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 The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]

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Subject Post 1PostSubject: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Tue Jun 12, 2018 11:48 am








The Melody

Artist: Carrotwine - Song: Dark Side Of The Road


In an aging world, everything had its beginning, and it had its end; people and races, and hopes and lofty ambitions. Even the very strongest of beings had their ends. Even those whom at different points in history and myth were deemed as gods sooner or later met their fateful end. Even those who boasted immortality and transcendence would one day draw their last breath, see the last face, and feel the last emotion. Almost everything in the world was finite; almost. There were very few sentiments that transcended space and time, the strongest beings who had ever lived, and those that were to follow. It was the desires of the heart and not the flesh that most often sacrificed a life in exchange for another. It was those desires that willingly left a life behind for the chance to fight and triumph in their struggle to earn the one they deserved. That sort of struggle never quite vanished, especially when it was so deeply burned into the self of the individual or the race as a whole.

Such was the case with the Quincy. The group had been to the brink of extinction more than a few times. Every time they had barely been able to hang on, just to endure and thrive, only to face potential extermination yet again. There wasn’t any doubt they were a resilient race that simply refused to stand down and die. In their process to create their own legacy they went through a number of changes in leadership and in organizational personality that shaped them into who they became. But at the very end, it was their choice to choose their own path that finally earned them the freedom to live as they pleased and die as they willed, and be happy about it. Sofia was far from having all of her life and her problems figured out, but she was getting there. As for the woman with whom she had scheduled to meet, it seemed she faced similar struggles, and at the very least needed someone to talk to. The Quincy wasn’t the type to go out and talk for the sake of helping, especially not a Demon, but there was far more in Demonica that met the eye.

”I’ve been expecting you,” said Sofia.

Her words were directed at the shadow that projected a few feet before her, and at the energy that made its presence noticeable in her vicinity. There wasn’t much the Quincy knew about Demonica, but what she knew was enough. The Demon once had significant presence among the biggest names in the hierarchy of the Demons, and among other notable though decadent organizations like the Monsuta. She had been formidable in the worst of ways, and made a name for herself and her power in the very best of ways. Still, it seemed that defeat or failure had been a plague she hadn’t easily rid herself of. And whether it was that very thing, her pride, or how her people shunned her, the woman was done with everything she had once served and been loyal to. Of course, that was simply Sofia’s understanding based on the information she had available. There was enough room to be wrong, but with their meeting, it seemed al their questions would be answered.

”I trust you know who I am,” said Sofia with arms crossed underneath her bosom. “I am Sofia Montero, Sternritter Grandmaster of the Vandenreich.”

Her words were firm, and though she didn’t intend to gloat, there was pride in her voice. The girl had to be cautious, and with duo reason. There was no telling whether the Demon had a change of heart, or if her intentions had suddenly changed. Besides, given her level of power there weren’t many up to task to meet and face up to her. And more importantly, even if there were, she wouldn’t have missed the chance meeting. The Demon’s reputation and power preceded her, but so did the Quincy’s. Sofia was still widely known as the prodigy to her race that despite her youth was able to rival and surpass those over millennia older whether in battle of brawn or brains. She had simply matured in body and mind faster than most, earning the respects of beings several generations her senior. Her attire was rather formal and representative of the Sternritter uniform. It consisted of a white military uniform with outlines and edges of gold. Black pantyhose and gloves matched perfectly with the dark ebony look of her flowing black hair, and contrasted with the rich bright gold of her eyes. A pure and silky white ribbon on her hair finished off the look, with a katana, likely a spirit weapon, sheathed to her side.




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Subject Post 2PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Tue Jun 12, 2018 9:52 pm





THE BLACK KING EMERGES

Artist: Undertale OST - Song: Your Best Friend - Word Count: 914

All this power, all this might that she held in the palm of her hand. What was it good for? Demonica was out of her comfort zone. . her feet moving slowly against the trodden earth beneath her. Raven hair blowing in the wind like a whip, moving to the side as her clothing, simple yet elegant were rippling in the wind. There was many things present in the way this warrior demon held herself, there was pride. Oh yes, a pride that allowed her to challenge even the gods themselves if that was what it took, there was a ferocity that lay muted in her gaze, a savageness that could allow her to rip the earth apart, and fight the world alone without bowing. Yet there also was a desolation. . a loneliness that mired her gaze, it dulled the sharpness that radiated from her, it muted the raw power that cascaded from her being merely from her aura alone. What was power? It was the ability to glance at a person and overwhelm them with simply will alone, it was the ability to bring forth the wind and rain with a twitch of a finger, and banish it with a breath.

