, sending bone-chilling shivers down even the strongest of men's spine from the mere sound of it. Marceline rolled over to her side and curled into a ball, trying to protect herself from the pain she was feeling: an emotion she hadn't felt in millennia.
Bloody tears poured down her cheeks, creating streaks of black down her face and puddling together on the floor below where she laid. "Who is he?" her father demanded, glaring down at her from where he towered precariously over her form, the intimidation of his aura settling in. Her eyes opened to peer up at him, keeping her mouth shut in order to keep any important information from slipping out and being used against her. His hand reached out toward her in a claw-like form, pulling out a colorless form from within the woman's body, causing pain to course through her. "Tell me who he is or I will tear every soul out of your body until your nothing but a husk. Do you understand me?" the man demanded once more. A booted foot came down upon her side, cracking the bones that were beneath it and sending out cries of pain from her throat. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine; I have other ways of extracting the information from that pretty, little head of yours."
Marceline weakly pulled herself up to a seated position, only to be met by the powerful hand of her father tearing another soul out of her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her body falling backward against the floor with a heavy thud that would have easily killed a human. She blinked seconds later and gasped for air, crawling back to a seated position and glaring up at her father with both fear and immense anger. "I will never tell you who he is! You can rip every soul agonzingly out of my body and I will still never tell you who he is. . . Rot in the grave like mother!" Her words caused his anger to flare up, leaving her cowering to the floor and hoping that no pain would become of her in that time. No matter what she told him, she was always mildly terrified of what he would do to her, knowing that he was capable of completely ending her existence. "You don't scare me!" she cried out in the crippled position she was in, the very definition of being a bluffer about what she was saying.
His curled hand reached out to her, peeling out another soul as if it was just an item hidden in a box, and leaving Marceline breathless in the end. Her father's frustration at her words was enough to cause him to go belligerent, tearing out every soul from her body that he knew would be in her. Each soul removed caused her to grow weaker, but she would fight against him, still refusing to give him the information that he wanted. It was only when he was reaching the end of her souls that he paused and stared at the one that was grasped inside of his hand. He smirked at it, then looked down at the weakened form of his daughter, then swallowed the soul as if it was the most delicious thing in the world. Death licked his lips terrifyingly in front of Marceline, then crept slowly around her, as if he was sizing her up and contemplating on what to do. "I told you that I would get the needed information out of you, not matter how you forced me to do it," he retorted to her still form.
"Leave him alone, Daddy; I love him," she murmured from her place below him, her eyes trying to follow him through blurry vision. "He didn't do anything, there is no need for you to go after him. Please, just leave him alone and let him live the life he deserves."
The silence in the air told her otherwise, but she still hoped that he would listen to her words and leave Kite alone, kill her instead. "I can't have something corrupting the mind of my servant and to assure it doesn't continue, I must kill him or otherwise get rid of him," he stated. Glancing down at her, Death ripped out the last soul that was keeping her alive, leaving her body as an empty husk of what it used to be. He bent down and picked her up, slinging her clumsily and carelessly over his shoulder before exiting his room and setting out on his journey. Death wasn't searching to kill him; no, Death had something else in his mind for the man, something Death was certain he would not be able to turn down. If it was true just how important this boy was to his daughter, then it was likewise that she was just as important to him. Not claiming him for his own army of dead, but putting him under servitude by means of some uncanny reasoning was something he was known for.
No one inquired what was going on as the king passed them in the hallway; they merely watched as he walked with daughter in tow. Their eyes were widened, their mouths slightly agape, but none said a single word to the man in fear of what he would do. There was a reasoning behind his motives that no one knew, and none dared question what he was doing with his daughter slung over his shoulder. His gaze raked over each and every one of the servants that had gathered in the hallway after hearing the commotion in his chambers. However, it was just a passing glance meant to keep them in order as he made his way through the castle and into the lands of Sin. A hushed whisper rose over the servants once the king had exited the castle in its entirety, wondering what he was planning to do. Yet, with no knowledge behind the stillness of their mistress, the servants merely went back to work in hope of everything returning to normal.
