2014-12-01 - Aiya! Awakening a new threat to Pretty Cure!

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Title: Aiya! Awakening a new threat to Pretty Cure!

Four lieutenants of the Dark Realms share a dream, then follow up on their vision and discover a grand new weapon. From there it's easy enough to hatch a plan...


Siren, Dark Precure, Eas, Poisony, A New Challenger


Dark Realms

OOC - IC Date:

<04/19/2014 - 12/01/2014>

<Pose Tracker> Siren [None] has posed.

Do cats dream?

Siren does, her midnight-black-violet-violent-velvet fur ruffling out as she squirms against her pillow at the top of a clock tower in Tama. Her soft, soft paws chase shadows against the wall. Her tail lashes back and forth, cracking the air, stilled of any music, like a conductor's baton of the symphony of silence.

Within, she is surrounded by darkness, which is not so different from where she sleeps. What is different is the sense of malice... and intent.

"Pretty Cure..." moans the voice, a wounded baritone that still contains hints of the power it must have had in its prime. "I will... face you... consume you..."

She stalks around the edge of the chasm where it sleeps, images flowing into her mind. A clash of colors, so many brilliant hearts. None of them Pretty Cure; all of them intent on the destruction of this fused shadow. But though they gave it strength, and then shattered him, they could not give him enough, nor destroy him completely.

It might take a thousand years for him to get out of that cave.

Unless he has help. If she, and those like her, lend him not simply strength, but purpose...

Her golden eyes are brilliant against the night as they snap open.


Messengers are dispatched, but not Trio the Minor. This mission is too important, too incredible, to risk sharing any of the glory before Lord Mephisto once it causes the Pretty Cure to be wiped out for good.

Well, for evil.

Forever, at any rate.

The gathering is beside the chasm of their dreams; the cat is the first to arrive. She stares down into the depths, filled with the perfect stillness of the apex predator. All around, a blasted landscape. Above, a sunless sky, occasionally filled with terrible blue lightning.

Below: the reason they've come.

<Pose Tracker> Eas [None] has posed.

In a sparse, carpeted room, wooden baseboards probably older than their occupant, Eas sleeps as well--but not well. She, too, has been dreaming, dim though it may be, her rigid scheduling interrupted by this /thing/ she can't help but know. It doesn't matter that she hasn't heard the voice, because dream logic doesn't require that kind of basic connection.

Not for the first time, she wakes up from one. Red eyes focus on a bare wall as she catches her breath. But this time is different.

This time...

When she readies for the gathering, she looks to her nightstand, to the shining green necklace there.

She leaves it.

"Switch Over!" she murmurs, and walks through the mansion to the way to a stranger place.

She doesn't bother to tell Westar or Soular.

She is the second to arrive, stopping short of the chasm and pausing, crossing her arms as she glances down it.

Eas knows how to follow orders.

<Pose Tracker> Dark Precure [Infinity Institute (11)] has posed.

Dreams were not uncommon in the halls of the Desert Apostles, but the dreams of the Dark Pretty Cure tended toward very specific memories... memories she could not ever quite grasp as her own.

But this was different. A single blue eye opens and, wordlessly, the Dark Precure rises. Her wing spreads wide, and she soars out of the citadel, unseen by all but the professor.

Some time later, she alights at the edge of the chasm, glancing down briefly. "Hm." Though she doesn't formally greet Siren or Eas, the brief glance she gives them speaks more than words: they were all summoned here by the same source.

<Pose Tracker> Poisony [None] has posed.

It's rare for Poisony to dream; such things are flights of childish fantasy, and unbecoming of someone like herself. At least, that's what she tells herself; there are some dreams, however, that can't be ignored.

Accordingly, Poisony tells no one before setting out, doing her best to intercept any messengers. Besides -- this mission is much too important for Pisard or Gekidrago.

Her gaze is drawn up, first, rather than down; the lightning in that sunless sky feels like a good omen. Sure enough, though, she looks down like the rest of them, lips slightly pursed. She's curious... but speaking first is a sure path to looking the fool.

<Pose Tracker> Siren [None] has posed.

With God as her witness, Siren is that fool.

She's going to grandstand a little; she must, as the Princess of Evil, the Diva of divas. It's mostly for show, but in the unsettling company of a Mobius executive, Desert Apostle sub-commander and Dark Zone operative, that show is needed more than ever.

"We have all had victories and defeats," she purrs, her voice darker still than any metaphor yet levied in the scene. "But the highest goal of each of our causes yet eludes us. And we all know what is standing in the way."

"Pretty Cure..."

