Demoniac Incarnations (Babylonia's Birthing!)

[Sivoncé™]

^{"Then Siv ran at the fae, her powerful limbs bunching as she leaped once more. She landed right on top of Babylonia, and ripped the fae's entire stomach open with a single slash.
And so came the end of Babylonia."}

{they can say whateva, Imma do whateva}
[shadow=black,left,300]And they shall die at the feet of the ones they murdered.[/shadow]
"Misssssssss me?"
The idiot brutes gaped at her with stupid mouths and stupid eyes; they hunched their muscled shoulders in disbelief. Their breath tasted foul as they hunched forward to scurtinize her. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she leaned cascually forward, her face breaking away from the shadows. Predicatable, lowly beings, the Blood Mist denizens gaped at her in fear and drew immediately away.
One of the nameless whelps whimpered at her.
"B-Babylonia? Is that really---"
"Oh yes, it's lovely me. Don't you remember my beauty?"
"Why...of course! But--"
"But WHAT?" Her lips stretched opened to reveal pitch dark gums and rows of incisors that could've lined the mouth of a well-endowed shark. Her once-beautiful, pure face of white was now lashed with dark, snaking scars that left her grotesquely marred. Dark lines outside of her maw held hints of a faded glasglow. Nevertheless, her smile was cruel enough as it was. However, shards of the former ice queen existed where the woudns had not shattered her appearence; her eyes, pearls of the Mountains of Endless Winter, glittered with a vitality that had never graced her in her first life. As startling as the initial scars were, they were not all that terrible when one looked to the bulging gorge of her stomach, which periodically dripped blood from century-old wounds.
Suddenly, she lurched forward, shattering her cool demeanor of composure. Snarling colding to the spectators, she gestured sharply. "You are all weak, and you only seek refuge here out of cowardice! I'm already blessing you with my own presence; on your knees, whelps! You're not worthy of any products of mine!"
A convlusion later and she barked ferociously, "WHERE'S THE DAMN HEALER?"
"Ah. Mother...I've missed you."
With a hereditary coyness, Assyria's wintry smile was a minature of Babylonia's own.
Blood erupted from the weathered cuts of Babylonia's underbelly.
"WHERE FOR THE SAKE OF VERLUST IS THE DAMN HEALER?"
Assyria's composure faltered. "Er...about that..."
"WHAT?!!"Babylonia's hindlegs tumbled to the ground."WHAT IS IT?"
"We don't have a healer...."

{no pain is foreva, yes, ya know this}

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Ghouls

STEP RIGHT UP!
Behind this curtain lies a ghastly concoction of
Delight! Horror! Fantasy! And terror…
Your every wish is our command
Your every whimsical desire brought to life…
But I’m warning you: there’s always a price
~ Welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth![/center][/i][/color][/font][/b]

There is and idiom that somehow comes to mind. Some beings are beautiful. Others have a face that only a mother could love—and, indeed, Babylonia would be that mother. If she had tolerance for the ignorant and licentious onlookers, that is.
And, really, who could blame her?
Multiple males, including Lobo and Oso to name a few, simply gawked at the scene. A select few members took more action; aside from Assyria, Magnus stepped from the shadows. Although foreign to BloodMist and more accustomed to the rogue traditions of Mephisto and company, he dipped his head respectfully to the fae. As a Hellfirian, it was only bare minimum to acknowledge Verlust’s former Beta. The Queen Bee herself.
“…not yet, she means,” he added quickly. “We’ve been on the lookout for any potential wolves with healing ability, in case we needed one, as in right now… erm…” He nodded to the camp entrance. “…we sent out a raid, to find someone with some knowledge in herbs, a while ago—if you could possibly hold on a little longer…?”

Mange narrowed his eyes from the ranks.
He’s treading on boiling water now; never talk to pregnant psychopaths.