Yet what was it good for? She had failed against ibiki, had failed to keep her place of belonging and once more found herself alone in the world. Power. . was truly worthless when you thought about it realistically, the more of it you had--the lonelier you would end up being. Yet someone. . . unlikely had reached out to her. The prodigy of the quincy, known as sofia montero had a fortnight ago contacted her and suggested they meet. Demonica, having nothing better, and nowhere to go had decided to humor this request and that brought them to the present.

Demonica was a monster, plain and simple in the eyes of the world. She had caused so much destruction, erasing cities in the soul society, and destroying famous mountains in the world of the living. She had fought people who were known as the strongest of their kind, she had braved the wind and the rain. That aura was easily projected as she continued to walk towards the Prodigy of the vandenreich. However there was no. . malice behind that aura as the demoness, almost a half-head taller than the prodigy stopped around twenty feet from her, in time to hear the woman’s pronouncement of “I have been waiting for you “.

Demonica’s stance was, a window into her exhaustion. She had one arm tucked underneath her breasts, her hand coiled around the other arm that was resting at her side. Her eyes though. . . even as the darkness of her own sorrow dampened them there was such power behind that gaze. It was like she was peering down from the heavens that lay above. Very similar to the look that the quincy leader would give everyone. Distant as if she was keeping her true self from being seen by the realm around them. As if by doing this she could remain unharmed by the world, unchanged by it’s everlasting tides and wakes. Eventually a sigh would leave her lips, as the words would flow. None of them as maleficent as her reputation would lead others to believe possible.

”I am here, but why have you called me Sofia? What could you gain from meeting me? What worth is there in this encounter for you?”

Maybe this was a glimmer behind the curtain into the loneliness this being at the top felt. Her words were soft, as if she truly believed that sofia could gain nothing from her, or from their encounter. This was not pessimistic in the slightest though, given as the demoness looked. . worn. Her feet were bare given her shoes had long since worn out after leaving the monsuta, and she had discarded them. She truly was without a home to call her own, merely a eternal wanderer who had been goaded and pushed to the brink time and time again by that cruel thing known as “fate”.




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Subject Post 3PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Sat Jun 16, 2018 11:18 am

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]




THE QUINCY PRODIGY

Artist: N/A - Song: N/A


Right before her stood the being with a name as heavy as their spiritual pressures. Even when doing their part to keep their energy under check, the ground shook slightly with the smallest of pebbles raising a few inches off the ground for moments at a time. The woman didn’t really fit the look she had expected. Demonica. For some time she had expected a towering beast covered in black and blood, and a hideous appearance that could send chills down one’s spine. While the Quincy couldn’t argue that the Demon’s reputation hinted at being capable of doing just that, her appearance was certainly deceiving. The lady was of fair height, possibly about three to four inches taller. Her skin was fair and smooth, just like Sofia’s, and her hair of a subtle purple tint. In more ways than one she was very attractive. Once one separated the persona from the look, there it was a highly beautiful woman. Perhaps there was beauty to be had beyond her physical veil, but it would take time to find, and it was neither here nor there.

”Try and place two and two together, said Sofia with an astute smile, ”You know exactly why I called you, but I can understand your curiosity.”

As she talked, the holy being, as some called them, walked closer. First it was ten feet, then five, then three until Sofia was standing less than a foot away from her. Such actions against either of them would likely have been met by death in almost any other circumstance; especially when both parties were acquaintances at best. Once she was before her, the Quincy would turn and circle the Demon, making no attempt to advert her gaze from her and her body. She admired the look of her body, likely made to perfection by the dark magic of the Demons. She couldn’t help but think of her own young Human body. Most found some kind of compliment to offer in its regard but it hadn’t yet been helped by the magical in its aesthetic regard.

”I must say I something else,” said the Quincy right behind her, biting gently on her lower lip. ”But I suppose I can’t complain. After all,” added Sofia as the sheathed end of her katana propped the white skirt of the Demon up to get a good look at the smooth look of her thighs. ”How could I?”

The action was bold, but it wasn’t as outwardly perverted as some could’ve made it out to be. Sofia had no interest to check on the shape of her butt, or even to see what the color of her panties were; not yet anyways. The woman was just interested in the womanly yet powerful physique of the being that had gathered such an infamous streak. More importantly however, the Quincy felt she had overdressed for the situation. Whereas Demonica wore a simple but pretty white dress, Sofia had arrived in fully formal Vandenreich attire. Surely sooner or later she would intend to change, largely for comfort. On a more serious note however, she couldn’t help but wonder what her newest acquaintance thought of her. Did she live up to the rumor or the look? Frankly there was very little they could gather from each other without a form of rough and primal negotiation but that would soon enough.

