Prodigy

[Emmelin]

Here he is! Her heart was aflutter! How much did she want to see this man? So very much; her aspiration shining as her heart was wild in her chest. Excitement pulsed through her veins.This man! She knew where he was now. She'd heard so much about him, it was hard to believe he was here; behind this door. How she just wanted to break down the door. Instead, her hand would reach up and knock earnestly. Eagerness poured from her body as she would simply await for an enter of some sort. She had never thought that she'd be invited to go to a place where her idol was here. The man she adored and obsessed over. However she had to control herself. After all, if she started acting like a crazed fangirl that would ruin her image. Fixing her hair a bit and the small scarf she wore over the red dress of hers.

As she waited a moment, her body shifting and uncomfortable. Anxious and over excited as she would move to shift her weight constantly. Her eyes closed while she tried to breathe in an even way. It felt as if little sparks were running through her body and she would try to calm the stimulation. How odd. How had she been here anyways? She had been spoken to on it and told where he worked. In a wonder she would be amazed at the fact she was invited to go see him. Here it was! The day she could mean the man she adored and so she stood and waited.

[Guest]

Eager, rapid knocks at the door; the assassin, seated, froze, his very action in mid-air sustained and held in place as narrow cerulean eyes fastened, unwavering, upon the source of the noise. Who was it this time? It was always good to be alert. Dismissal is the end of every great leader and icon. Ignorance is the downfall of the human race - and it was indeed inevitable.

But that was irrelevant. Who was at the door? Daigoro? The good General? His old boss, Murazar? Hm. He cycled through possibilities, eliminating them one by one. None had any real reason to knock, although human beings were defined as unpredictable. The knock itself had been far too eager, fast, and enthusiastic, said a moment of analysis, to be the latter two. And even then, Dai and he had already met, and it was unusual - though not unheard of - for the Lieutenant Colonel to be so... excitable. Strange. Perhaps it was someone new, then.

He set the ornately-carved Xingese ox-bone white bishop piece gently down upon the board he had been preparing. It was the last, as fate would decide it, and the board now set, ready and set up, every piece aligned almost perfectly and obsessively, with someone just at his door at this very moment. Ayden chuckled dryly and quietly, and took the cloth he'd been using to clean them, and set it aside. "Come in~!

He chanted in that sing-song voice of his. Just who was the person behind the door? Just what did they want with or from him? If he didn't know them, why did they travel so far up to this level, and perchance even from beyond Briggs' range itself, just to find him? Questions that could swim through the man's head did, and he concluded and eliminated as analytically and as coldly as he was renowned for. The ultimate calculator. Had there been probabilities involved in any way, or odds, they would've already been crunched and deduced. 'Control everything you can, and maybe you just might win in this game.' Heart's age-old adage.

Ayden felt a pang of guilt slam against him like a wall as he remembered his mentor, and the little colour left in that pale face of his flushed in and out for a moment as he desperately tried to shuffle the rage and guilt to the back of his mind. Couldn't let it seep through, could he now?

Questions, indeed, were swimming through his head, but one above all else as he adjusted his jacket, stood to his feet, and ran a hand through his hair, preparing himself. Had to keep up appearances if it was, by chance, one of the generals, eh? Synapses fired as he continued to calculate in a world and frame of 'ifs' and 'buts'. "The door's open..." He added, his voice crisp and seductive, sweet and succulent as he'd tweaked and trained it to be over many a year. Charisma was the ultimate tool of the assassin. One question above all else.

Just would they be interested in a game of chess?

[Emmelin]

Valeria would remain eager behind the door. Her ears were pounding from the blood flow that pumped through her. The excitement was something hard to fight. In a way, she felt like a lovesick puppy. In her heart though, she knew nothing of love. There was no lie to herself; this was obsession. She wouldn't deny it at all. Ayden Derocha.. a man with so many stories. how she just ached to meet him. Even though she knew he wouldn't know a thing of her or her past, the thought of meeting someone so amazing was simply a privilege she would never back down from. Were her knees knocking? How young she felt! It was just like the days she had wished she had in high school!

The voice soon reached her ears and Valeria nearly jumped out of her skin. Was it what she expected? Of course not! She hadn't a clue what the man's voice would be and barely knew what his body looked like. In fact she knew barely anything on this man other than the research she did and the rumors passed around. It seemed she had crossed the line of stalker when she thought about it. Valeria preferred that term to rabid fangirl. As he addressed her to come in, she would hesitate. Hand out, she would touch the knob and swallow nervously before half bursting through the door. Immediately she would move her arm to her stomach and her upper half bent over. A quick but precise bow made before him. "Hello, Sir Derocha. I apologize for just appearing here without much warning." She would say in a shy voice before smiling in an almost menacing way. "A pleasure to meet you, you could call me a fan. A young man outside directed me up here." Of course she would give no reason as to why she was sent up or why she was there. There was no real reason other than her longing to meet him. "I have heard some curious rumors on you and wished to see if they were truth or lies."

