Curtain Call (Mouse Party)
Aug 16, 2023 11:33:46 GMT -5
bloodiedfox, Visit Neom, and 1 more like this
Post by ulvendagoth on Aug 16, 2023 11:33:46 GMT -5
The camera flicks on, not showing Poena's church for once. It shows a red curtain splattered with turquoise stretching the length of a stage. The scene slowly pans down the stage, pausing for just a moment to show the TapOut Openweight Championship belt on a small altar with subtle splashes of a decedent purplish pink around it, before moving on to focus on Poena. His back is to the camera as he gazes up at the curtain.
Nataaaasssshaaaa…
Poena slowly and bonelessly turns his head to the camera, the rest of his body following just a moment too slowly to be natural.
You know, people have laughed that the place we finally meet is at Disney. But it's fitting on a level they don't fathom.
He grins slowly, swaying as if in the grip of some soft mania, his eyes wide—too wide.
He has told me. I know about their Room Zeros and the missing children. I know about their hidden bars where only the rich can go. Think about it, where do you think the children end up?
He slowly shakes his head, still swaying in whatever ethereal wind has him in its grasp.
They hide it all behind fake smiles and costumes. If anything, Natasha, we are the truth. We reach in and ask, Do you want to see their head come off?
Poena stops swaying suddenly; his body staying bent to the left as his multicolored eye swirls slowly. He reaches down and scoops something off the floor, holding up one of the Mickey Mouse gas masks he had mentioned just a moment before. He turns it over in his hands and then tosses it.
Out of everyone, you understand. You understand My God and His Truth. That is why I accepted Marty's offer. I must fight you. I must bless you with His pain. We must test our faiths against one another.
Poena laughs, the sound somehow both hollow and manic as his face stretches into a smile once more.
They think this is a passing of the torch, but we know differently, don't we? We know that in circles like our own, torches are not passed. No… Blood is spilled in ritual and sacrifice. That is how power and strength are truly passed on!
Poena leans back to stand straight, his body taut like a bowstring as he then leans closer to the camera.
Though, if you prefer, I can always eat your heart after the worship. That’s where your power is stored, is it not?
Poena’s multicolored eye flares, and his body judders in place, seemingly in multiple places at once, for just a moment before he becomes still. His posture changes—less tense, more focused.
What are you, though? You claim to be a Goddess, even building a cult around yourself, but are you so sure? You are not one of my kin. I know each of them, and tracing your influences is so very simple.
Poena flows back around to look at the curtain, though His eyes stay on the purple around the belt. His face creases into a frown before he goes back to looking over the rest of the curtain.
The Maiden, The Mother, and The Crone... Hecate- A goddess of the outcasts and of thresholds. Are you claiming to be her? Or is that how your mind decided to show itself to you?
He looks back at the camera, chuckling softly as he turns back around. His movement was graceful like a snake, and his face was held in a soft smirk.
To be a Goddess out of touch with her own mind. How very Norse of you—or perhaps Greek? Though, of course, The Lamentation of Arthur Uí Laoghaire is of Irish origin. Do you even know what or who you are? Are you the Goddess or She Who Calls?
He pops his neck as he looks over the empty room in front of him—one of the Room Zeros he had mentioned earlier, deep in an abandoned park.
You terrified those in the Rumble, but in the end you failed. I do enjoy the fact that you mentioned Random and her seeming victory over my vessel. I have plans for her that he has set into motion. That is the thing no one seems to understand. I weave layers, meaning, and so much more into every bit of my vessel’s message. Do any of you bother to look? Or are you just blind?
Poena’s red eye glows brighter as he says the last words, his voice shifting to a growl.
I am not a god of deceit. I have told you all you need to know if you just had the mind to look! Natasha, surely you’ve seen it! Out of all of them—all these mortal fools and broken souls—you have to have seen my true message! But you, demanding or begging others to hail you over and over, saying that there will be no pity for the majority, then roundly failing... You must know your time is past!
A slow, sadistic grin slides over Poena’s face as he tilts his head to the right, a growling laugh curling up from his maw.
Where is your Legion, Natasha? How often can you be spiked on your head with a half-and-half suplex onto a chair and get back up to scream? How did it feel to slam Kuroi into the floor and then sic your followers on him? To end Legion over such a minor matter? Oh, I know it all. You call yourself a “Goddess of Death” and even use a Hand of Fate to defeat foes, but how you have fallen!