Standing before the large gates of the building, Death stared up at the potent structure, looking it over to size it up. Seconds later, his body and the body of Marceline immaterialized, becoming flecks of invisible Nether in the air. These flecks squeezed in through the slit of the doors that were jammed together in order to keep them closed, then made their way inside. The build was as busy as ever, but as long as Death kept up the invisibility, neither would be spotted by the members of the guild. Happiness. It disgusted him, but he had no other reason to stop and ruin their day, especially since it would be out of his way. Ignoring their laughter and jolliness, Death shifted his direction and headed down a hallway that was dimly lit compared to the rest of the building. Cliche, but it was the strong sense of demonic power that flowed down this hallway that called to the natural law.
Light bloomed out from beneath a door and Death paused at it, materializing before it and grabbing onto the handle. He didn't have to turn the handle in order for a decay to settle into the rafters of the door and break it down into atoms. Yet, he stood there, merely holding the handle as it crumbled into dust, quickly followed by the door as it turned to ash next. Once the opening of the doorway was not blockaded any longer, the man heaved Marceline off his shoulder and threw her to the ground. The heavy thud of her stilled, soulless body resounded into the air, her form rolling across the ground until it came to a halt. Blonde hair rested in a flayed fashion around her shoulders and head, blackened lips partially opened, and lifeless blue eyes staring up at the ceiling with a dead stare. Laughter came from the darkened doorway, the cloaked figure of Death standing in its way as he gazed toward the other man in the room.
"I brought a present, Kite," Death's raspy, gruff voice entered the room in a dark manner, his form gliding in with it.
4,079/9,000
"Aren't you going to get that, Mistress?" one of her servants in the room called to her, "Master seems to want something and you know it's for none of us but you." Her gaze flicked toward the cat girl, a frown appearing on her lips as she heard her servant's words, afraid that they were true. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement toward them, then slowly stood to her feet and began walking to the throne room's door. The tinkling of the bell continued in a more persistent manner, urgent almost. . . perhaps even a tad bit pissed off at how long it was taking to be answered. It wouldn't make much of a difference but to make her father more mad than he already happened to be at the time. Procrastinating any longer on the ordeal would only make the situation worse, and so, she would exit the room with caution. Marceline did not like it when her father was angry and did not want to see him anymore angry than he already was.
The train of her gown swept over the black stone floor, dragging across the neatly cleaned ground as it traveled slowly through the hallway. Silence crept into the ears of its wearer, filling her with a sense of dread as she made her way down through the hallway to her destination. A soft howling could be heard through the silence, breaking it to mimic the moans of a tired man or a restless spirit roaming the castle. This sound did not deter or teeter the step of the woman, as if it was something she heard on a daily basis and was not afraid of it any longer. Black lips peeled up into a smile, revealing unnaturally white teeth of varying size and sharpness, canine tips poking harshly into her bottom lip. She smiled at the distraught moan of the lost spirit, like knowing the spirit was anxious and scared was entertaining to the woman. "Oh, my lovely, little ghoul, don't be afraid; before long, your spirit will be at rest and your job will be done," her silken voice spoke to the moaning.
Turning the corner, Marceline came across who the moaning belonged to, and the smile changed to a slight pout and sorrowful look. Her hand reached forward, the slender fingers curling under the translucent chin of the apparition, touching the ghoul as if it was a living being. "Why does my lovely servant wail? What ails you so that you cal out to me, your mistress, for the longing help that you need?" She clicked her tongue and pulled her appendages away, taking with her flecks of the apparition's energy, ever-so gently causing the spirit to succumb to permanent death. "Hush now, my dearest, your job is done; may you now rest in eternal sleep, undisturbed by the ways of the living, and may Death never call you for service." The blackened lips of the woman parted and a white light of wispy nature pulled in toward her mouth, being sucked in until none of the light was left. A darker grayed tongue in comparison to her paled gray skin licked over the black lipstick that coated her lips, as if satisfied by the taste of the soul. Clasping her hands together at her waist in a prayer-like form, Marceline continued on to her destination as if she had a purpose to be going where was was going.
Her pace quickened and before long, she had grabbed each side of her gown in a manner of a run, rushing down the hallway as if someone urged her to. Raven hair fluttered out behind her, the tail of her gown swirling and twirling, just barely skimming over the black stone floor. "Marceline, you're wearing my patience thin!" a booming voice echoed through the hallways, much louder than the wailing of the ghost had been. Fear glared through her eyes, widening the black abysses until the fiery orbs could fully be seen as bright lights in the never-ending darkness. "When I ask for you to come to my chambers, I expect for you to arrive in a timely manner and not keep me waiting on your dillydallying." She swallowed a lump in her throat, but she knew that not answering him would be cause for more punishment than was necessarily wanted. The haunting tune of a bell rung through the air again, causing Marceline to push herself so that she was breathing heavily in an attempt to get to him faster.