[Guest]

The visitor opened the door. A she, it seemed. Most courteous... humble, and excited. Ayden tilted his head slightly as a dog would in apprehension, curious, and left a sullen silence upon the room, waiting for her to just... say something. "Hello, Sir Derocha. I apologize for just appearing here without much warning." A chuckle escaped his lips. Either that was anxiety upon her pallor, or adoration. The man visibly licked his lips, drawing that long, slender pink tongue of his against those two, thin, pale lines, and snapping it back it, lips whetted and salivated.

"Oh, just Ayden will do," He spoke courteously, and gestured for her to sit down opposite him. He had planned on getting up and rising to do something else... but things had just gotten a lot more interesting. A faux smile slipped onto his face, a grin of warmth disguising an inner wicked smile of manipulation. "Who exactly might you be?"

"A pleasure to meet you, you could call me a fan. A young man outside directed me up here." Ayden arched an eyebrow. A fan, eh? A fan!? Well that was just... excellent! Absolutely brilliant! "I have heard some curious rumors on you and wished to see if they were truth or lies."

Immediately, more exuberant than he'd been in many a week, Ayden sprung from his chair like a jackrabbit. "Oh, believe me, my dear," His speech had accelerated to a ridiculous rate, twirling, spinning, words launching themselves from his tongue so fast they could have been bullets. "If these rumours in any way relate to the spattering of blood, the shearing of flesh," He spun about her, raising a flat hand to slam the door shut with a single strike, and walking up behind her, setting his arms on his shoulders, giddy with a bloodlust upon his breath.

"The... the slicing of sinews," It was naught more than a whisper, his head but inches from hers, creeping up from below, his figure crouched for but a split-second as he perched his chin on her shoulders; and as quickly as he had stopped, he was off again, spiralling about the other side of the table and finally slumping back into his chair. "Or... the art of death... then..."

He shot a clear, simple, sharp, and clean look up to her, cerulean orbs locking with hers, a brilliant golden. "You've probably got the right man," He said matter-of-factly, following up with a dry chuckle which, after an instant, burst into maniacal cackling. "Byahahahahahahahaha!"

Oh, he'd been in need of a protégé for just so long! Most would shun him for his experiments, investigation, and line of work; but he was just... curious! He sought knowledge, and with it, power! But she... she... she adored him! 'Sir Derocha'? A fanciful title indeed! This was a new bar in the symphony of the silver-haired assassin, a new chapter in the literary epic that was his life. He'd needed a protégé for so long, a legacy, someone to hold his knowledge as a capsule, someone to teach, to impart his tricks and little techniques to...

A... a true prodigy.

Ayden arched an eyebrow, scanning her up and down once more. Supple body, physically fit; a little short, but that would allow her to counteract his looming and imposing tall, thin, gaunt figure. "Mmm..." He nodded, slowly. Oh, so very slowly; the way a king of many years, with wrinkled face and a beard of grey, would when making the toughest decision of his long, eventful career. He nodded the way a true company CEO would as he finally signed the papers to sell off the entire enterprise and cut his losses. Wise, insightful... this expression had many a word to label it, but none and yet all seemed to fit at the same time.

She seemed fitting enough in experience, but what of persona? Perhaps she'd simply been sent up as an envoy, perhaps not as a fan at all; or maybe a fan of something else, his apparent alchemy speciality! About Briggs, he was renowned for his alchemical and alkahestric know-how; this all remained to be seen, but if she was a true believer, with the stomach to swallow everything that Ayden threw at her, then...

"But first, I think..." He gestured a wayward hand to the ornate board in front of him, pieces still standing stalwart, unfazed and unfettered by the commotion the silver-haired hitman had caused by his swirling and twirling. "A game of chess is in order, don't you?" He flashed her a murderous glare. One that said 'don't fuck this up now'. She was... very attractive, definitely one to keep an eye on... Jeu-Hee truly occupied his heart and body, though he would perhaps have to test this girl on more than just the one front... manipulation was that which he truly enjoyed, after all, and could he manipulate her in just that way...

Crazy in every and any definition of the word, questions fired back and forth through his head without any end to the crazed horde of them, until, finally, they stopped. All focus was turned to Valeria as Ayden tried his absolute best to pierce her humble gaze with his own, sharp as a knight's blade. It was her move.

((Remind me to include Ayden's new favourite quote in my next post.))

[Emmelin]

Valeria fell almost entranced. Her mind hung upon every one of his words. The way he seemed so much more.. advanced than her. So far ahead of her. Someone that truly was to be looked up to. The color of his hair, the way his body told stories. Valeria could only feel a hiccup in her chest that was caused by a skipped heartbeat. The excitement would vibrate in her very veins like a drug. It wasn't something that she minded of course, but it was something different.

He would introduce himself though introductions weren't needed. She knew who he was even if she was a nameless being whom appeared from seemingly nowhere. Such a gracious man to greet her anyways despite the fact she had simply stopped by without warning. For all he knew she could be some sort of assassin. It would be easy now, wouldn't it? No, not true. This man was well trained and fast. Valeria had grown accustomed to knowing such things or maybe she was just assuming so or even WANTING that to be the truth. After all, this man was her idol. In her mind there was no one more.. perfect...