[Sivoncé™]

(lol -- never talk to pregnant psychopaths ;D )

{tougher than a lion}

The Queen Bee in question whipped her head around and bore the power of her fierce blue eyes down upon the speaker. As she found him, she narrowed her eyes to slits. With a snarl curling on her maw, she spat increduously at him. "And who the Hellfire do you think you are? Nevermind, I don't care! Who exactly is on this patrol and why aren't you going to speed them the hell up?" Her tail thumped in hyper rhythm against a nearby stone. Great puffs of air pressed from her maw as her breathing began to accelerate. Sweat formed on her forehead despite the briskness of winter. She looked at them all with crazed eyes as blood began to leak from the scars. She swiveled her head towards Oso. An eerie venom entered her tone. "You, lend me your tail, will you?" I NEED SOME FRICKEN ANESTHETIC!

Assyria took a hasty step backwards; her mother was suddenly a very active, very enraged volcano sending tremors in every direction. Assyria shifted her wide eyes over to Magnus. You'd better have something of substance to say, or she's gonna blow!

{ain't no use in tryin'}

[.Rabid Lycan.]

((‘tis a valuable lesson that all children should be taught))

A pair of shark eyes centered on his form, and Magnus hardly suppressed a flinch. It was not so much fear, but an instinctual, and somewhat courteous, reaction. Even if he had wanted to protest against his mistreatment, it wouldn’t matter. She was a legend. Simply Babylonia. An immortal—physically as well as emotionally. A goddess of the macabre in her own right. He couldn’t touch her.
Patient and cautious, Magnus retreated a step. “Magnus, ma’am. I believe Shiver and a few recruits… maybe a couple more?” He swallowed his edginess. “The newbies apparently know how to find forest healers… and, um, I was just on my way out.” Sidestepping into a hurried jog, Magnus headed for the surrounding thicket, eager to escape the interrogation. You better not take long, you idiots.

Oso’s ears fell back. “Mine…?” He blinked, a blank look washing over his features. Hesitantly, he crept forward, frowning as he did so. Why? Or, better yet, why me??

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, in a little nook elsewhere in the forest, the retrieval party hastened their pace. Ahead of the troop trotted a rather thin ivory fae. Her sapphire eyes glistened, focusing. Unaware of Babylonia’s arrival, but considering it as a possibility. And, even moreso, desperately trying to avoid the thought of Darkdeath.
A pang of heartache, and then a quickened pace as she hissed orders at her subordinates. “Keep it alive, maggots! We need to be ready for a very special guest, and there’s no time to waste!”

Frenzy grunted, exchanging glances with Temper. Between the two siblings, the ivory mass of their captive hung limp over their shoulders. Then, after a couple more steps, the male released a low sigh.
“…can’t we just take a quick rest? I mean, can’t we at least have a drink of water? I know you’re immortal and all and some demon lady is in a bad mood somewhere, but we’re not, and I doubt she’s there already. C’mon…”

Shiver slowed to a halt, hair bristling. She shifted her gaze to glare at the wolf, crinkling her jowls with venomous intent. “One more word and you’ll taste something worse than the flames, I assure you that.”

At the sound of threats, the unconscious being began to rouse, a drunken slew of words drizzling from her maw. “…mmm… mmhmm… vultures, spiders… argh, get awaaaayy…” Waving her paw weakly, the female began to shift, and the duo beneath stiffened in surprise. “…agh… my head… what…?”

“Now look—she’s waking up!” Shiver snapped, whirling around in an eddy of rage. “More reason to do what you’re told—get going!”
With a murmur of compliance, the three plus guest hurried onward, gaining ground with every bound.

[Sivoncé™]

The shark in question eyed Magnus as he spoke and watched him as he left, unsatisfied. A low, rumbling growl came from her throat. She snatched up Oso's tail without glancing at him, preparing to bite when the real storm hit her. Now, she glared off into the depths of the melting woodlands, the blood still leaking from her scars. Creases in her forehead showed the femme was bracing herself against a silent, burning agony.
"What has this place come to? You're a bunch of unorganized, depressed, weak, smelly, mongrels! It's like the Hellfire burned the Blood Mist right out of you! Where the hell is your fury?"

