[OPEN! : Ukitake's 'Surprise' Birthday Party BACKDATED 12/21] Snotty Pureblood edition

[lestrangestone]

Who: Bellatrix Lestrange lestrangestone , Draco Malfoy in_leatherpants , Dawn Summers girl_unlocking , Lust sonvisage , Bleach peeps (?) and ANYONE!
When: The evening of 12/21. Solstice baby, go!
Where: The Teashop!
Format: Actionspammy?
What: Party log! For this party! The snooty evil and almost evil peeps are there, as are some people of indiscriminate alignment and also derp.
Warnings: ATTITUDE?

Comments

[Lust is chilling in this area.]

[sonvisage]

[Sipping tea, likely by Lupin's side, should he be present, watching people speak and mingle, ever so often stealing glances at the music player. It seems to be close to the one at the HQ party a few months ago, when she'd had the pleasure of waltzing with both Father Anderson and Alphonse. And had earned herself a new name. All in all, pleasant memories. Especially the ones where Riza was glaring. She smiles in remembrance and shifts her position to better show off the see through quality of her dress. She cannot get enough wear out of it, seriously.]

[sonvisage]

[Born a human. Born a human? That would mean what, exactly? That this person in question had been human and been transformed into something other than? She's unsure of what works in this manner. Remus' lycanthropy had caused such a transformation, yes, but only at certain times, and no longer seemed an issue in this place. (For now?) But she hadn't recalled any conversation in which he had seemed to refer to himself as not human. She'd had limited exposure to vampires - the metal beast and the ...very blonde one that had fought the giant squid - (yes, that one had bid on her at the auction) and they had seemed nothing alike. But they were both referred to as not human. Soulless. (Like her?).]

Born a human.

[Hadn't they already agreed that a vampire was ...unfamiliar? So it couldn't be that, either. She's too curious to not give in. ]

Still be?

[And warily, beginning to reconstruct her fortress.]

This similar ability [looking down at her own hands for a moment] somehow places her humanity in question?

[That's funny. Because

[twoswordjuniper]

The ability itself does not put her humanity in question. Rather, her nature itself does that.

[Deneve pauses. Lust's reaction is very interesting indeed. Something about questioning the nature of humanity has changed her entire demeanor.

She sees no reason not to explain. The information isn't exactly a secret and hopefully she can gain some of Lust's trust by telling. It could be useful.]

She is like me. There are several of us in this city. We are often called Claymores by the people of our world. Humans who have been altered, physically hybridized with creatures called yoma. Half-monsters.

We remain human so long as our human minds remain in control of our bodies. The manifestation of her powers - the ability to lengthen her fingertips at will - is an aspect of the monster with which her body was combined. It is possible for the monster to take over. In her case, if it should, it would mean disaster. But all of us hope to die with our human minds in tact.

[sonvisage]

Half monsters.

[Oh, she's interested now. So much, in fact, her mask has slipped entirely and she doesn't notice. When she finally notices, she doesn't care.]

You aren't human entirely.

[Her eyes dart rapidly as she tries to understand what she's been told. To process it.]

Yoma.

[That is the name of the beast that is ...within you? Are they terrible, always, these yoma? Is this common? Did you---]

You underwent this ...hybridization willingly?

[Why? Was it better in Deneve's world to be something more than human, even if it was possible to lose one's mind, one's humanity in the bargain? Human minds intact? And then it dawns on her. Washes over her face with a flat sort of defeat, which creeps into her tone.]

You want to know if I'm like them. Like these yoma?

[She blinks, considers as the flare of defensiveness fades]

Or like you?

[twoswordjuniper]

I am human because my mind is still mine. My body is half monster, but my body is not what I am.

I was orphaned as a young child and sold to the Organization where I was hybridized. So no, I did not choose this. But I have accepted it.

[Deneve watches very closely. She sees the interest, the defeat, the defensiveness. And starts to put together a picture of her own from educated guesses and assumptions. Still, she will reserve her judgments until they can be confirmed.]

I have been in this place long enough to be beyond the idea that all things must have analogues to something from my world. But you are more like a Claymore than you are the monsters that live within us if all that I have seen is any indication.

[sonvisage]

[My body is half monster, but my body is not what I am will certainly stay with her for a long time. Lupin's said as much but it's not the same. It's not there always. His demons are separate. And very likely no more. Hers are...

...she's not sure if her mind is still hers at all. Or if it ever was to begin with.]

Accepted it. [How? How long before you acce---] Are Claymores very long-lived?