”I’m typically one for business before pleasure, but in this case perhaps its best to break the ice in a manner that would make our negotiations more… efficient. Nearest large city, downtown area. Do not be late.”

Without a moment’s notice she was off. The Quincy used that speed she was so famously known for. After all, it was a core element of her combat style. For someone that couldn’t rely on physical strength, physical altercations were usually the result of mixing great speed and momentum with her use of the blade. In tandem it allowed her to keep up with opponents she shouldn’t, and be that unique fighter most people spoke of highly. With her words however was another layer of truth visible only to a select unfortunate few. Only the very proud would see the clearly defiant challenge in her proposition. Sofia meant she would get there first, she only presented the expectation that Demonica try and not be too slow; and therein laid the problem. The Quincy was an extremely proud woman, the likes of which only people like Demonica would understand. More importantly, she never issued a challenge she knew she couldn’t win. After all, she wasn’t considered a prodigy because she was the fastest or the strongest, but rather because despite her youth, she was brilliant.

As soon as she was out of sight the Quincy did something. It wasn’t clear whether it was a technique, an item, or something else entirely but concentrating on her energy would be a lot more difficult. Either because her signature had vanished, because every other energy felt like hers, or hers felt like everyone else, it would present a real challenge. If Demonica stopped to try and calculate it sooner or later she would, but doing so would mean Sofia would get to the city first, as she said she would. On the other hand Demonica could have simply gotten to the city at the same time or earlier, depending on how their speed compared. However despite her words, getting there first had never been Sofia’s plan. She had no reason to leave her acquaintance but by the time they met she would have already won. Essentially, whenever Demonica arrived at the city she would not see her. Though the energy from the Quincy would quickly give away her position as being within a large clothing store where Sofia had already changed into a garment more convenient for the occasion, and more fitting to her liking.



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Subject Post 4PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Sat Jun 16, 2018 9:00 pm





THE BLACK KING EMERGES

Artist: Undertale OST - Song: Your Best Friend - Word Count: 914

“.. Mm..”

Demonica’s expression was one of slight confusion after the procession of words had finally come to a close. It wasn’t persay that anything that sofia said wasn’t expected, or at the very least warranted. It was rather than demonica, despite her ability to throw her weight around in virtually any fight known in existance--was not super experienced when it came to mundane social situations. They perplexed her, kinda of like a rubix-cube where an asswipe has switched around two of the stickers--she can get close to being good at it, but it’s never really clicked. That was why she didn’t really have a quick, witty, or. . well coherently smart-sounding response to the answers she had gotten, and had opted to fidget slightly in place and observe the situation as it was unfolding.

Admittedly however, demonica wasn’t expecting the quincy to broach her personal bubble, and to do so in such a. . close manner as she had. Demonica was a warrior, and as proud as she may be, she often did not like others invading the sancitity of her own “personal bubble”, too many bad things could happen that she might not be able to react to at such a short distance as the one sofia approached to stop at. However, she for the sake of curiousity and maybe. . because of the fact that this was a meeting, and not a deathmatch stilled her frayed nerves and let the interaction go on par whatever course it was heading down. A sentiment that brought a faint redness to the Demonesses lips as she felt the side of her skirt lifted with a . . . katana of all things. The way she was being surveyed, even though she knew there were possibly a thousand reasons for, when coupled with sofia’s words and actions made her feel well. . not quite like a slab of meat, but a runway model being eyed by the hungry wolves in the crowd, as if she was being judged for something.

Then, of all the things Sofia could say, or do in this situation she picked one of the most baffling for the demon: Giving her a destination, and a time-frame, and . . . a location that truly meant nothing to her. Thus as the quincy prodigy shot off like a veritable rocket towards her destination, Demonica closed her eyes and opted on the safer route--sensing her location and then hurrying over there at max speed. Sure, it irritated her on a soul deep level due to her naturally competitive nature. She didn’t want to be the one there last, but in such a situation as this it was rigged almost to the point that she’d have to wait and figure out where this lass was going. Yet as she closed her eyes and honed in her senses to find the quincy, the prodigy had decided to certainly not make things easy for her.