Assyria stepped backwards slightly. With Magnus gone, and Oso occuppied, her mother's attention was bound to slip towards her. At this moment in time, I don't think that would be such a great idea... She began to inch hastily away.

"YOU! Where do you think you're going?" Babylonia swiveled to face her daughter. Sharp, and bladelike as those eyes were, their centers softened and tinted with sorrow as she looked at her daughter. Softly, she murmured,"You're going to abandon me, too?"

In a rush of familial love, Assyria cracked a small smile. "No, mother, I won't abandon you." Not like my hideous brothers.

"Go find them, Euphrates and Sumer. Find them and bring them home." Babylonia's back arched with a sudden attack of agony. She chomped down mercilessly on Oso's tail.

"I'll do my best," Assyria vowed. She set off into the woods, but couldn't help glancing back over her shoulder with concern. She sent a dark glare towards Oso, then took off at a run into the forest. If it's the mangy traitors she wants, it's the mangy traitors she gets. Bet they're not expecting little miss me!

[.Rabid Lycan.]

A visible twinge of relief racked his body at the familiar odor flowing on the breeze. Thank Verlust, they’re back. Praying that they found a suitable healer, Magnus rushed forward, locking onto the distant scent of ash and embers. Fortunately, the search party wasn’t long, and he soon crashed headlong into their parade.
“Magnus?” Shiver asked, surprised. “Where did you come from?”
“Babylonia has already arrived. She seeks a healer immediately.”
“Shit, already?” Tossing her head over her shoulder, she snarled at the remaining wolves. “We’re late, you idiots. Speed up!”
With a new motivated vigor, the Hellfirians tore through the remaining thickets and partially decomposing clover patches, willing their matriarch to maintain an even temper in their absence. Or else Magnus thought she’ll have all our heads.
When they at last arrived, Shiver immediately entered with a low bow of respect to her leader. As the only wholly BloodMist wolf of the four, she was the first to speak. “Babylonia, it’s been too long. Let me, first and foremost, apologize for the wait.” As she spoke, Temper and Frenzy dragged their consciousness-regaining captive to Babylonia’s paws. “Help, it seems, just isn’t what it used to be.” Shiver eyed her helpers carefully, willing the novices to at least pretend to have manners. Meanwhile, Oso’s face contorted with pain, his great grizzly build shuddering under the power of Babylonia’s jaws. Shiver diverted her gaze, not wanting to acknowledge her lowly sibling.

The prisoner, however, was not so concerned with appearances. Beginning to return to whatever reality she had stumbled into, the fae lifted her head with a disoriented grunt. A great mass of blood and fur sat a few inches away, and she coughed dizzily at the sight.
“Umm… wha…?”

[Sivoncé™]