The voice chimes in from the depths of the chasm, right on cue.

The cat hops down to another jagged bit of rock, beginning her descent of the chasm. Some may fly, some may float; she makes scrambling among the boulders look like a graceful dance as she leaps to and fro. They all have their ways.

"What do you say?" she calls over her shoulder. "Shall we see what comes of this?"

<Pose Tracker> Eas [None] has posed.

For her part, Eas is sure to give a bored look to each of Dark Precure and Poisony, laced with that little bit of contempt that is truly /best/ done by someone of her age. Only Siren escapes, and that is because Eas frowns, instead, before the speaking begins. ...She didn't go first, but she isn't inclined to comment on the order.

In her disapproval, she must surely be the one to decide against this plan. After all, her expression grows even more unpleasant at the mention of their highest goals, at the voice's call of her opponent. ...And yet...

"Hmph," Eas answers, and steps down. She jumps to the next rocky outcropping, and then the next, each one deliberate, each one trod upon as if she has a grudge to tell to every single stone.

At least one cracks under her heel after she leaves it.

<Pose Tracker> Dark Precure [Infinity Institute (11)] has posed.

The Dark Pretty Cure is, alas, too old to be able to perfect that middle school look. Or perhaps too young. Or both at the same time. Regardless, she tilts her head slightly toward the cat... then peers down into the pit again. "It might prove interesting."

Single wing spreads out, and the Dark Precure steps off the cliff. Rather than flapping as she descends, the wing merely holds itself out as Dark floats downward and touches down lightly. As she glances back up at those who must travel by foot, her expression isn't exactly impatient... but something in her one open eye does urge swiftness in descending.

The Dark Precure is not the most accomodating.

<Pose Tracker> Poisony [None] has posed.

Poisony looks over to Siren, irritated at having their failures called to such acute attention... but she's right -- they haven't met with success yet, and the reason is none other than what the voice in the chasm says. Pretty Cure have thwarted the Dark Zone many times...

As Siren descends, Poisony follows. Her movements are quicker than Eas's, but harsher at the same time; perhaps the best that could be said of her is that she moves stiffly. "There's nothing to lose," she reflects as she descends, "by looking..." Besides -- if this turns out to be a magnificent success...

/She/ gets all the credit. That's something that motivates her more than a little, as they descend.

<Pose Tracker> Siren [None] has posed.

Siren glares at Dark Precure and leaps outwards, midway down, trying to catch a ride on the one-winged devil's shoulders.

She misses, and plunges into the void. The sound of her landing is inaudible, but it is not, in fact, an infinite crevasse, and it becomes apparent that she landed on her feet. And is washing her paw. Because she totally meant to do that. Anyone looking at her is thoroughly ignored one moment, and met with a scathing golden glare the next.

The ground shifts underneath her, and she leaps, flipping in midair to land on a nearby outcropping, and totally knew that was coming, too, yep, and that's a PALM in the ground, with shadowy, half-physical fingers grasping and clutching.

Something about that shadow, that energy, seems familiar. It feels like whatever is the /most/ familiar to each of them; Zakenna, Nakewameke, Desertrian, Negatone. It is all of them and none, more and less than the sum of its parts, all at once.

"I need... to consume... them. To bring them within myself... and destroy their... separation. All will become one... one darkness."

The voice booms from, perhaps a little bit predictably, everywhere and nowhere.

<Pose Tracker> Eas [None] has posed.

If Eas were more accustomed to Earth gestures, she might have a very rude one to make at Dark Precure in the wake of that particular face she sees her making... but she is not, and so her usual glare will hve to suffice. Neither does she actually answer Poisony's sensible statement, or look at the fall of a certain Siren.

Eas does not really pretend to understand cats.

She reaches the ground in time, however, making the leap down once she actually sees a surface on which to land. ...And then jumps back up again, flipping backwards to land upon a nice urace that isn't /moving/.

What it feels is /weird/, and Eas crosses her arms again without really thinking about it.

/She/ should be the one to defeat them, and yet...

She can't go against Mobius-sama's wishes here.

"How?" she snaps. "What is it you need?"

<Pose Tracker> Dark Precure [Infinity Institute (11)] has posed.

The narrow shoulders of the Dark Cure make for a difficult landing platform, especially when she's moving downward and away from the point of leaping origin.

If that was a look of surprise on her face as Siren went flying past her and toward the ground, it's gone almost immediately.

