03-14-2009, 08:24 PM
What was this place? Who was this woman?
The young half-Saiyan couldn’t take his eyes off of Rosemary. He stared forcibly at her, but for reasons very contrary to the motive he usually had to stare at those of the feminine species. Sure, this woman was beautiful: gorgeous red hair; a sleek, pale face; but there was something about her that Juno just couldn’t bear.
Nevertheless, he had no idea what this ‘something’ was. He examined her countenance, searching it for some sign. But the harlot’s façade was indiscernible. Juno scoffed under his breath, crossing his arms and taking a step back.
There had been an eerie silence for the past half-a-minute or so, but a twinge in the muscle of Rosemary’s jaw signaled that the crone had something more to say.
“Take your time,” Rosemary muttered in an almost inaudible, eerie whisper, moving in her seat, “Look at each other and ask yourself… is he or she worth it?”
Juno looked over at Sophia. This was an opportunity. Five thousand zeni. He almost fainted just thinking about the possibility. But then he met eyes with his ‘ally’. And everything got a lot more confusing.
What in God’s name was wrong with him? He’d killed people before. This was nothing new to him. Granted, he’d never killed anyone he thought of as a friend, but he knew that he and Sophia weren’t all that close—he didn’t really give a crap if she woke up in the morning and hated his guts.
So why on earth was he hesitating? He knew that she would answer friend. She was a priestess. She couldn’t take a life. It was practically a given that she’d answer friend. And all he had to do was utter one syllable and let her conscience do the rest of the work for him. Foe. Foe. Foe. Foe. Foe, foe, foe, foe! FOE!
But it didn’t come out. As much as he tried, he couldn’t utter that three letter word. He hated himself right now. He had a chance to win 500,000 dollars, and he was wasting his time deliberating?
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Juno thought to himself. He looked at her, and pictured her dead body in a pool of blood—but, contrary to what he had hoped would happen, that image only made it harder. He had killed before. He knew what he was doing. So then he just had one question for himself:
WHY WAS HE NOT SPITTING IT OUT?!
He saw her face. The face of that woman. His first kill. She stood in front of him as clear as day, taunting him that he couldn’t do to this stupid, idiotic little saint what he did to her. Take everything.
But she deserved it, the stupid whore—he convinced himself that she deserved it, that she was a whore, a slut, a harlot.
But Sophia was different. He was different. He couldn’t just kill her for some reason. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, shimmering in the candlelight. She was more beautiful than Alice. She deserved more than Alice deserved. Did she?
Then there was the money. Oh, yes, the money. He needed and wanted that cash. It was so tempting. But something stopped him. He didn’t know what. Foe, friend, foe, friend, the words were interchanging in his mind. It would be so easy to answer foe, kill the priestess, and take the cash, walk away from here. But he couldn’t.
Time seemed to pass by so quickly. The candles rotated around the room, and he knew that with every passing second their fate got more uncertain.
“Sophia,” he muttered inaudibly, looking once more to her beautiful face. He would even venture that perhaps, in this moment, she was more attractive in Sage. But it was probably just the fact that once he’d slaughtered this red-haired witch they’d be alone in a room together.
Emotions poured out of him like a fountain. He felt his expression changing from grief to anger to satisfaction to sadness, and it was impossible to keep it all inside. He hit the podium roughly, knocking it out of place. It fell with a crash to the floor. And he sat down, hands running uncertainly through his hair.
“Aww, what’s wrong, Juno?” Rosemary piped up, chuckling. The halfling glared at her with the utmost anger, but the smirk was never wiped from her face. It was impossible to win with this woman!
Tears slipped from his eyes and painted his cheeks with the feelings he’d been trying so desperately to hide. The stone that he’d crafted his visage out of was being melted by the tears. He was growing soft, and he felt total disgust at himself. He looked at Sophia, his face stricken with anger. He knew that she couldn’t understand. She wasn’t at fault here. It was him.
BUT HE WASN’T A BAD PERSON! How could anyone understand his dilemma? He could speak one syllable, and she would die, and he would leave a happy man. But suddenly a conscience was creeping up on him! No sarcasm was involved here: he was in a true ethical dilemma.
He looked towards Rosemary’s throne, but the lady herself was gone. The fortuneteller swirled around, and suddenly found his cheeks in her fingers’ grasp. “Come on, Juno, you can do it!” she chided. He broke away, running towards the center of the room. “Just say it. Three letters. One breath. Go on, kill her. I promise she’ll go easy.”
He tripped, and fell back into Rosemary’s arms. She caught him from behind—her speed, he discovered, was magnificent—and wrapped a scarf around his neck, pulling hard. “What’s your answer, Juno?” she asked as the choking monkey-man slid to his knees.
The seer wasn’t put down that easily, though. He reached up, smacking her across the face, knocking her away from him and to the other side of the room. He clutched his neck, panting, gasping for breath. He walked to her, and stood triumphantly over the harlot. Rosemary’s eyes were as red as her hair, stricken with fury.