The prodigy’s signature had essentially cluster-fucked itself in several different manners in a near simultaneous time-span. The result of course being that demonica had only sensed a clothing store before the delightfully frustrating quincy had vanished off the radar.

”Fuck.”

Demonica growled in a fairly guttural manner before she crouched down, her legs and arms taking the same position as a sprinter from the starting blocks. Only then did her body go to work, her powerful muscles rippling as she adjusted her angle to most of the force went back and down at an angle, her body launching off with such force that hair-line fractures would sink into the ground and back for a mile and a half. The kinetic force allowing demonica to vanish temporarily as the impending shockwave and sonic-boom lagged behind a few seconds after. At this speed it took her maybe a half a second to hit the city limits, and then another two seconds to stop without smashing through the city, or more importantly causing damage. Eventually though demonica would make her way to . . a clothing store, opening the door with one of the most . . disgruntled looks anyone may have had the pleasure of ever seeing on her face.

Her dress was . . . in tatters due to the back that to reach her optimal speed, she had removed her barrier to use her natural bodies properties to shred through the resistance in the air. Which unfortunately ripped through the special-made garment she had. The fact that it was stil . . on was a testament to the craftsmanship and durability of the piece in the first place. Now, naturally a half-naked girl with a stunning physique garnered quite a bit of attention. Most people would be embarrassed probably but demonica simply exhaled and walked over to the quincy prodigy and instead of asking what the devil she was doing she counted to. . maybe eighty and then asked in a even, and slightly curious tone.

”. . What kind of ice-breaking place have you taken me to here. . . ?





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Subject Post 5PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Tue Jul 03, 2018 8:29 am

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]




THE QUINCY PRODIGY

Artist: N/A - Song: N/A


”The best kind of place.”

Her elaborate plan had indeed worked as expected. Demonica had taken the bait and chosen to trail the energy signal as opposed to heading to the predestined location. Regardless of her speed, there were several factors playing against her. For starters Sofia had a head start. Also the momentary confusion and decision making only helped to widen the gap further. And even when her mind was finally set, there was the concern of finding Sofia when she tried her best to make locating her with relative ease a definite pain in the rear. Still, the Demon managed to find and arrive at her location far faster than she had anticipated. By the time Demonica got there and spoke, Sofia had barely put her newest outfit on, having paid for it just seconds earlier.

”We need to get you out of those clothes,” said the Quincy with a grin, as snickering was heard from a couple guys walking right outside the store. ”Here, come with me.”

If willing, Sofia would take her by the hand and lead her inside the store. There were far too many like it, all next and around a large domed area which could only be a shopping mall; and about the largest one there was too. The inside was large, and really wet lit. Everything was neatly organized, and the variety of clothes ranged from the simple to the complex, and from the affordable to the rather exuberant. Despite her affluence however, the price wasn’t something the Quincy was concerned with. Instead, she set her eyes on a rather nice looking outfit that compared in size and styling to hers, with only the choice and arrangement of colors being the difference.

”This, definitely this,” said the Quincy as she pulled the Demon into a changing room together with her.

No one present said anything about the situation since it seemed exceedingly common. There was nothing out of the ordinary about what happened save for the fact that they weren’t mere Humans and didn’t hold the save level of ethics; though it was mostly the fact they had essentially just met. On that topic, Sofia was behaving in a comparably different way than she typically did. To most she was known as the tough and harsh Grandmaster who exercised her control to maintain discipline within the ranks of the Vandenreich. To others she was simply a powerful warrior with a great taste and skill in music. Very few knew the lighter hearted side of hers, as that was a form of weakness she very rarely allowed to be seen, save for circumstances where she had something to gain from it.

In this case, Demonica had very useful and important information. She had been acquainted with some of the higher echelons of power within Shadow Fall, and possessed information very few had the balls to share. And while her involvement in spiritual affairs had left far more to be desired, her willingness to change and meet was a step in the right direction. If she could spare information that would help in the destabilization of her former allies, then it would get her closer still to redemption. And if she helped Sofia and the cause that was righteous, one who prioritized lives, then perhaps she could still be saved. Granted, everything was but words and thoughts, since the actual delivery could turn out to be completely different. For that reason, the Quincy had chosen to use a subtler approach. If everything went well, then the woman could slowly acclimate to her rather than seeing her for what she was from the get go.

”This needs to come off,” said the Quincy as she started to tug and pull on the Demon’s outfit. ”If there’s anything underneath, lose that too. We’re shopping somewhere else after.”