Poena whips back around and throws his arms out, palms to the heavens. The curtain parts to show a massive Mickey Mouse head made completely out of dead crows. In the midst of the massacre, an altar made of broken glass looms as Poena laughs, his mania echoing around the horrid scene.
And that is where you will land! Broken like all your faithful!
Nataaaasssshaaaa…
Poena slowly and bonelessly turns his head to the camera, the rest of his body following just a moment too slowly to be natural.
You know, people have laughed that the place we finally meet is at Disney. But it's fitting on a level they don't fathom.
He grins slowly, swaying as if in the grip of some soft mania, his eyes wide—too wide.
He has told me. I know about their Room Zeros and the missing children. I know about their hidden bars where only the rich can go. Think about it, where do you think the children end up?
He slowly shakes his head, still swaying in whatever ethereal wind has him in its grasp.
They hide it all behind fake smiles and costumes. If anything, Natasha, we are the truth. We reach in and ask, Do you want to see their head come off?
Poena stops swaying suddenly; his body staying bent to the left as his multicolored eye swirls slowly. He reaches down and scoops something off the floor, holding up one of the Mickey Mouse gas masks he had mentioned just a moment before. He turns it over in his hands and then tosses it.
Out of everyone, you understand. You understand My God and His Truth. That is why I accepted Marty's offer. I must fight you. I must bless you with His pain. We must test our faiths against one another.
Poena laughs, the sound somehow both hollow and manic as his face stretches into a smile once more.
They think this is a passing of the torch, but we know differently, don't we? We know that in circles like our own, torches are not passed. No… Blood is spilled in ritual and sacrifice. That is how power and strength are truly passed on!
Poena leans back to stand straight, his body taut like a bowstring as he then leans closer to the camera.
Though, if you prefer, I can always eat your heart after the worship. That’s where your power is stored, is it not?
Poena’s multicolored eye flares, and his body judders in place, seemingly in multiple places at once, for just a moment before he becomes still. His posture changes—less tense, more focused.
What are you, though? You claim to be a Goddess, even building a cult around yourself, but are you so sure? You are not one of my kin. I know each of them, and tracing your influences is so very simple.
Poena flows back around to look at the curtain, though His eyes stay on the purple around the belt. His face creases into a frown before he goes back to looking over the rest of the curtain.
The Maiden, The Mother, and The Crone... Hecate- A goddess of the outcasts and of thresholds. Are you claiming to be her? Or is that how your mind decided to show itself to you?
He looks back at the camera, chuckling softly as he turns back around. His movement was graceful like a snake, and his face was held in a soft smirk.
To be a Goddess out of touch with her own mind. How very Norse of you—or perhaps Greek? Though, of course, The Lamentation of Arthur Uí Laoghaire is of Irish origin. Do you even know what or who you are? Are you the Goddess or She Who Calls?
He pops his neck as he looks over the empty room in front of him—one of the Room Zeros he had mentioned earlier, deep in an abandoned park.
You terrified those in the Rumble, but in the end you failed. I do enjoy the fact that you mentioned Random and her seeming victory over my vessel. I have plans for her that he has set into motion. That is the thing no one seems to understand. I weave layers, meaning, and so much more into every bit of my vessel’s message. Do any of you bother to look? Or are you just blind?
Poena’s red eye glows brighter as he says the last words, his voice shifting to a growl.
I am not a god of deceit. I have told you all you need to know if you just had the mind to look! Natasha, surely you’ve seen it! Out of all of them—all these mortal fools and broken souls—you have to have seen my true message! But you, demanding or begging others to hail you over and over, saying that there will be no pity for the majority, then roundly failing... You must know your time is past!
A slow, sadistic grin slides over Poena’s face as he tilts his head to the right, a growling laugh curling up from his maw.
Where is your Legion, Natasha? How often can you be spiked on your head with a half-and-half suplex onto a chair and get back up to scream? How did it feel to slam Kuroi into the floor and then sic your followers on him? To end Legion over such a minor matter? Oh, I know it all. You call yourself a “Goddess of Death” and even use a Hand of Fate to defeat foes, but how you have fallen!
Poena whips back around and throws his arms out, palms to the heavens. The curtain parts to show a massive Mickey Mouse head made completely out of dead crows. In the midst of the massacre, an altar made of broken glass looms as Poena laughs, his mania echoing around the horrid scene.
And that is where you will land! Broken like all your faithful!