Just the way he licked his lips gave her chills. Eery chills that cascaded down her spine like a rapid waterfall. To most that sickening feeling in the pit of their stomach would have them run, but for Valeria it only furthered her interest. This man was sick and twisted from what she heard. Valeria found herself almost hypnotized by the ideas of the rumors. Almost like a daydreaming look upon her face. She had nothing less than the utmost adoration for the man. A never-ending well within her of that wanting just to be noticed. How she despised the side of her that was completely obsessing like some fangirl. However in this case it was very accurate description of her.

His body nearly flew out of his seat as he slid behind her and seemed to try and creep her out. His voice eery with the years of blood upon it and the control of his actions left him in complete control of her. She felt as if she might even melt. His voice heated her skin enough or maybe that was just her own mind going crazy. Her colored irises would be concealed as she closed her eyes. Soon she would shiver if only out of delight. Why did that appeal to her? The world deserved to suffer. The way of it's life was something to be punished.

He shut the door and seemed with such ease as taking a breath. Valeria could not be more amazed by his skills. Her eyes staring at him while he returned to his seat. The bright orbs on her with a smile at the mentioning of the art of death. Indeed how beautiful it could be made. She liked that factor. In some ways it seemed they already saw the world in a similar light. In some cases though there would be no light, only shadows. Valeria was a beast running from her previous life. The one she had before in Esparia was far different than the one she carried now. His cackling was honey upon her ears. A sweet ecstasy. Was it sick to feel such a rush from his entertainment? Perhaps. Was it going to change? Of course not.

His body allowed a nod as he seemed to be pleased about something. Valeria couldn't exactly decipher his actions. She didn't know him well enough and it seemed his level was a bit out of her reach for her to know just about what he was pondering. At the same time she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was just being a bit less than her normal self. She had no act to play yet, this man was not one she would go to kill. Oh how she practically worshiped him though. One of the few that Valeria would go out of the way to please.

It seemed there was a moment of silence before he spoke once more. Valeria listening intently upon his every word while he motioned to the board. "Aaa yes.. Chess." She would laugh softly while looking at the board and resting her chin in the palm of her right hand. A grin upon her face one that was devious but to the untrained eye seeming to be innocent. "How about you go first, Sir Derocha?"

A kick of her leg and her legs would be crossed with her elbow digging into her lap. It wasn't something she minded, but it did make her look inquisitive. Her left hand stretched to move and motion to the board in turn. She was not the type to move first. In her years she had found the quickest downfall of an enemy was for them to make the first move. She was no sort of fool in that manner. "I would not impose upon you." Her words after would hesitant as she closed her eyes a moment. She was feeling pleasant and if anything more, it would be a playfulness. "As well, you may call me, Valeria."

[Guest]

"How about you go first, Sir Derocha?" A cold glance. He'd asked her to call him by a friendlier term, and yet she'd ignored a gesture of respect. A protégé, perhaps, but an ignorant one... quickly, Ayden reshaped the glance into a smile as she continued, nodding slowly as she sidled into her chair. He was, of course, on the side of the white pieces - rules dictated that he began.

Ignorance, however, could be... manipulated. He let a serpent-like tongue run slowly across two pursed lips, and slip back into the deep, wet cavern of the man's jaws and mouth as quickly as it had darted out. "Like I said, you can call me Ayden." No sing-song voice. No chanting. Oh, the tune was still sweet enough, sweet as all the honey in the world - but there was poison there. And it was audible. This wasn't a recommendation, or even a suggestion. This was a veiled command. If she was too stupid to understand it, she didn't belong in the room.

Settling his hand an inch from a pawn identical to the other seven laid across the board, he hovered for a moment, regarding the board. Which starting move would he play? Statistically, the opener in a game of chess won a seventy-five percent of all games, on average - but if she could prove him wrong, then, well... perhaps that'd be different. He was on the ball, of course - tactics were a finesse he hadn't passed by in the school of the assassins - but just didn't want to underestimate an enemy. The Cerisian Defense? The Drachman Rush? The Cretan Sweep? So many manoeuvres, such little time... a giddy chuckle escaped his lips, but barely, tickling the globules of saliva settled upon the thin pink lines.

A hand settled upon the bust and likeness of an ancient Xingese cavalryman, bearing a pike in one hand, and even an expression frozen in a cry of war upon his face. The horse beneath him rearing and readying to charge, its mouth eternally open in an alert whinny, ready to release itself and its master upon the enemy horde. With a flick of his wrist, Ayden jumped the piece one over the pawn in front with the knight's deadly agility, and then a single square to the left, settling it down with a light click, the ox-bone tapping rather soothingly against the finely-crafted wooden board.

His eyes glinted with a madness that none could hope to match. He looked up to her and let a tongue whet his lips once more, making no attempt to hide it. Showtime. His pale cheeks glistened with the harsh Briggs sunlight, a few rays of which carved through the ever-strong frost-laden glass of his barred window; the orange illumination from a desk-lamp nearby danced across cerulean irises. He let his voice escape upon the room in but a whisper. "Your move," He spoke.