"Yes, Daddy! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, Daddy; please, will you forgive your dearest daughter for this one moment?" she called in return to him. Turning a corner, her paled hand snagged a doorknob and swung it open, sending her body through and slamming the door shut behind her. She slid down to her knees and pressed her chest to the floor in a bow at the side of her father's desk, expecting him to go belligerent on her. "Daddy, please, you must understand, it is my castle now, I have to take care of it first and foremost," she begged the forgiveness of Death. The cloaked figure had its back turned toward her, only its torso visible where the desk blocked out the rest of its body from view.
"What did I tell you before, Marceline?" he inquired in a condescending tone, so that she was able to figure out what she had done wrong.
"I'm sorry, Master, I did not mean for you to wait for so long of my arrival; I will make sure that it doesn't happen again," she responded to him.
"Stand up, you imbecile, I'm not here to speak to the floor; you know better than to lay on the floor anyway. Didn't your mother teach you any better?"
Marceline swallowed a lump down her throat for the second time that day and quickly pulled herself up to her feet, so that she stood nearly eye level to the grand figure of her father. "Mother wasn't there to teach me anything, remember? The birth of your daughter had caused her to get very ill and I was not allowed to see her." The back of a hand met her right cheek, sending a stinging pain coursing through her body and tears of black to well up in her shocked eyes.
"That's right. It was your fault that your mother died! You were the one who mercilessly slaughtered the one woman that I absolutely loved."
A stuttered sound escaped her quivering lips as she held a hand to the raw area of her earthen flesh, her eyes now downcast to the floor. "It wasn't my fault, Daddy! I didn't mean to kill her! I loved Mommy just as much as you! I miss her just as much as you. . ."
Another backhand to the face dropped Marceline to her knees, grasping the burning part of her cheek as she let out a wail of pain and guilt. "Shut up! Stop your screaming! It isn't going to bring her back to life! You killed her and now, you. . . you have to live with that guilt!" He brought a foot into her stomach, slamming hard into the core of her body, so that she was thrown back and winded from the force. Marceline tumbled backward into the wall, curled into herself to keep as much of the pain at bay as she was able to keep away. She let out a groan and reached an arm forward, grasping at the world around her to see if she could get ahold of something to lift herself up.
"Is that why you. . . c-called me down here? So you could beat the shit out of me over my dead mother and blame me for her death? You're so hung up on her, an event that has happened over twenty thousand years ago. . . Daddy, why are you still punishing me over this? Haven't I done enough to be forgiven?"
"Stop calling me that; stop assuming that I want to be a father to something as abhorrent as you are. . . you took everything from me. I wanted nothing more than happiness because I take and take and take; I finally get something I deserved for years and now, it was taken from me. Is that what I deserve or being myself, who I am? To have things taken from me because it's my job to take from people?" A fist rammed into her shoulder and pushed her into the desk; she merely gritted her teeth against the pain and waited for him to finish beating her up. He swung another fist at her face, the ring of his marriage cracking against her nose and breaking open a large gash across the bridge and splattering black blood. She raised a hand and lightly touched the appendage, wincing from the stinging pain of the gash and sharply pulling her hand away. Marceline kept her distance from him and stared quietly at the burly man, black blood running down her nose and across her cheeks to her chin.
"Master, please, you must understand that it wasn't my fault for the death of your loved one; her death was an accident, and can't you see her spirit?" She let out a scream as her hair was grabbed by a large chunk and she was forcibly pulled down to her knees in front of her father. He still held tightly onto her hair, staring down at her before spitting at her face, his saliva smacking against her left cheek. Marcy wrinkled her nose in disgust despite the pain, turning her gaze away from him so she didn't have to look at him. However, he yanked roughly on her hair until she was forced to look him in the eye, not an angry look on her face or a disgusted one, but love and sorrow. He caressed her cheek for a moment, lovingly looking her in the eye as he did so, smiling softly and looking slightly deranged.
"You look so much like your mother," he pointed out, her imagine wavering before his eyes at his touch into a pale blonde, "I hate it."