It was already relatively obvious there was no clearly malicious intent. She wasn’t sure how readily willing Demonica would be to essentially strip in the nude, but there wasn’t much choice given in the manner. Of course, if it truly bothered her she could certainly ask for things to stop, though then she’d have her pride to answer to as to why she couldn’t go to the lengths Sofia could. Ironically enough, the Quincy had done her own bit of growing throughout the last couple years in that regard. When she first joined the Vandenreich, barely as an adult, she was far more stuck up, and more of a prude than one could get. In time, with vast amounts of experience and exposure to a variety of spiritual creatures, thing started to take a turn for the different. It was no secret that having the seal for nearly a full year had its own defining and lasting effect on her persona, even after ridding herself of its overarching presence. Since then the woman was far more willing to behave in ways that she previously never would. She hadn’t become a different person, Sofia had simply eased the restrains and inhibitions of herself to become a more complete, and overall better being.

If everything was allowed to transpire as expected, Demonica should have seen herself with a sort of dress that was strikingly similar to Sofia’s. It was probably made by the same company or the same designer. The skirt went down just as long, and the edges and outlines were designed in an identical fashion. Had they not looked different, one could have easily thought they were siblings attempting to dress like each other. However, whereas Sofia’s dress was a mix of blue and white, Demonica’s was a mix of black and white. Due to how similar their bodies were as far as height, proportions, and the size and heft of their more feminine assets, the dresses would have looked as perfectly fit to one as they would be on the other. The ice was finally broken, and the ball was now on her court. However the Demon should take caution and remember that due to Sofia tossing out and away the garments she previously had, walking should be done carefully and slowly, after all… there wasn’t anything underneath her dress.




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Subject Post 6PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Wed Jul 04, 2018 4:22 pm





THE BLACK KING EMERGES

Artist: Undertale OST - Song: Your Best Friend - Word Count: 914


Demonica didn’t quite understand the need for clothes. Thus, out of logical process of thought, she was quite confused when sofia extended a hand and spoke about how she needed to probably change into something “new”. For her her clothing was always just something she wore to adorn her body. There was no real functionality behind them, after all the sun couldn’t harm her. Bullets couldn’t harm her, falling from great heights couldn’t harm her, and the winds that surrounded her could not harm her either. Clothing, originally was intended to protect humans from the elements, so if they didn’t serve their purpose why should she wear them? That was the train of thought that went through her mind as she heard the snickering in the background. Yet that did not stop her from reaching out and grasping that outstretched hand.

Why? She couldn’t even answer why she took it. Maybe it might be apt to chalk it up to curiosity of the unknown, all beings had it--even she did. Demonica never had shopped, she had never understood the fascination the realm had on clothing. Yet, today she was determined to sample the unique pleasures that might come with it. Humans didn’t notice her, they didn’t judge her and it was an odd sensation to be just a part of the crowd as she was pulled along by the exuberant girl who seemed to be intent on leading her to do something.

Pulled through sliding doors into a large room that was filled to the brim with clothing. Every size, every shape. Some were skimpy, lacey and tiny things which demonica couldn’t even begin to fathom how to put on. Others were strange, with locks and keys and iron bands to them which confused the girl greatly. Demonica was certainly female, but she was out of touch with her femininity. She didn’t know about brassiere’ Panties, Thongs, Garter Belts, Camisole, she didn’t know of the variety of undergarments that were possible to be browsed through. She knew nothing of boot-cut, lax fit, skinny, or straight cut jeans, nor did she know of high-waisted jeans, jeggings, leggings, or other assorted forms of stretchy clothing that seemed to be the rage. All that she had ever worn was the functional, the simple and the useful.

Infact she eyed a rather skimpy one-piece which looked like triangles attached to spaghetti and wondered dismally if that was for wearing, or for tying someone up. Clothes seemed to be a mystery that she couldn’t begin to fathom, and thankfully the person who had dragged this clothing-neanderthal into the store had a more apt idea of what may be befitting for the girl. Demonica was roused from her contemplative state of mind as she was yanked into a dressing room and just went beyond asking and started tearing clothing off. Yes, the key word here would be taring--as due to the state of demonica’s attire any and all force exerted on it would simply end up with the special cloth being torn from her body.