But Juno had an answer all picked out for her. “Friend.”
The young half-Saiyan couldn’t take his eyes off of Rosemary. He stared forcibly at her, but for reasons very contrary to the motive he usually had to stare at those of the feminine species. Sure, this woman was beautiful: gorgeous red hair; a sleek, pale face; but there was something about her that Juno just couldn’t bear.
Nevertheless, he had no idea what this ‘something’ was. He examined her countenance, searching it for some sign. But the harlot’s façade was indiscernible. Juno scoffed under his breath, crossing his arms and taking a step back.
There had been an eerie silence for the past half-a-minute or so, but a twinge in the muscle of Rosemary’s jaw signaled that the crone had something more to say.
“Take your time,” Rosemary muttered in an almost inaudible, eerie whisper, moving in her seat, “Look at each other and ask yourself… is he or she worth it?”
Juno looked over at Sophia. This was an opportunity. Five thousand zeni. He almost fainted just thinking about the possibility. But then he met eyes with his ‘ally’. And everything got a lot more confusing.
What in God’s name was wrong with him? He’d killed people before. This was nothing new to him. Granted, he’d never killed anyone he thought of as a friend, but he knew that he and Sophia weren’t all that close—he didn’t really give a crap if she woke up in the morning and hated his guts.
So why on earth was he hesitating? He knew that she would answer friend. She was a priestess. She couldn’t take a life. It was practically a given that she’d answer friend. And all he had to do was utter one syllable and let her conscience do the rest of the work for him. Foe. Foe. Foe. Foe. Foe, foe, foe, foe! FOE!
But it didn’t come out. As much as he tried, he couldn’t utter that three letter word. He hated himself right now. He had a chance to win 500,000 dollars, and he was wasting his time deliberating?
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Juno thought to himself. He looked at her, and pictured her dead body in a pool of blood—but, contrary to what he had hoped would happen, that image only made it harder. He had killed before. He knew what he was doing. So then he just had one question for himself:
WHY WAS HE NOT SPITTING IT OUT?!
He saw her face. The face of that woman. His first kill. She stood in front of him as clear as day, taunting him that he couldn’t do to this stupid, idiotic little saint what he did to her. Take everything.
But she deserved it, the stupid whore—he convinced himself that she deserved it, that she was a whore, a slut, a harlot.
But Sophia was different. He was different. He couldn’t just kill her for some reason. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, shimmering in the candlelight. She was more beautiful than Alice. She deserved more than Alice deserved. Did she?
Then there was the money. Oh, yes, the money. He needed and wanted that cash. It was so tempting. But something stopped him. He didn’t know what. Foe, friend, foe, friend, the words were interchanging in his mind. It would be so easy to answer foe, kill the priestess, and take the cash, walk away from here. But he couldn’t.
Time seemed to pass by so quickly. The candles rotated around the room, and he knew that with every passing second their fate got more uncertain.
“Sophia,” he muttered inaudibly, looking once more to her beautiful face. He would even venture that perhaps, in this moment, she was more attractive in Sage. But it was probably just the fact that once he’d slaughtered this red-haired witch they’d be alone in a room together.
Emotions poured out of him like a fountain. He felt his expression changing from grief to anger to satisfaction to sadness, and it was impossible to keep it all inside. He hit the podium roughly, knocking it out of place. It fell with a crash to the floor. And he sat down, hands running uncertainly through his hair.
“Aww, what’s wrong, Juno?” Rosemary piped up, chuckling. The halfling glared at her with the utmost anger, but the smirk was never wiped from her face. It was impossible to win with this woman!
Tears slipped from his eyes and painted his cheeks with the feelings he’d been trying so desperately to hide. The stone that he’d crafted his visage out of was being melted by the tears. He was growing soft, and he felt total disgust at himself. He looked at Sophia, his face stricken with anger. He knew that she couldn’t understand. She wasn’t at fault here. It was him.
BUT HE WASN’T A BAD PERSON! How could anyone understand his dilemma? He could speak one syllable, and she would die, and he would leave a happy man. But suddenly a conscience was creeping up on him! No sarcasm was involved here: he was in a true ethical dilemma.
He looked towards Rosemary’s throne, but the lady herself was gone. The fortuneteller swirled around, and suddenly found his cheeks in her fingers’ grasp. “Come on, Juno, you can do it!” she chided. He broke away, running towards the center of the room. “Just say it. Three letters. One breath. Go on, kill her. I promise she’ll go easy.”
He tripped, and fell back into Rosemary’s arms. She caught him from behind—her speed, he discovered, was magnificent—and wrapped a scarf around his neck, pulling hard. “What’s your answer, Juno?” she asked as the choking monkey-man slid to his knees.
The seer wasn’t put down that easily, though. He reached up, smacking her across the face, knocking her away from him and to the other side of the room. He clutched his neck, panting, gasping for breath. He walked to her, and stood triumphantly over the harlot. Rosemary’s eyes were as red as her hair, stricken with fury.
But Juno had an answer all picked out for her. “Friend.”