Hm. Maybe he'd extend an offer... after all, he was feeling generous. She was learned enough, and her motives admirable - and she certainly knew how to please a man of his particular stance. This would be a test of her tactics - even if she was ignorant, she probably meant well - and then later would come a test of her reflexes and skill in battle. But... if she could win this, then he'd offer her something she probably wouldn't ever have dreamed of on a visit to her idol, if she could drill obedience through that hardy skull of hers. Condition herself, behave based on his reactions and his alone - show intuition. His tutelage, if she could trump him in this game of mind and calculation. Assurance that she wouldn't be a waste of his precious effort.

Time would tell, it would seem. It was only the opening of the game, of course - they had many a move ahead of them til one reached checkmate. He'd wait to hear of her endeavours and her sick fandom before, finally, he extended his offer. His tutelage for her victory. A fair trade, no?

Time to finish his sentence, either way, drawn out as long as possible, the gaping black abyss of his mouth hanging open as a wet grin carved its way across his face with a deadly shlk, beads of saliva hanging behind moist teeth. A fine pearly guardian for the things better left behind.

"...Valeria."

[Emmelin]

There that tongue went again. Over his lips, it slid with a sweet temptation pasted to it, or at least that's how it was in Valeria's eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she eyed the beautiful, silver haired man. She was simply giddy to be in the same room as him. Playing a game of chess was even further exciting. She had never expected this. A game with her idol; a man she was obsessive over. Would she win? She wasn't sure and she figured the odds were she wouldn't, but that didn't stop her from trying. A pleased look on her face as always while she pulled at the sleeves of her jacket. Was she nervous?

His eyes seemed to dare her to call him anything different and it sent chills down her spine. That cold look should give a trill of fear, but it didn't. Actually it did, but it was smothered by a following thrill. Oh how she loved this moment. The way the adrenaline pumped through her veins was something that one could find nothing more addicting. Pleasure seeping from her rounded and rather innocent face. Wasn't she a beast? Wasn't she some kind of demon? Her face though was that of any other young woman; sweet and still malleable. Her eyes showing a moment of interest as she blinked away any confusion and closed her lids. "I see, Ayden it is." She spoke softly, allowing her words to stop as he went to make his move.

Valeria knew her manners, she wasn't one to interrupt. Instead of trying to distract him as he made his move, she would simply sit back and cross her arms. A feminine posture that would show off the bare lengths from the middle of her thighs too below her knees where the start of her white boots began. As well, her sleeved arms would be covered by the crimson texture of her jacket. Those arms pressed to the large of her white bow and a rather content look on her face made it seem as if she was in the green. Was it what she really thought? Not really. Valeria just always had a sort of pleased look in her eyes.

Life was her game and everyone in this game was like the chess pieces. She was a Queen in her own mind. A piece with many moves and a lot of choices on how to squirm free. Most pawns seemed to fall to the queen, but what did that make the man before her? A suspicious look in her eyes would tell nothing. She was simply observing and analyzing as he made his move. A chess game told more about a person than people knew.

A swift movement of his hand, left his first move to be the knight. A move made by usually more experienced chess-players or so she had seen. His tongue ran across his lips again as he spoke to her. "Your turn, Valeria." A pause between the word turn and her name. Simply the sound of his voice calling her name, it was a wonderful feeling that made her nearly moan. Such a tempting darkness. She had never felt so absorbed by a man's presence and the fact it was her idol was only making it harder.

Controlling herself was a bit harder than usual. The avidity was a wild raging monster in her body, however since it was him, she controlled herself. Of course out of natural instinct, she would still flirt if only with body language. It was a simpler way of getting it out of her system. Going head first into such a situation would leave her mostly in shambles. At least that's what her mind screamed at her. Logically it would not be a good idea and in fact, it would ruin her image. Batting her eyelashes in a daring manner and with a coy smile on her lips, she seemed to leak her inner conflict. A swift speaking would drag away any look upon her body language, at least so she hoped.

"Why, thank you, Ayden." Flowing with ease, the sentence was followed by one jaunty wink as before she focused back upon the chessboard. What move to make? The trouble of working with another person. She felt the unspoken challenge for her to beat him. It wasn't time yet to surpass him, after all she wasn't even the pupil yet. Her fingers, beneath the white gloves would pick her piece and move it. A pawn to the far left moved up two spaces as she looked at him. She wasn't going to show her real moves yet. It wasn't her style to not play around.

Once her fingers left the piece, she would place it back to where it was. Her posture made her look restrained and closed off. Truthfully she was. If she didn't keep herself tensed up, she would most certainly do something foolish and that couldn't happen. She wasn't about to ruin this chance. That would be the worst decision she could ever make. "Your turn." Her words short and to the point, but a rather perky attitude about her. No matter what happened, this moment was one to be remembered.

[Guest]

"Your turn." Ugh. It was only the second time that phrase had been said, and already it was irritating Ayden beyond all measure. Repetition, repetition, repetition; sure, it impressed a phrase or image upon your audience, but, ugh, it was so bland! So boring. It was time to... spice things up a little. Between them, at least. With chess, Ayden was a snake in the grass; almost speaking worlds of his modus operandi in the field. He prepared the entire scenario, then lashed out with true ruthlessness, leaving his adversary with no chance of survival whatsoever. Utter dominance.