Demonica wore no bra, she didn’t even wear panties it seemed once all the clothing was shucked. Underneath her skin was pure white, faint scars criss-crossing the otherwise perfect skin. Supple and soft other than the raised bumps of scars that lingered upon her. Unlike most demons she didn’t hide the aesthetics of her battles. Her body was a tapestry, something that was shaped by every battle she had underwent. Every scar had a story, every blemish had a reason--and she was proud of them all. All in all she was toned, sleek, shapely and well-endowed. Her body radiated the power that lurked beneath the surface of her skin in those deceptively slender, albeit toned muscles.

Yet, as soon as she was undressed she was being ushered in new clothing--struggling to get her arms in the right places, and her body to fit against the snug size. Eventually though it all had been put on her. She had to admit she did look better than she had--even if she had no clue as to why she would need to look better, or wear clothes for that matter in the first place.

”Clothing feels . . restricting. I don’t know if i like it.”

Her nose crinkled as she reached down as if she was going to tug on the skirt. However she stopped, lest she destroy the clothes she was wearing. Her eyes sweeping across the space before she exhaled and said lightly.

”I have to wear more clothing?”

However it would be easy to see she wasn’t going to contest this. She followed Sofia quite willingly, her head on a swivel as she took in the strangeness of this “mall” that surrounded her.





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Subject Post 7PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:16 pm

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]




THE QUINCY PRODIGY

Artist: N/A - Song: N/A


The Demon was far more compliant than she had originally expected, and that was good. It stood as testament to how far she had come, and how much she had allowed herself to change. From her point of view, Sofia believed that Demonica had been lost for quite a lot of years. She believed the girl did what she thought was best and needed, which not surprisingly happened to be the sole purpose of someone else’s agenda. Now, while Sofia did fully intend to use Demonica and her knowledge to help the Vandenreich and other factions dedicated to protecting the Earth, it was slightly different. Whether the Quincy believed it or not, she was allowing the girl to be free and choose her own path. She could reflect on her past and the results her actions brought. She could reflect in the way people she trusted truly viewed her and gauge the actions for her future. She would have the choice to make the better and wiser choice for the good of all, and if she did, the Quincy would be there to ease her on her way.

“By the way,” said the Quincy once they were within the changing room. “Do you mind if I just call you Monica? Your name is pretty weird and it gives the wrong impression of you; no offense.”

She was right however. A name was a name, but hers literally sounded like the race known for so much destruction. And while it was true that plenty of her kind had turned their ways and helped protect the innocent rather than pillaging for their own sake, any step forward was a good one. At least the nickname would make conversations easier and allow some of those around them to approach her without fearing for their life before uttering her name. Inside the changing room, Sofia took interest on the scars previously hidden as they lined up her body. Her attention would be noted as she spent a good few seconds inspecting them before going back to the dress. It looked perfect on Monica. It both matched and contrasted pretty darn well with the dark of her hair and the smooth and somewhat pale of her skin. Her feminine assets, as generous as Sofia’s, managed to fit every part of the dress and make it shine to its fullest extent.

“Some clothing can be restrictive,” said Sofia as she pulled some on Monica’s hip, trying to get her to turn around. “But it looks good, and this one shouldn’t hold you back much.”

Once they were done there, the Quincy would pay at the counter with a few bills of large denomination. Despite the price, the Montero family had amassed enough levels of affluence to allow for a rather lavish lifestyle she was just beginning to enjoy. As they walked out however, the girl made sure that Monica’s skirt didn’t raise all that much. Because despite wearing about the same outfit save for the change in colors, at least Sofia had a bra and panties underneath, avoiding the crease and shape from creating in areas that would draw eyes to the Demon other than hers. Luckily for the two of them, the next store was just one or two locales to their left. A large red sign in cursive welcomed them in, someone’s secret being the name of the place.

”Well, for hygiene, to prevent others from paying more attention to your butt than your words, and because some of them look dang cute; yes, you need more clothing.”

Unlike the last place, this store had significantly less guys. There was one or two at most, and they seemed more preoccupied with how lacy and how tight a pair of undergarments were than just about anyone else there. Of course, the selection was rather varied. There were very cute and lacy things that covered just about anything rather well. There were some meant for the more daring of gals, which covered almost nothing but looked exceedingly cute. And of course, there were other items more fitting on a movie of ill repute about angry good-looking teachers, and naughty students that looked far too old to be in high school. In any case, there was about a hundred different brands and models for just about every style and choosing the right one could prove to be a daunting task.

“Well, do any of those catch your eye? Do you like any of them?”