Crunch crunch crunch crunch...
The seconds ticked by and Babylonia felt her insides begin to collapse. Each, heaving breath she took was filled to the brim with ash and fire. Flames crackled evilly in her throat -- every vein in her body carried hot magma, livid and ready to explode.
Crunch crunch crunch crunch.
How long with this tail hold? Damn tyrants probably didn't even send out a search party, probably scrambling to find someone to pretend to play healer for them....
Suddenly, the clearing was alive with wolves once more. The one who called himself Magnus babbled again, and a flock of wolves appeared behind him. She studied them disdainfully, eyes flickering past each before resting on Shiver's familiar form. Whelps, the lot of them. 'Cept for Shiver. She seems to vageuly recall her place.
They flung a miserable heap of bloodied fur her way.
Babylonia bent to examine the mess of fur and crimson, all the while still munching on Oso's tail.
"You're most defeinitely right," she growled acidically, "It seems, these days, you have to help yourself. I asked you for a healer, what the hell is this?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Shiver growled, shoving Temper toward Babylonia with her forehead. Irritated by the action, but more so intimidated by the pregnant femme, Temper gulped and quickly let loose a wild string of words. “Thisisoneoftheforestgypsiesandshehashealingpowerswe’veseenthem.” He withdrew a deep breath. “Sopleasedon’tbemadshecanhealwolvestoo!”
Shiver inwardly groaned, a headache smarting behind her eyes. Just count backwards from ten…
Meanwhile, the wolf in question finally began realizing her surroundings. There were wolves in every direction, with salivating males and their lecherous expressions. There were fewer females, but they remained scattered among the ranks, just as sadistic and just as sheepishly obedient. Why are they all staring at me?
“I asked you for a healer, and what the hell is this?”
Sanceul lifted her chin, scoffing at the wounded fae before her. “I happen to be a wolf, thank you very much! Ya know, four legs? Fur? Two eyes?” She blinked. “…granted, one black eye, but a wolf nonetheless. Better question, who the hell are you? No offense, but I don’t exactly appreciate getting beaten over the head with… with…” She shook herself, glancing around until her gaze settled on Frenzy and Temper. “…what did you two freakshows do to me, anyway? Drop a boulder on my head!? Who’s the leader of this circus?”
Shiver edged to stand behind Frenzy, glaring venomously at her subordinate. If she's not a proper healer, you'll pay the price in flesh.

[Sivoncé™]

Babylonia snorted at Sanceul. "I'm a pregnant psychopath, don't mess with me betch!"

----------------------
She could tell, as they all backed away, that they were waiting for some storm to strike, so outrage to annhilate the weakling who dared speak to her in such manner. Instead, not a hint of emotion stirred Babylonia's eyes, except for maybe a small ounce of pity. She waited for the healer wolf to stop speaking before she made any motion of reply.
I need her to help me. Force didn't work last time. I'm going to have to appeal to her in some other way.
"Leave me, all of you," she growled suddenly, a fire burning in her eyes as she glared at the search party. "Unless Assyria returns from her errands, do not disturb me. Leave the healer here."
They would obey her -- she didn't bother to see if they hesitated or not. If they stay, I'll tear them apart where they stand.
Her attentions turned to the angry healer.
"The leader would be me," she barked sharply. "I'm about to give birth, and without you, my children may die. Unfortunately, my searchers thought it was necessary to use violent means to get you here. As angry as you may be..." Her voice dropped, eyes searing with a sudden emotion. Babylonia shifted to the side and revealed the grotesque scars that wreathed her bleeding stomach. "If you think I'm bad, what do you think of the wolves that did this?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

The spectators instantly dispersed at her command, the majority of which probably thankful for the dismissal. Oso seemed especially relieved, and stumbled off to join the others with a stump of a tail remaining.
Eventually, Sanceul faced Babylonia one-on-one, and she scanned the fae critically. Mentally, she was mapping out an escape route. The air reeked of Hellfirian, and she realized quickly that she was directly in the confines of their stronghold. She was mildly tense, her eyes wandering for sight of Morgan (she had no idea whether he was still a member or not), or worse, that Regulus character.
He might identify me, jeopardize Damien, or some crazy shit like that. I need to get my tail outta here.
But by the time their audience had disappeared, Babylonia had started speaking. Worse still, she shifted to reveal an ugly wound scoring across the soft of her belly. Sanceul frowned. Babylonia, obviously a Hellfirian, had proposed the situation: help me out or not. She couldn’t trust her words, and she hardly trusted the convincing mournful nature to her gaze. But the scar, the pups… she could scent the pups on her. They were due, and it was painful. And something instinctual seized her spine, forcing her eyes to stare unyieldingly at the source of her agony.
Maybe it was because Sanceul had suffered, too. She could no longer have pups of her own without the definite consequence of dying. And perhaps she wouldn’t have helped her before. But the pups…
They wouldn’t live. Maybe they’d be like Damien, dragged to hell and never born until Hell spat them up again. And even then, how would they be spat up? As grotesque day-old covered-in-blood children, their fur charred black and skin thick with soot? How long would they live, then?
Hesitantly, Sanceul sighed. “Perhaps… I could take a look.” She glanced around the clearing. “But I’ll need supplies… hey, anyone! Do we have any wet moss? Cobwebs? Any stored herbs at all?” Or will I be working from scratch? Damn it all, why am I doing this?[/i]