A sly reaction in the form of the man cocking his head and looking towards her, scanning her quickly up and down. She was excited; the tension in the room was almost... palpable. The sweat on her brow... he could smell it. No... taste it. She adored him. That much was simple and clear. And that much could be... manipulated. Twisted, to the assassin's will.

She quivered with his every word, shook with his every movement. A simple touch would be a blessing to her, a form of passion her body wouldn't be able to hold. Oh, this was excellent... he'd been looking for a protégé, someone to teach, for a long time. And the world couldn't have planted a better apprentice right in his lap; willing, attractive, and perfectly able. By no means was she ignorant or stupid; disobedience showed in itself initiative. Ayden felt like a mentor; a great figure passing down his symphonic and rhapsodic techniques from murderer to murderer, assassin to assassin.

With a flick of his wrist, a slender finger jabbed against the 'play' button of a stereo. Quiet music slowly crept out from within the dust-laden speakers' heart; he'd rigged them up from Dai's workshop. The opening of Beethoven's first - Ayden's favourite - symphony slowly faded into the background as the man laid slender fingers upon a pawn, and slid it forwards two squares, head-aligned against Valeria's single pawn that had broken rank itself. A mirror image, save for the knight in the background.

"Are you a fan of Beethoven, Valeria?" A simple question. The man tapped his leg gently in time to the music; every stretched or drawn-out chord, his leg would thrum and vibrate, before tapping once more against the ground. The stronger and more dynamic the bar, the more the impacts would be felt by the room's guest and patron. It was simple enough. He was mirroring something he knew well. And, now, she would come to do exactly the same, in time - if she didn't screw this up, at least. "I positively adore his symphonies. I appreciate all endeavours into the arts, be they musical, literary, theatrical..."

And here came the clincher. He ran that tongue across his lips once more, moments before that moist lining faded back into pale skin. A routine; a ritual. The man's readying for statements like this. He pushed his head towards her, metallic objects and hilts straining and pressing against his figure as he stretched and arched his form. "Or... my own little speciality..." Almost a whisper, a muttering upon the cold air of the fort. It was time to turn the heat up, see how she handled under duress like this. "...death." Almost a faint hiss, like the opening of a carbonated drink, and for a split-second, all was silent, and then the room exploded with noise once more.

Giddy laughter blasting from the man's every form as he kicked back into his chair, shaking his head and clutching his gut in mockery as he cackled maniacally. Oh, how he loved to laugh! Humour was as much an art as anything else. He shook his head as the laughter calmed and wiped an invisible tear from his eye, and then re-adjusted into the room's sombre, quiet mood, the crescendo of the tune fading back into normalcy and routine in the background.

"A sudden plunge in the sullen swell," Ayden muttered, staring around the room as he drummed his fingers eagerly upon the table. He was excited now! Life was for the taking - for him, it always was, and especially the taking of others! He lived to laugh, to spread his art in glorious crimson swathes, and to tell stories about it to all who cocked their heads or let their jaws fall agape in horror. Recite every last grotesque detail, tell tales of every little spurt of blood, every sliver of flesh carved from the man's latest mark and quarry... oh, how he loved it so. Life was for the taking.

"Ten fathoms deep..." His brow furrowed as the pieces vibrated, the drumming increasing in intensity, but, finally, as it reached its near-breaking point, everything levelled out to a crazed, flat, calm. Chaos incarnate. Everything jolted from one extreme to the other, then brought back to be as close to 'on the level' as it could.

"On the road to hell." A dark, murderous glint danced across cerulean irises, and the man let a deep chuckle escape. Ayden Derocha was a man of many faces, and a man of many laughs. Cackles, chuckles, giggles... so many had spurted forth from his mouth, broken the threshold of his lips, almost too many times. Oh, how he loved to laugh... he laughed when he was angry, he laughed when he was happy, he laughed when he was sad... "'Your turn'." He spoke in poisonous mockery of the phrase, returning in a circular manner to his initial train of thought, the drumming now spasmodic and coincidental, the assassin humming along to Beethoven's music.

Oh, how repetition bored him.

[Emmelin]

Silence. Such an achingly long pause between words made Valeria for once feel uncertain. Had she messed up? Why did she feel so frantic? So many times she led men into a game of black widow. A love then kill you game that never kept her heart anywhere near open. She was someone hard to read. Closed off from the world, she was not someone who would easily tell her plans. Her eyes always seemed to undress or trap her victims. A web of complicated emotions and yet it was all fake. She was such a fake person to those who thought they knew her.

How quickly her walls had fallen to this man. She was baring her heart on her shoulder. how easily he could take a stab and eat it. Trap! Her mind screamed. Such temptation, such longing was almost nauseating. Her head almost felt dizzy and yet she didn't show it. Even in the heat of battle, Valeria always had her cool, thanks to her pride. What a delicious moment though. He was playing games right back. What did he really think? Valeria couldn't help but notice him check her out.

Mind games. Was he like her? The brown of her eyes would be focused upon him intently as if suspicious. That lazed smirk on her face had no intent on fading away. It was all her toying with her own body. Is he looking me over? Is he checking out my weaknesses? Perhaps it was a bit of both? Valeria had questions swirling through her head with less answers than she had fingers. Per each answer was ten standing questions that snaked around her head. Her training was all for none when it came to reading this man.