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Subject Post 8PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Sat Jul 07, 2018 7:41 pm





THE BLACK KING EMERGES

Artist: Undertale OST - Song: Your Best Friend - Word Count: 914


As Demonica walked along the white marble floor of the mall, her clothing pristine and clean. Fancy and lavish it was strange to say the least to her. She was used to fighting, to living, to being an object that could be used as a means to a rather violent end. But the feeling of the clothing that pressed against her skin, and the jovial mood of the crowd around her had thrown her for a loop. She was like a fish out of water, she was entirely unused to the situation and it could clearly show. Demonica’s eyes continued to survey the crowd as she was trying to identify what kind of threat she would have to subdue, even though she continued to be unable to find one of note.

She hadn’t quite had time to respond earlier but she didn’t seem to mind when Sofia gave her a nickname. Infact she wouldn’t show it but it gave the usually brutal demon a budding ember of warmth inside her. She had fought people, she had been an enforcer but she had never just simply done stuff like this. She had never been given a nickname either and to be honest--she found it be to comforting. Infact if Sofia was paying attention they might be able to see a truly rare sight: a smile of contentment. Upon demonica’s lips a light smile curved from the corners of her lips as she was enjoying the excursion that they had gone on for the time being.

Soon however she was dragged into another foreign store. One that was lined from wall to wall in strange cloth items that seemed to be of great interest to those of the fairer sex. Infact as she heard what Sofia said about hygiene she paused and picked one off the shelf when the quincy wasn’t looking. Her eyes scrutinized the black-lace object with a bow in the center of it. It was so flimsy, and it was even see-through. How could such a thing be possibly able to cover one's self especially in combat? Demonica couldn’t even begin to fathom it and because of that she had stuck her index fingers in either side of it and began to pull. Focusing on it’s tensile strength as sofia went on about how these would cover her butt and make people take her more seriously. Further and further the undergarment stretched and just when demonica thought it would break she had shifted her fingers. This caused for the panty to go flying off her finger to end up hitting some unfortunate girls boyfriend in the face.

Ironically the girlfriend took it to be someone elses panties and began to berate the bewildered boyfriend as demonica watched them for a moment. Confused as to why such an innocuous piece of attire could cause for such a ruckus. Even so though demonica pulled out a thong and was looking at it. Obviously she had no concept of size given the thong was for a extra extra large lady. For all intents and purposes it looked more like a jump-rope in demonica’s hands than an actual article of clothing but she would clear her throat as she held the large thong out and asked lightly.

”How do i. . . wear these?”

She obviously wasn’t comfortable with the question but even so she thought to ask it. Meanwhile in the background the girl had slapped her boyfriend and gone storming out of the shop. However demonica was focused on sofia as she didn’t have the slightest idea as to what these clothing did. Given she had never wore any before, which obviously could be seen from how she was holding the large thong in her hands like it was some kind of weapon of mass destruction.





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Subject Post 9PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Sun Jul 08, 2018 12:06 pm

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]




THE QUINCY PRODIGY

Artist: N/A - Song: N/A


She wasn’t entirely sure whether Monica was acting that way because of her past, or if it was simply a ruse. In either case she would find out soon enough, though part of the Quincy hoped it was simply the Demon’s better judgment as she chose to define the kind of perso9n she wanted to be remembered as. Still, her thoughts and doubts were momentarily cast away by the elusive semblance of a smile, painted on her newest of acquaintance. It wasn’t a rare sight for her kind, though most often it was coy, full of sarcasm, or with deep and dark intents. This time however, the smile had a certain aura to it, and produced a sort of surreal glow that was surprisingly welcoming.

Even before they entered the next store, Sofia was almost certain her friend would have little if any experience in such a place. Whether she was acquainted with the different kinds of basic garments, not many with their experience and power were as exposed to thing such as the latest models, or the better brands, or even the more comfortable or slightly of sensual female wear. Of course, for the most part it didn’t seem to stem from willful ignorance, but simply because they didn’t care; most had very different set of priorities, and that was okay. As for Sofia however, she had fun indulging in some of her more Human and mundane of hobbies. Sometimes it escaped most who met her, but the girl was still in her early twenties, at barely 23 years of age; she was young.

Once inside however, she couldn’t help but chuckle, trying to restrain herself from laughing in amusement. Her friend was eyeing every piece of lingerie as though it was some form of new and unorthodox kind of weaponry. Her eyes had eventually set on a surprisingly fancy and beautiful model. It was lacey, black, and with a tiny pink ribbon up front. It was meant to show enough to be somewhat naughty, yet it covered enough to be considered appropriate for almost any situation, unlike the large majority of the popular selections. Sofia was surprised. To think Monica would have the skill, the finesse, and the taste to know to pick something like that to wea-no. That wasn’t it at all.