[Sivoncé™]

Good, she's mine.
There would be no more wasting time; the pain was a sharp, ripping tidal wave against her body. Strong as she presented herself, she was growing increasingly frail by the moment. I am their leader, she thought fiercely to herself. No one could challenge her if she stayed strong. It was her right, and her children's right to follow her. Verlust had chosen her. No rogue is ever going to take that away from me -- let them try!
And now this one is going to let this all be so. And after, I will spare her. But only her. Only her...for my children...
"Cobwebs...cobwebs is all we have...." she grunted. The pain would allow only grunting. Grunting or screaming. I will not scream. I never scream unless it is for the glory of my empire...
"There's no father left," she mumbled darkly.
Oh yes, that love is long extinguished.
Ashur, her idol, was cracked and no more. He'd deserted them long ago, and after, her love for him had deserted her heart and had been replaced with a cold, hard, feeling of empowerment. No meaningless male would ever capture the heart of the ice queen again. Ever.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

I’m going to regret this. I’m going to regret this.
The less-than-encouraging mantra ghosted through the depths of her subconscious, and yet her body acted on the situation with a will of its own. She barely cast a glance at the other wolves, worries of Morgan and Regulus appearing to escape her with this sudden distraction.
“…hmm, right… can one of you mutts bring me all the cobwebs you’ve gathered?” she snapped, voice amplifying and adopting a more professional demeanor. “We’ll need them all… hm.” She tilted her head, eyes settling on one of the thick tangles of dead foliage that littered the outskirts of the clearing. Approaching it with a jog, Sanceul peered at the chaos of thorns and branches, and quickly seized a sharp, thin branch. Proceeding to tear it from the thicket, the fae collected a few more before trotting quickly back to Babylonia. Once at her side, the rogue drew her muzzle close to the wound.
It was a grotesque, knotted thing. The healing folds of skin contorted and coiled, forming dark creases that zigzagged and spiraled in a mess of crimson glory. The surrounding skin revealed signs of wear and stretching, appropriate for such a prolific mother. Above all, however, the mark was deep. It was sickly, inhumane, and hard to stare at, and Sanceul briefly wondered what she had done to deserve such a blow.
Sanceul flickered her eyes to Babylonia as she tenderly set a paw along the crease of the wound.
“There isn’t time for finding anesthetic, I’m afraid. If you think you’re in pain now, you’re in for a darling surprise. I’ve seen this done, so you’ll need to trust me when I say I’m not trying to kill you. Just pray to whatever higher power you believe in and bite down on something hard.”
“…here.” Mange arrived, cautiously dropping a thick swirl of cobwebs at her paws before slipping away. Sanceul barely acknowledged the male, but quickly spread a few pieces along the ungodly affliction.
Sure, I’ve seen this done… on me. But I was drugged, and she’s pregnant for—ah, whatever. Should probably spare her the details less I lose an eye.
Then, without warning (Sanceul vaguely remembered hearing that it was less painful to hurt someone when they weren’t expecting it), she grasped one of the sticks firmly between her jaws and stabbed it along the outer edges of the wound. The sharp end pierced through the first fold, and soon she angled the twig with her fangs and impaled the opposite crease. While blood inked from the new holes, the gap that separated her skin—the ghastly chasm of blood from a certain battle long, long ago—was now connected by the splinter. Then, releasing the end of the stick, Sanceul grasped the now-touching edges of the wound and pinched them together with her fangs.
Well, it should hold off most of the bleeding as the pups are being born, hopefully. If she can handle a couple more of these stitches, that is.
Sanceul briefly released the skin to grab some cobwebs, tightly winding them about the tool to hold it in place.
“It’s your job to start pushing,” she murmured gently, bringing up the second branch fragment. Focus on the healer or childbirth; your poison, your choice. But she opted not to speak her thoughts aloud.