Of course, the cat is safe on the ground because cat. But Dark only gives Siren a moment's acknowledgement before the ground begins to move. One of her hands lifts up, fingers held straight as if ready to attack, but she slowly lowers it as she sees the shadows. "You wish to consume the Precure, not merely defeat them?" Dark seems to consider this for a moment, slowly crossing her arms in a pose that mirrors Eas'.

"I would ask the same. Their spirits are resilient, more so than their bodies." Dark tilts her head slightly, glancing at the others. She's sure they've learned the same in their encounters.

<Pose Tracker> Poisony [None] has posed.

Once Siren lands neatly and demonstrates that there is, in fact, something to land on at the bottom, Poisony decides to cut to the chase. Her hair moves down ahead of her, expanding and lengthening to meet the ground; she then practically snaps to the bottom of the void, once she's found it with her hair. It's a neat, smooth motion.

This familiar energy... a Zakenna? Alone? No -- something greater. Perhaps it was... once, a Zakenna. She stays carefully away from those fingers... but she does, at least, /listen/.

Poisony shifts her gaze slightly to the side, doing her best to seem less interested in this creature than she actually is. "... I see," she says, quietly. This isn't, precisely, her /ideal/ outcome as regards those meddling girls... but it's certainly one she wouldn't turn down. "How can we help you, then?"

<Pose Tracker> Siren [None] has posed.

"It is their spirits... that I will consume. Their power... will become my power. And then they... will be mine."

This promise, this oath, is given as solidly as any bloodbond. And it tracks, at least to Siren. Power in, power out, right? If this is a weapon that is powered by Precure, how could they ever defeat it? Fighting it would only make it stronger.

"I like it," she announces, her tail swishing back and forth with annoyance, because she never likes something so fiercely as to feel truly positive about it.

The hand rises, then falls, clenching into a fist. It is a gathering of power, but not enough power. It is the revving of an engine that cannot quite turn over.

"Give me a beginning... and I will give you the end you seek."

A promise, yes. And a price.

<Pose Tracker> Eas [None] has posed.

No, she doesn't really /like/ it... But even as she begins to think of how to justify it, Eas realizes that she's doing it, and sets her jaw. It's not as if she has any reason to /care/. They're in her way, that's all, and any pretense that it's anything more than that is just part of the identity she made up to fool them.

If it works, then she's fulfilled her task, and Mobius will see what she can do. And if it doesn't... Then it's more proof that she's the one who should be fighting them.

"I'm in," she announces. Lowering her arms, she sets out her hand towards the great dark palm.

"Let it begin."

<Pose Tracker> Dark Precure [Infinity Institute (11)] has posed.

On the one hand, getting the Pretty Cures out of the way will further the goals of the Professor. On the other, the one Cure she most cares to see the total and complete demise of is out of her grasp.

Though perhaps if enough Cures were put into enough danger, she'd be able to finally find that one she seeks.

"Mmm. Agreed." She has power to spare for now, and a little bit couldn't hurt. "We will gather the power of the Precures' spirits."

<Pose Tracker> Poisony [None] has posed.

Mulling the idea over for a moment further, Poisony ultimately decides that she sees no real downsides. Something that can consume the power of the Pretty Cure... there's no more important masterstroke in their plans than that. Like Eas, she puts her hand out toward that palm... but unlike Eas, she allows herself the barest edge of a smile.

Trade a beginning for an end... it sounds fair to her. "To new beginnings, then?" she asks -- half to the sky, and half to the creature itself, as she allows herself to feel something dimly like excitement.

It passes quickly; Poisony was never much for giddiness. Instead, she chooses to shift her posture to an even taller, more confident one than she was previously allowing herself.

<Pose Tracker> Siren [None] has posed.

Siren sticks out a paw with all the affronted dignity of an opera singer who is also a cat. "If you must... very well." Her tail continues to lash back and forth.

It comes quickly, and despite warning, is, in many respects, impossible to prepare for. A gaping maw of need, the void within the void, it pulls at the offered power of the four young women, tears it into itself. It is the color of strange flames; red, violet pale and deep, blue.

The fist clenches... and contracts.



Finally, it is dense enough to have substance, to cast a shadow rather than simply be a shadow. But it is no longer a hand. Instead it is an orb, the most efficient shape. Although silver, it does not shimmer. There is little enough light to make it luminesce, but it's more than that; a matte, unforgivingly dull shade.

The color of an object of destruction, rather than of beauty. Bullet shells, not pendants; skyscraper bones, not artful palaces.

"Take me to them," it orders, it requests, it pleads; all of these, or perhaps none of them, but well-tuned to the ears of its audience.

Above, the lightning stops, and the silence on the plains of the Dark Realms is more terrible than the storm ever was.