[And then Deneve says that. And it knocks the thoughts and any words that would have accompanied them right the fuck out. Have a speechless Homunculus, Deneve. Making tiny little thinkynoises.]

Do you regenerate?

[twoswordjuniper]

We don't age so, if we are not killed in battle, we are long-lived, yes. But thanks to the way our lives are run, by the Organization which created us, most of us do not survive long enough to claim that descriptor.

[She casually picks up off the table a small butter knife. It isn't sharp at all but Deneve has enough strength to dig a long gash in her arm. It's ugly and jagged and uneven due to the insufficiency of the weapon, but the blood barely has a chance to seep from the wound before her skin knits back together, closing the cut with not so much as a blemish remaining on her pale forearm.]

Regeneration is my greatest strength.

[She pauses again, raises her eyes to meet Iolanthe's. Undemanding but quietly curious, interested. She speaks softly.]

And you?

[An invitation for Lust to talk about her powers. Or to evade. Deneve is letting her run the conversation as much as possible. It's more informative that way.]

[sonvisage]

[She watches in quiet fascination as the woman's [??] flesh parts and barely bleeds - folds in on itself and is gone. Makes no move to hide her interest or her astonishment.

It shouldn't be surprising. There were all manner of creatures in Anatole, but nothing had struck home quite like this. Yet she's silent. And headtilting.]

I suppose you could say the same for me.

[A quick glance behind Deneve, and then the determination that it doesn't really matter who sees anymore. Hands folded into one another atop raised elbows on the table's surface, fingers of one hand pressing into the palm of the other. Suddenly shooting out several inches of black spire - straight through the flesh, through the bone before retracting. Her pupils dilate, but she doesn't wince. The wound is closed by the time she's wiped away the blood with a festive napkin. (Is that a ...rabbit?)]

Well, except for these. [She smiles a little (maybe it's the showing off, even though that isn't really what she's doing) and presses her fingertips together.]My kind is ...

[twoswordjuniper]

[She watches Iolanthe's display with muted interest. She's seen it's like before, but never from one that didn't have yoma in them.]

Homunculi. [She stores the word for further investigation.]

What is it about humanity that you desire to embody? Because it isn't impossible to be a human in a monster's body. Someone taught me that a long time ago. Humanity is a state of mind. You are as human as anyone in this room if you believe that you are.

[sonvisage]

[Because it isn't impossible to be a human in a monster's body.]

[...]

[It isn't?]

[This is the sound of her brain breaking a little. Thoughts coming to a screeching halt and wrecking upon one another. That's just it. I'm not sure what I believe, or who I am, for that matter.]

If I carry memories of the human woman that ...came before me, am I somehow more a part of her? What if the memories are so dim that they could hardly be called memories at all?

[Have a long, thinkysilence. And a slow headtilt as she brains this.]

The freedom to choose. What I do, and why. And the ability to feel...

...something other than this emptiness? This ...lack of things? But I...

I'm not sure what to believe. Or to say. And I'm hardly ever out of words.

[twoswordjuniper]

What has taken your freedom to choose and to feel? Why is it you believe that those things are outside of your power?

[She holds the little butter knife in her hand, having already wiped the blood of of it on one of the odd little napkins, and it flashes innocently in the light. And reflects a fuzzy picture of their faces as its angle changes.]

If the memories are so dim, perhaps they are more like memories of someone else's stories. Not yours, but a part of you.

[sonvisage]

I'm free to choose what I wish in this place, and I'm grateful for that. However, I can't say that I'm without regret for what came before this place. It's funny ...I thought I was without regret.

[She's peering at that knife.]

Choice was always in my power, I suppose, but I was too blinded, too ...unquestioning to know this. I won't make that mistake again.

These ...emotions are new. Unreliable. Mutable? I thought they belonged to the memories, or were entwined somehow, but I'm not so sure.

[twoswordjuniper]

Deciding not to make the mistake of allowing yourself to be lead blindly is a strong step. Keep to it, be independent. Let no one tell you what to believe. Look for yourself and make your own decisions. Then you will know that every choice, good or bad, is nothing but your own.

[The knife flashes again, but Deneve isn't looking at it. Her eyes are on Lust, piercingly honest.]

If you feel them, they are yours. Examine yourself and understand where they come from. But you should remember that shadows can't feel. If your emotions are real and you feel them through your body, they do not belong to your memories.

[And she breaks eye-contact here and looks down at the knife in her hands.]

At least, that is how it seems from a perspective outside of your situation.