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Old September 5th, 2012 (6:45 PM). Edited September 5th, 2012 by Claire*.
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Claire* Claire* is offline
Here's to the crazy ones.
    Join Date: Jul 2012
    Location: USA
    Age: 26
    Gender: Female
    Nature: Sassy
    Posts: 554
    Genevieve L’esprit

    A devilish grin crossed Genevieve's complexion as Sovereign launched his first salvo at the Gallade, the one called “TrueStriker.” She scoffed at the recollection of his title, how trite and adorable. Such titles were mere vanity. Of course, she was perfectly aware of what others called her, “The Siren.” It caused her to laugh every time she heard it. It wasn’t exactly inaccurate, in fact, it was accurate to perfection. No, it was adorable how she had adopted a persona almost larger than life, an unspeakable curse of drunken soldiers regaling others of their encounters. It served its purpose of course, not only did people fear her for what they knew she could do, but also for what they feared she could do.

    Sovereign served his purpose most excellently. She made a note, that if he survived, she would have to find some way of rewarding him. One could only be dragged along for so long with no payoff. It was time for her to take her leave however, other business needed her attention. She curtsied exaggeratedly at the Gallade. “Until we meet again,” she called out to him.

    She turned from the soon to be bloodbath, the loser would be either dead, captured, or the first to run from their honor. She didn’t think Sovereign liked prisoners however. Then again, it never bothered Genevieve to run from a fight, she also had no respect for honor, so it was a trivial point. Maybe one of them saw the importance of retreat also. Vanishing quickly into a side alley, the city loomed before her. Most of the civilians had run to the safety of neighboring villages or towns, but not all. Many feared losing their homes, the boards on the windows a sure sign of those who decided to “ride it out.”

    She stopped in the middle of the street, her extrasensory perception extended itself into the area, searching for what she wanted, what she needed. There it was. Striding up to a house boarded to the gills so to speak, a shopkeeper's residence by the look of it. Panels barricaded the door from the inside, she used her mental powers to pull the nails from their resting place one by one. The last one out of place, she opened the door gingerly. The gloomy and dreadful illumination cast an eerie view of the interior. A Pikachu huddling in the corner, a Pichu grasped in his hands, clutching it to his chest. A father protecting his child from the dangers of the outside world. If only he realized how useless this was.

    “Come with me, I insist,” Genevieve spoke to him softly, levitating him and his baby into the air and outside to the waiting street. The father and child let out a scream of terror, an unearthly noise that pierced the eardrums. Paying it no mind, she made her way to the convergence of battle, trudging her way up to the city wall and overlooked the mayhem and massacre that lay waiting. A great Aerodactyl swooped down to her side, eliciting another terrified shriek from the father son pair. Leaning over to stroke its jaws, she whispered it commands, completely inaudible to her hostage company. “If you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, you know what to do.” The Aerodactyl acknowledged with a shake of its head, nothing more, and bounded off into the sky once again.

    Returning her attention back to the pair, she ripped the Pichu from his father’s desperate grip. The Pikachu grasped at nothing but air, tears swelling in his eyes from fear and his powerlessness. She continued to hold him in place, her grip shifting to hold him by the throat. The wall offered her a great vantage point, the battle was visible in almost its entirety. It was visible at that point to see the trouble Ignitus had gotten herself into, “Idiot.” As much as Geneveive would have loved to project herself to the entire battlefield, she knew her limits. Apart from a supremely powerful being, it was practically impossible for anyone to do, especially if they still wanted to live afterwards. She decided to focus on the battle surrounding Ignitus and her idiotic predicament. At least those would hear her message and hopefully it would spread like wildfire.

    The Pikachu moved over the battlefield, his body hanging limply as he struggled for every breath. “Witness what you so called liberators and heroes have wrought upon the people you allegedly care for,” she projected herself, the effort itself was monumentally tasking and draining. She could feel her strength being sapped, the possibility of keeping her projection like this for prolonged periods of time was slim. “You are blinded, bringing war to these people in the name of what? Misplaced allegiance? Do you think this, civilian, cares whom he bows down to, or who robs his coffers of hard earned treasures?” Her voice was deadly serious, her tone as terrifying and cold as she could possibly manage. The grip on the Pikachu tightened, his breaths grew increasingly shallow and desperate, his son looking on in horror.

    “Unlike you, I will keep my promise. Well, this time.” She let out an arrogant self-serving smirk. “If this battle continues and you do not withdraw, I will make it my personal mission, no, my pleasure, to see that I take the lives of as many innocents as I can. You may very well be conquerers, but I will see to it that you have conquered nothing but ash.” The Pikachu ceased his breathing, the precious supply of air severed from his lungs. Releasing her grip, he landed heavily on the battle below, his son unable to verbalize his fear and sadness into tangible sound. “One down,” She cut off communication, gasping for air herself. The effort had taxed her and she knew it, but she had to follow through.

    No longer exerting herself through communication, she focused all her remaining strength on lifting the Pichu next. Her threat evident to anyone who had been watching. It was their move, all she needed was a response.