An ease of his actions began the music. The song playing in the air one of a classical form. It would dance upon her ears and almost ease her a bit. there soared more questions. He was trying to lure her to do something, it showed in his body language. How she wanted to, but she had to control her. A bit of a twitch in her right eye would show annoyance. Why did she fight herself for him? Usually when she wanted something she would take it, but her pride would not let her take a losing battle. The look in his eyes dared her. What were they doing?

It was no longer a game of chess. In fact it was something more difficult. Val was in a game of proving herself. One fluke could send her home and a success could offer her... what? She wasn't sure, she found this man far out of league but it didn't stop her slipping up once in a while. How she craved him, to simply see what he felt like. What did he taste like? Oh! there went her train of thought. damn, she lost track of the game and swiftly she pulled her eyes back to the game. She knew this was a true test.. or at least that's what she assumed.

His words were of a simple question. She indeed did like Beethoven and her head would make a slow nod as her fingers would float over the board. The rest of his statement gave her chills and a pleasant sigh fell from her lips. Her left hand still held her cheek in the palm. Her eyes half open as if she were bored, as the smile faded. Her look would morph into one of thought. What would make a wise move? Tapping her foot subconsciously, she wouldn't even notice the movement she made.

There went that lick of the lips again. Valeria had o contain herself and close her eyes. Concentration.. she needed it. It would be foolish to lose everything now! She'd worked so hard and waited so long. Anything more might kill her. Her heart would hiccup as those passionate brown eyes showed the inner turmoil as she eyed his motions. A twitch of the corner of her lips would end in a smirk.

He seemed so excited a he spoke and laughed. Oh he was enjoying himself. That much was rather obvious. His laughter would be bone-chilling to most, but to Val it only excited her further. Her nerves stood on end from the simple thrill of it. Yes, she liked how much he was enjoying himself, but something was off... something made her speak her mind.

Placing her move upon the board, her brow would arch and a rather interested cock of her head in turn left her eying him with her seductress orbs. Indeed she looked almost as if she were undressing him with her eyes. The narrow curves the slight of a curve on her lips. To him it must have been obvious, but for now she was staring at his face. "Something tells me, this is more than just some chess game, Ayden." Her voice would coo in its silken trill. How intriguing. What did he really think of her and what did he want?

If he wanted a reaction, it seemed he was failing. her body language still showed she was attracted, but restrained. Valeria knew how to control herself. At least she usually did. Even in that time, she was having a hard time keeping her hands to herself. Her fingers locked and her lips pressed to her thumbs. The locked hands hiding her chin and elbows digging into the wood of the desk. "Well? I await your next action."

[Guest]

"Well? I await your next action." The game continued as one of cat and mouse for a while. The odd piece taken here and there, but Ayden ensured that through his effective bending to her play style, neither gained the upper hand too far. It was another of Heart's many creeds; learn to control and manipulate the battlefield, and then you'll become the master of your opponent.

It wasn't who you fought, or what you fought with: it was the ground you fought upon.

Mid-way into the game, Ayden set a knight down as an extra layer of protection in front of his queen, who'd wreaked bloody havoc across the board for the last few moves, hopefully causing Valeria undue frustration as the man cackled maniacally and licked his lips. He'd seen the way she looked at him, caught the way her breath was heavy with lust, located that little suggestive undertone in every passing comment, and smelt the perspiration on her skin. For once, she was nervous - but nervous for all the right reasons. To put it simply, she didn't just desire to be his apprentice.

"I think you and I both know this is about much more than just a game of chess, aye?" It was a slow, light dry chuckle to mirror how the sentence had come to form before Ayden's mouth. He rose a leather-clad hand to his head and brushed it through silvery locks of hair, cerulean eyes fastened exactly on her own, golden and full, like a gilded apple-shaped bauble.

But baubles were fragile. So far, she'd held her own in the field of 'battle' as it would be. But the game now drew dreary for the silver-haired assassin; excitement was exploding as his fingertips as he yearned to lash out at something, anything. Adrenaline was cracking at the thought of dismembering anyone with one of the Fangs; god, even a stylistic gunshot execution would be enough ground covered towards sating the madman's murderous hunger... his stomach too grumbled, speaking worlds to mirror his mind: he had something of a more... physical hunger to attend to, too.

But the business and line of occupation he was in required control, even over an oft-useful addiction like his own. He simply wished to see blood painting the walls of this humble room; maybe a visit from that black-clad berserker that he'd been seeing so often in those wildly vivid dreams of his, the man who bore accents both Xingese and Drachman upon his voice. But, despite it all, despite this nagging, despicable ravenous pit in both his mind and stomach, despite the heaving yet sharp pains of withdrawal, Ayden licked his lips and smiled uncannily at her; he knew it wasn't over yet.

He would devoid her of satisfaction. Let his guard down and let her come into the sanctum of his oxbone idol, his courageous and inspirational leader. His king. And when it seemed as if all was lost, one step ahead, he would hang the monarch from the window. The figurehead would fall - and then, their tenure of slyly confusing the other and attempting to stay one step ahead of their would-be adversary... then, it would all be over. Finally.