The man tossed her aside with such strength compared to her own that she slid across the flooring and into a heavy, book-filled bookcase. She coughed and pushed herself up to a slanted sitting position, her blonde hair shrouding her face from view, but black blood dripping to the floor. "Master, please," she managed out, never once looking at the man as she spoke to him, hoping that he would eventually stop the abuse. Yet, she did not move from her place next to the bookcase, but rather, she stayed where she was and warily lifted her head to look at him. By now, a decent amount of blood had spilled from her nose, a puddle on the floor had formed and streaks of it a mess all over her once-unscarred face. Her father only looked at her with a look of disgust, much like how she had formerly looked at him, but since changed her visage of him.
"I hate that you look so much like her; why did you have to take her life and then turn around and grow to look so much like her?"
Death crept toward her slowly, watching her with such sudden care that it brought hope into Marceline's eyes and she scooted a little closer to him. He knelt down and smiled at her, caressing her cheek and brushing her hair out of her face, "who did this to you, baby girl? Who hurt you like that?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest in a loving manner, despite all of what he had done to her.
"No one, Daddy, no one hurt me," she responded to him, her voice slightly muffled due to her face being pressed into his clothing. Slowly, he patted her hair, humming softly and murmuring inaudible words into her ear as if none of what happened before had occurred at all. Marceline curled up close to him enough that he managed to pick her up into his arms bridal style and simply held her there in his lap. "Daddy?" she inquired, lifting her face from his chest to look him in the eye, the look of a young, loving daughter there.
"Yes, baby girl?" he responded to her, his blackened gaze staring back down into her blue-hued eyes from her transformation.
"I love you," she stated, nuzzling her face back into his shoulders and smiling into the fabric of the tattered cloak.
"I love you, too," he murmured the answer, hugging her close, resting his chin on the top of her head for a brief moment.
She gazed up at him momentarily, then back to the floor she had collapsed on, looking t the drops of black that were easily found over the surface. Something felt different; she wasn't certain what felt different, but something to her definitely felt off that she just couldn't explain or give an answer to. Her father was acting strange, but she couldn't pinpoint what was different about him, just that he was more violent than usual, even delirious if she had to guess. Marceline felt him squeeze her shoulders and say something to her, but she didn't pay attention well enough to discern what the immaterial man had said to her. He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her face to look at him, instantly gaining her attention as if his words had suddenly become important to her. "Are you paying attention to what I'm saying, Marceline?" he asked in a hard tone of voice in order to keep her attention, as well as get her in trouble. Marcy gazed at him dully, despite moments ago having shared her love with him, finding herself unable to truthfully answer what he was asking of her.
"Don't bring him into the equation, please; he deserves a normal life compare to the one I have or the one I could ever give him," she stated. Death blinked at her words, confusion clearly showing in his eyes as he listened to what she had to say; the confusion quickly shadowed over by anger. She felt his hands remove themselves from her body, letting her weak and injured form fall to the ground with a heavy thump, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. The shadowed form of her father stood over her, the power and will he exerted a sensation that was strpnger than she was able to handle. A scream tore from her throat, a light pulled up and out of her body as one of the thousands of souls inside of her was removed, leaving her weakened. Another scream ripped from her throat, sending bone-chilling shivers down even the strongest of men's spine from the mere sound of it. Marceline rolled over to her side and curled into a ball, trying to protect herself from the pain she was feeling: an emotion she hadn't felt in millennia.
Bloody tears poured down her cheeks, creating streaks of black down her face and puddling together on the floor below where she laid. "Who is he?" her father demanded, glaring down at her from where he towered precariously over her form, the intimidation of his aura settling in. Her eyes opened to peer up at him, keeping her mouth shut in order to keep any important information from slipping out and being used against her. His hand reached out toward her in a claw-like form, pulling out a colorless form from within the woman's body, causing pain to course through her. "Tell me who he is or I will tear every soul out of your body until your nothing but a husk. Do you understand me?" the man demanded once more. A booted foot came down upon her side, cracking the bones that were beneath it and sending out cries of pain from her throat. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine; I have other ways of extracting the information from that pretty, little head of yours."
Marceline weakly pulled herself up to a seated position, only to be met by the powerful hand of her father tearing another soul out of her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her body falling backward against the floor with a heavy thud that would have easily killed a human. She blinked seconds later and gasped for air, crawling back to a seated position and glaring up at her father with both fear and immense anger. "I will never tell you who he is! You can rip every soul agonzingly out of my body and I will still never tell you who he is. . . Rot in the grave like mother!" Her words caused his anger to flare up, leaving her cowering to the floor and hoping that no pain would become of her in that time. No matter what she told him, she was always mildly terrified of what he would do to her, knowing that he was capable of completely ending her existence. "You don't scare me!" she cried out in the crippled position she was in, the very definition of being a bluffer about what she was saying.