“Wait, hang on,” said Sofia, “that’s not how you use…those.”

Just as she finished that sentence the black lacey panties would slingshot out of the Demon’s hands, and atop some poor guy in the store. He didn’t even have a chance to look at who had done it; his girlfriend noticed first. And with a swift smack to his head and some proverbial verbal smack from her end, it seemed as though he had quite simply fucked up despite having no fault in the matter. Regardless, the Quincy pulled Monica away from sight of those two, long enough for the Demon to find a completely different set of undergarments. These were much elastic, with a size meant to fit someone easily four times her size. They had a pearly and peachy look, comparable to a design that would most commonly be sold at a vintage store. Even more jarring however was the fact it wasn’t the standard panties design, but rather a thong.

”You don’t,” said Sofia taking the large piece of fabric from her hands and setting it down. “Come with me.”

Taking her by the hand once more, Sofia almost pushed her into the nearest changing room. It was done quickly enough to avoid the previous guy from successfully finding her, and staving off some of the heat he was still catching from his girlfriend. In the meantime, the Quincy picked out a nice looking set of panties and went into the changing room with Monica. She certainly knew how to wear them or so she thought. Still, she hadn’t handed off to her just yet. She hoped that with a simple explanation, it would all she truly needed; if it was needed at all. If worst came to push, then she would have no choice than to actually show her how it was done. Though whether that was more exciting than embarrassing was a revelation she was certain to keep only to herself.

“Take this, but remember it can’t be too loose, and it can’t be too tight either. It has to fit snugly so that you essentially forget it’s there…eventually.”




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Subject Post 10PostSubject: Re: The Wings of Freedom [Demonica]   Tue Jul 10, 2018 7:40 pm





THE BLACK KING EMERGES

Artist: Undertale OST - Song: Your Best Friend - Word Count: 914


It seemed like a disaster was (barely) avoided when the quincy lass pulled the confused demon into the confines of the changing room. Almost like the spinning cogs of fate had decided to give them a break, they had just narrowly missed the girl who was barreling fuming in anger panties gripped in her hand looking for the culprit that had nailed her boyfriend in the head with a pair of panties. Obviously the woman was on a war-path as evidence by the grim look of determination and rage that adorned her face. Now, demonica nor sofia would probably be made privy to the girls quest for justice, that was a story for another time. However currently Demonica’s face couldn’t look more confused and also interested about what the girl said about undergarments.

Sure she had worn them before, but that didn’t mean that she was an expert in wearing the more finer types of clothing. For her she had never worn a bra, and had maybe worn briefs or something of that nature when it came to actual clothing. She didn’t actually have a need for it, which was where the problem arose. She’d take the panties from the girl and she had begun to shimmy them slowly from her ankles up her thighs, pulling them even though they obviously had become too taut way too long ago. You see, because demonica used a barrier to keep her body from shredding the clothes, and the ground beneath her she was less sensitive to the minute pressure such a flimsy article of clothing would have against her nigh adamantine skin. It was because of this that the panties would soon tear, the rip echoing through the room as she glanced down and crinkled her nose.

”..So are these supposed to do this?”

There was such a long pause before she finished that sentence that she was obviously confused as to why the article of clothing had torn. Maybe she was wearing it wrong? Demonica paused and grasped another from the pile and then of all things--wore it like a hat. The panties seemed to fit just right over her head, therefore she naturally assumed that maybe this was some womans article of combat clothing that she had been missing out on for so long. Granted the eyeholes where slightly not in the right place, and it felt oddly suffocating. Therefor the soon took it off and stared at the tiny triangular piece of clothing like it was an enigma. In Fact she was feeling quite vexed and frustrated. She was a mighty being, one that was capable of defeating anything, and yet this tiny, insignificant piece of clothing was causing her so much grief?

She growled something intelligible as she looked at it. Obviously at a loss for how she was going to wear them. In fact the mounting anger couldn’t be any more apparent on her face from the concept of being unable to do. It was an affront to her pride that she didn’t know how to wear this stupid piece of clothing. Yet she also was way too proud to admit it, she simply stared at it and kept turning it over in her hand as if by something. . . willing it to she could somehow wear it perfectly. Of course this all in hindsight could be quite funny due to the intensity of the glare she had on this piece of clothing. Like she was some sort of pervert perhaps?

In short though, she’d need quite a bit of help to wear this even remotely correctly.





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