[Sivoncé™]

Do not scream. Do not scream. DO NOT SCREAM.
The battle was already lost before Sancuel had began her work. Inside, Babylonia was screaming. She'd been screaming for an enternity, it seemed. Screaming since the moment her children had gone, and Ashur's light had gone out. Nothing had been right inside of her since then. She'd never felt a stroke of fear until the moment she'd realized she no longer loved the wolf she'd sworn herself to, her beloved Verlust was no longer, and her children were scattered and despised her. That was when the screaming had started, and the mask had fastened a little tighter over her face.
She looked Sanceul hard in the eyes as she spoke. A crooked half smile appeared mysteriously on the femme's scarred features. A threat dance naturally off her tongue. "Well, if you do try to kill me...I'll be back shortly enough. And then you'll get to meet Death yourself---"
Babylonia's shriek cut through the forest like a knife blade.
Her breathing and heartbeat accelerated like lightning. Blinking fiercely, she struggled to maintain a hold on her blurring vision. Desperately, she looked towards Sanceul. A weakness she hadn't shown to anyone but Ashur overcame her. Pleadingly, she gazed at the healer.
Save them. Kill me if you have to, but save them...
Furrowing her brow, she squeezed her tearing eyes shut and pushed with all of her might.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul stared hard at the wound, directing every ounce of focus on suturing the gash. The fearsome howls of her patient tolled with sharp splinters of agony in her ears, and she briefly stole a glance at the mother’s eyes. She couldn’t help it; as she was driving in the second splint and squeezing the sides together, her gaze wandered. To escape the macabre, to satisfy her curiosity… she had no idea why. But there she witnessed something upmost strange, and, moreover, troubling.
Babylonia was gone. Something much more lupine than demon—purely animal, above all—was staring back at her. Pleading and raw sincerity reflected back at her, and Sanceul could no longer doubt that this fae could feel every twinge of physical and emotional stimulation that any other wolf could.
There was no such thing as evil.
I’ll try.
When she realized what was happening, Sanceul was nearly finished with her third stitch. She layered more cobwebs now, occasionally muttering encouragements and curses as she labored. Sanceul was no longer as preoccupied with saving the mother as maintaining her body long enough for the children to be born. And, oddly, she instinctively felt that Babylonia would be okay with this priority.
“A little more, come on,” she whispered softly. The first shape—for once, not entirely of blood—began to emerge.
There’s always Plan B.

[Sivoncé™]

MakeitstopdamnitithurtsithurtsitHURTS!
The screaming continued, but it was fragmented now. Ferociously, she fought to maintain her consciousness and power, though her strength was fleeing from her body a mile a minute. The pain had expanded exponentially, and she was surrounded and choking in a quicksand of agony. It pulled at her and threatened to suck her in, but her eyes were locked on Sanceul, and the slowly emerging figure of the first pup. Fight, she urged herself. Fight, damnit, that was what you were made for! You've come too far to give up now! FIGHT! She closed her eyes tight and pushed once more.
Behind her closed eyes, images of her first two birthings appeared in vague outlines. That was nothing. That was a fricken stroll through heaven compared to this! This is pure, unbridled, demented pain...
All for that bitch Siveria. My children may never get a breath because of her.
No...that won't happen. They're coming. They'll live...they'll grow strong and wreck their vengeance!
But Ashur...
"Someone will love me again," she growled softly to herself. "Someday. Somebody will love me again."
Miraculously, the fist pup came into the world.

((Yours can be first if you want? ))