His curled hand reached out to her, peeling out another soul as if it was just an item hidden in a box, and leaving Marceline breathless in the end. Her father's frustration at her words was enough to cause him to go belligerent, tearing out every soul from her body that he knew would be in her. Each soul removed caused her to grow weaker, but she would fight against him, still refusing to give him the information that he wanted. It was only when he was reaching the end of her souls that he paused and stared at the one that was grasped inside of his hand. He smirked at it, then looked down at the weakened form of his daughter, then swallowed the soul as if it was the most delicious thing in the world. Death licked his lips terrifyingly in front of Marceline, then crept slowly around her, as if he was sizing her up and contemplating on what to do. "I told you that I would get the needed information out of you, not matter how you forced me to do it," he retorted to her still form.
"Leave him alone, Daddy; I love him," she murmured from her place below him, her eyes trying to follow him through blurry vision. "He didn't do anything, there is no need for you to go after him. Please, just leave him alone and let him live the life he deserves."
The silence in the air told her otherwise, but she still hoped that he would listen to her words and leave Kite alone, kill her instead. "I can't have something corrupting the mind of my servant and to assure it doesn't continue, I must kill him or otherwise get rid of him," he stated. Glancing down at her, Death ripped out the last soul that was keeping her alive, leaving her body as an empty husk of what it used to be. He bent down and picked her up, slinging her clumsily and carelessly over his shoulder before exiting his room and setting out on his journey. Death wasn't searching to kill him; no, Death had something else in his mind for the man, something Death was certain he would not be able to turn down. If it was true just how important this boy was to his daughter, then it was likewise that she was just as important to him. Not claiming him for his own army of dead, but putting him under servitude by means of some uncanny reasoning was something he was known for.
No one inquired what was going on as the king passed them in the hallway; they merely watched as he walked with daughter in tow. Their eyes were widened, their mouths slightly agape, but none said a single word to the man in fear of what he would do. There was a reasoning behind his motives that no one knew, and none dared question what he was doing with his daughter slung over his shoulder. His gaze raked over each and every one of the servants that had gathered in the hallway after hearing the commotion in his chambers. However, it was just a passing glance meant to keep them in order as he made his way through the castle and into the lands of Sin. A hushed whisper rose over the servants once the king had exited the castle in its entirety, wondering what he was planning to do. Yet, with no knowledge behind the stillness of their mistress, the servants merely went back to work in hope of everything returning to normal.
Standing before the large gates of the building, Death stared up at the potent structure, looking it over to size it up. Seconds later, his body and the body of Marceline immaterialized, becoming flecks of invisible Nether in the air. These flecks squeezed in through the slit of the doors that were jammed together in order to keep them closed, then made their way inside. The build was as busy as ever, but as long as Death kept up the invisibility, neither would be spotted by the members of the guild. Happiness. It disgusted him, but he had no other reason to stop and ruin their day, especially since it would be out of his way. Ignoring their laughter and jolliness, Death shifted his direction and headed down a hallway that was dimly lit compared to the rest of the building. Cliche, but it was the strong sense of demonic power that flowed down this hallway that called to the natural law.
Light bloomed out from beneath a door and Death paused at it, materializing before it and grabbing onto the handle. He didn't have to turn the handle in order for a decay to settle into the rafters of the door and break it down into atoms. Yet, he stood there, merely holding the handle as it crumbled into dust, quickly followed by the door as it turned to ash next. Once the opening of the doorway was not blockaded any longer, the man heaved Marceline off his shoulder and threw her to the ground. The heavy thud of her stilled, soulless body resounded into the air, her form rolling across the ground until it came to a halt. Blonde hair rested in a flayed fashion around her shoulders and head, blackened lips partially opened, and lifeless blue eyes staring up at the ceiling with a dead stare. Laughter came from the darkened doorway, the cloaked figure of Death standing in its way as he gazed toward the other man in the room.
"I brought a present, Kite," Death's raspy, gruff voice entered the room in a dark manner, his form gliding in with it.
4,079/9,000
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0