Ayden licked his lips and cocked his head, smiling once more.

((Game has progressed: closing up on the endgame, take the queen and make moves towards the king, or something - at least, that's how I planned it. If Val sweeps the board aside and tries to ride Ayden, then so be it >_>))

[Emmelin]

As the game continued there seemed to be no obvious winner. A suspicion in Valeria's eyes as she rarely played chess. Yes, she knew the rules, but she rarely had someone worth her times to play a leisurely game. Even if leisure wasn't the word she wanted to use. This game wasn't relaxing at all. Hal of the pieces struck down by mainly a queen and even a knight of her own had been sacrificed. The big players seemed to remain on the board with a few pawns dabbling the checkered board.

Meanwhile the player was in a game of of war with herself. Mind, body all fighting against what was 'moral'. Perhaps she should just give up and advance? That would be a risky move. From what she could see, he was blank. Unreadable to her. Oh, how that pissed her off. The tables turned when she was the victim. Yet if this was her punishment she was enjoying it. Indeed a sick woman mentally who enjoyed pain. That was a side he wouldn't see for a bit. The memory of pain would arise from her mind and a dull ache would hit through her side. It seemed her wound wasn't fully healed yet. No matter, she was still just as strong with it. Her wandering mind would catch itself and return home for the next movements.

So many movements that could be made. Only one would be the right one. As he made a movement he would place the king in harm's way. There was a pause as Valeria rested her fingers, pinching the queen of her own before she withdrew it and placed it upon a bishop. A swift lick of her wrist would knock the queen aside and placed the bishop right behind the knight. A couple diagonals from the king.

Was the game over? No. Valeria was a smart woman and she knew better. This time, however, she would be a bit more playful. Her eyes upon his while he licked his lips and cocked his head. Oh how she could barely stand that. His tongue wetting his lips. She cursed him out mentally, but outwardly showed nothing but a pleasant and mischievous grin. A trap indeed. It seemed move after move was made and fewer pieces were upon the board. The game had become a struggle of watching something; whither and die. A final movement, she would have a row in line. Her queen and rook having the leader corner.

Scooting out the chair, she would stretch her legs. Valeria wasn't used to sitting for long periods of time and the sensation of them falling asleep was not comfortable. In order to cure this, she would take a few steps, not going very far. A thought crossing her mind. A whim that she decided simply to go out on. Whether it be a wise decision or not, it was happening.

Stepping around the board, it seemed as if she was going to jump him. Valeria had a separate agenda. Almost as if trying to get back at him, even if futile. It was a fun action, though slightly suggestive. Her legs had moved behind him with swift action as she leaned down to his ear. Her hair would fall slightly on his but that was the nature of gravity. The elegant and dainty fingers of hers were raise from her sides. Letting her hands linger but two inches away from either side of his neck implied some sort of danger. Why? It gave a sensation of touch without touching. Soft and faint, the sensation itself was more frustrating than the satisfaction or displeasure in the simple touch. Like the Pit and the Pendulum. Which way he would see it, she was unsure, but she was having.

A sort of sly smile on her lips she let her breath fall upon his skin. Only a singular word falling from her lips. "Checkmate." A soft voice; one smothered with a type of intent. Borderline subliminal, it left her lips as a whisper. Feeling slightly amused, she swiftly moved her hands to latch onto the back of his chair. A game won, but what would be her prize? Oddly enough Valeria was more curious than anything. The more she learned on this man was the more he frustrated her. His ways above her own.. for now at least.

(ended the game >_>; Sorry let me know if you want me to draw it out longer haha)

[Guest]

"Checkmate." She knew it as well as he did - the game was rigged from the start. He let her breath, thick and wet with layer upon layer of moisture, tell him so much as it brushed gently across the pale skin of his neck. He smiled uncannily to himself as she walked past, that little extra touch of pride surrounding her as she moved to the window, more haughty than she'd been since her walk in. Victory did wonders to the human psyche, and, more importantly, the ego.

But, now, now... he couldn't let her know that she'd won, could he? After all, she hadn't really worked for this victory. And it was all built upon a fake basis for one reason, and one reason alone; to bring her crashing back down to rock bottom at the end of it. A touch, a smell, a taste of success - and then that same silver-haired figure was there once more, no matter how many times you riddled his corpse with bullets, no matter how many times you ran him through with a blade, no matter how many times you snapped that pitiful spine of his, ready to scrabble at your heels and send you tumbling over the edge, time and time and time again. It was inevitable as the sun was to rise when dealing with Ayden.

Other kids had been told not to play with their food. He'd been instructed to make a grand and elaborate network of trickery and false loyalty every time a mealtime came about.

His hand went to his waist, and as silently as ever, the leather-clad hand withdrew a pistol. Black in sheen; suppressor threaded and screwed perfectly onto the barrel. The pale northern sunlight danced and glinted across the edge of the cylinder, flashing wildly as Ayden gently tilted one of his preferred tools in his hand, back and forth, testing the weight - as he did, time and time again.

He eased the hammer back until it clicked; and before she could move, he kicked the chair aside in a blur, and spun himself into position. With a single, fluid arch, his body spun, twisted, contorted, pistol raised like an extension to his own arm. Before she even knew what was happening, he was live, a bomb, exploding in all his veritable calm mania, stretching forth into every direction like a murderous contortionist.

It was one movement, one arc, that finally brought an end to all that contained chaos, that stochastic inner core of Ayden's, as the beast within desperately lashed out at its constraints, trying hopelessly to scratch and gnaw away at the sinews which bound and held it down. The one movement that ended with Ayden's raising the pistol and holding the edge of the suppressor, that dark, perfect, mechanised and cylindrical mouth, indefinitely agape, holding that thin and seemingly endless black void within, but an inch away from the back of her head.

"At this range, I could paint the window with such a beautiful pattern of your brains," He smiled uncannily and cocked his head. The last sparks of excitement had crackled and exploded away, as all the tension had been eliminated in a single instant. "Never turn your back on a man who you've just pushed into a corner, a man who could be feeling vulnerable, insecure, inadequate... and above all else, pissed off,"

Silence hung about the room for what seemed to be centuries. And, then, finally, he spoke once more. "You can win a battle, but the war will still go on," Nothing more than a murmur. A calm whisper upon the room's gentle, cold, swaying breeze; the window wasn't open, but a fan hummed quietly in the background of the General's office.

And almost as quickly as he'd primed the pistol, he eased the hammer back into place, and brought it back down, sheathing the Interceptor in its holster once more, the pistol still veritably and inevitably ravenous, insatiable, waiting for its latest meal, tribute, and kill all rolled into one. It was a tool, but to Ayden, also something to be respected, and almost worshipped, in the most twisted of ways. Without it, he would be ineffective, below one hundred percent efficiency. The pistol was a part of him, as the barrel was a part of the gun.

Stepping backwards, cackling and shaking his head, the assassin leant down, ever so gently, grasping the chair firmly, pulling it back up and finally tucking it in, the cackling subsiding. His eyes never left Valeria - not even for a split-second. That split-second could be the difference between his dying or his being able to continue a bloody swath of murder across the world. And, time and time again, previously, it had.

"Reset the chess-board," He said, stepping backwards ever further, aligning perfectly with his own creed. He headed for the door, turning the handle impeccably and near-silently, his own elegance and grace proceeding him, inching it open and letting the cacophony of Briggs' every-day hustle and bustle leak in. "Leave your contact details. I'll be in touch..."

And just a moment before he slipped away, a moment before he left once more to blend in with the crowds, the swathes of people streaming through Briggs' labyrinthine corridors, he smiled, cocked his head, and let three words escape upon what would soon be the room's silence, save for the fan humming gently in the background. "...my new prodigy."

[Emmelin]

No sooner had Valeria goofed off, that Ayden had moved. Though she hadn't really seen or expected a movement so swift, the chair went flying and a gun was to the back of her head. The metal wasn't close to actually touch, but the cold of it was almost pouring through the air and covering the back of her scalp. How funny, she was just thinking how not touching could be as annoying as actual touch. This circumstances was one of those. With her whole mind boggled by the situation. Was he going to shoot? That would be an interesting end.

It was an automatic response when her eyes opened and her lips parted to have a small squeak of protest fell from her soft and smooth curves of lips. Involuntarily, her throat had allowed fear to escape. Fear.. that was something she wasn't used to feeling and as the adrenaline pumped through her veins it tasted bitter sweet. A sight into a foreign world that she'd never ventured into before. A part of her unexplored and almost tantalizing. To feed on that was a sweet temptation to her. Surround herself with the flavor of her weakness.

He spoke to her in an almost mocking tone, something that demanded and laughed at her. Ouch.. a shot to her pride and yet she knew she hadn't fully one. It had all been a fun game for her. The whole of her body was tense as she turned her head while he shifted the gun to its holster. Did she have a response? No. there were no words to foreshadow what she was thinking. not even the faintest of thoughts scattered her brain into something worth while. The windows to her soul left not the slightest glimmer of a hint while she would simply smile again.

As he picked up the chair, she could feel his eyes on her. Oh how she wondered what his blood would color in such a beautiful way. A man with such skill probably didn't bleed that much. Deep down though she wanted more to feel what his actions would do should he make her bleed. Such fantasies, but they were struck down with ease as she moved her attention elsewhere upon the chessboard.

While he slipped away, she would move her hand to her opposite shoulder and her body would bend forward slightly. Head lifting up, she would eye him with a tempted smile. Wild was the essence of her eyes. "As you wish, Master." She had heard of course him call her prodigy. That sent chills down her spine and though she usually despised the word, her response was full-hearted. She liked the feel of it, though it wouldn't be said much and she had a feeling he would not like it to be said much.

Her body twisted and she began replacing the pieces. Was this the best day of her life? Quite possibly. He was her idol and now.. her teacher. Of course she couldn't be happier. Each piece in the right place, she would move to the desk. Her hands grabbing at a paper and pencil. Scribbles soon covered the paper in the form of words. Her contact information wasn't much more than where she was staying and her name. the fancy penmanship ending in an almost beauty to it. Once done, she put the pen back and walked out, the placing looking as it had before.

(Exit)

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