Markus Wright's Story

When the call went out , the sun had just begun its final descent for the evening, dipping partway under the horizon and splashing bands of red, orange and then finally violet across the sky. It had been a warm day, though not uncomfortably so, the first untouched by a series of careless thunderstorms that had darkened The Isle for days. To their chagrin, the charges who had largely been trapped indoors for days had been instructed that morning to remain close to The Compound that had become their home. There had been no lessons today, nothing formal, at least.

Arietta had secluded herself away in the library, taking over an entire table with a score of books. Anyone passing through wouldn’t even draw her attention as she flipped through pages, referencing and cross-referencing several tomes at once. She was making notes in a mixture of Greek and Hebrew, the characters so small that they were barely legible, and still she’d managed to fill three pages by midafternoon.

Simon was not his eminently approachable self. He’d apparently traded out his usual easy jocularity for surliness to rival Matthew’s, and spent most of the day hiding out in the small office where he held his confidential sessions. The Balaren Guardian was as solemn as ever, and shortly after dinner (which none of the Guardians had been present for), he enlisted Fleet and any charges willing to assist him in transporting quite a bit of firewood from the stores to the center of the courtyard, where he proceeded to build what looked to be the beginnings of a massive bonfire, neatly stacking the wood like Lincoln Logs until the resulting cube-like structure was nearly as tall as he was. He was characteristically laconic, only speaking to explain the need for proper draft if the fire was to burn all night, and other such survivalist tidbits.

Only Michaela was unaccounted for. Normally, she popped up periodically throughout the day, but she’d presumably consigned herself to the former officer’s quarters that the Guardians used for their more-and-more frequent, at least of late, meetings.

It had been a strange year by The Isle’s standards, though precious few of the current charges would understand that completely. In the past month alone, more than a half-dozen young men and women who had Awakened to their Bloodline had appeared. Most of them would have at least an idea of the fact that a half-dozen was a large number of charges for The Compound. All told, they numbered more than a score now, a fact which the Evincal would likely feel resonant with portent.

The instant that work on the tower of wood was complete, Fleet whipped his head about to regard Matthew with wide eyes. ”Is it time?!” he asked, his excitement even more vibrant than his usual insane baseline. Matthew merely nodded, and anyone in the immediate vicinity would be buffeted by a blast of breeze as the Wind-Born Navarene seemingly vanished. Most would be by now aware of his ability to become wind, rather than merely affect or create it, and in the form of a zephyr, Fleet raced throughout the grounds to give the call.

”Meeting in the courtyard!” He manifested physically for only just long enough to deliver his message before zipping off to find another young man or woman to inform. He scoured The Compound and the area surrounding it, stirring up leaves and dust in his wake as he flitted about, appearing before groups who had come together to talk, in dorm rooms, in the common area, even in the library and everywhere in between. ”Meeting in the courtyard! Meeting in the courtyard! Meeting in the courtyard!” He didn’t stop until every last soul on the island was aware of the convocation that would soon take place.

By the time the charges had begun filtering into the courtyard, the Guardians had all assembled save for Michaela. Arietta, looking as weary as ever, was seated in the lotus position with her eyes closed, not far from the pyre that Matthew had constructed. Fleet reappeared, frowning when he realized that he’d somehow lost his favored white fedora in his rapid fit of transformation and exclamation. Matthew was leaning to the left of The Compound’s main entrance, his arms crossed over his chest and his features blank. Simon had emerged from his office, and was currently pacing back and forth in front of the officer’s quarters, his agitation more than evident in the form of some low-toned self-muttering.

It was only after each and every one of the young men and women had gathered about the courtyard that Michaela emerged from the officers’ quarters. A simple white cotton dress draped her form, and her bright smile was a beacon of reassurance. She maintained it even when Simon bee-lined for her, and stopped to engage in a terse conversation with him. Their words would go unheard, but there was no mistaking that the exchange was anything but pleasant, if only for the fact that the air around them began to show ripples, reflecting the Omarain Guardian’s agitation in visual form. It was concluded quickly enough. Simon’s expression was even bleaker as he stalked off to lean beside Matthew, who was carefully avoiding making eye contact with the Mori.

Michaela drew a single breath, and in that span regained her composure utterly. The distortions surrounding her ironed themselves out, replaced by a warm aura of soft white light. As she walked directly toward the pyre, illusory flowers, poppies in white and crème and egg-shell sprung up in her wake, creating a path behind her. The trail of flowers followed her, then pooled out around her when she came to a stop, as if she had simply come to stand in the center of a thick patch of them.

”Everyone, gather ‘round please.” She was too dignified to shout, but her voice carried remarkably, reaching every ear and tugging at every mind. It was little more than a simple request, but it was difficult to deny. Arietta tried to catch her eye, and when she did, Michaela shook her head succinctly. The Evincal Guardian just nodded a tired nod and closed her eyes, remaining completely still upon the ground.

”This won’t take very long at all,” she explained, panning her gaze to draw in each of them, address each of them. ”I know you’re all probably wondering why you’re here, in this courtyard, but more than that, why you’re here. On The Isle. With everyone finally settled in, it’s high time that you learn the purpose of this place, one of the world’s last bastions of magic, and your purpose in this place.” She was a perfect admixture of solemnity and wisdom as she began her speech, but she dazzled them with a vibrant grin. ”I also have a surprise for all of you, but that will have to wait till after the end of the story.”








The faerie prince was uncharacteristically alone when the messenger arrived.

Aaron did not normally seek out solitude. Generally, he fled it. He was seldom in his room, save to sleep, change his clothes, and shower, but when he was simply there, he tended to leave his door open, a standing invitation to all the courtiers who had reason to petition him (there had never been an actual petition, of course, but he eagerly awaited the day that the first of many came). Tonight, though, the door stood closed and even locked. His endeavor was a private one, and distractions were the mortal foes of such work- foes that the faerie prince had no defense against save for seclusion.

He’d been at it since just after dinner, though not to great success. The idea, like most of his, had sprung fully formed but elusive from his mind, and he was having difficulty getting his mental hands upon it now that it was free. He already had pen and paper, used for sending missives to his family, which was all he truly needed for the task at hand: to begin to commit to ink on paper the story of the faerie prince. His story.

It was proving a challenge that might ironically be termed princely. Words came easily to him, when speaking, but catching them with the nib of a pen and then sticking them fast to paper was proving an entirely different matter. Thus far, he’d managed after three attempts to arrive at a working title (the appropriate but not particularly inspired Tales of The Faerie Prince), and nothing else worth keeping. He’d tried speaking aloud, saying words and then writing them down afterwards in effort hopes of fooling the fickle Muses into helping him. They were apparently cannier than he’d suspected. He’d tried making lists with bullet points to organize his thoughts, but his thoughts were not made for such a static, rigid template. From the small graveyard of balled up sheets that were now scattered about the floor around and beneath his desk, an observer might have thought him in the midst of penning a novel full, but fortunately, there were no observers to bear witness to the fitful process.

At least, there weren’t until Fleet arrived. His gusty entrance sent the crumpled pages skittering, and Aaron had to lunge, using his forearm to trap the almost-empty expanse of white paper that he’d been staring at intently for the past ten minutes while thinking instead of what Graham might be up to, or if Renn was busy with Erin, or if Milo would like the title he’d come up with, or… well, of anything but the task at hand, really, in order to keep it from flying away from him. Startled and embarrassed (though he’d never admit the latter), he wheeled around in his seat (literally, it had wheels) to face the intruder.

”Meeting in the courtyard!” He heard the call before he saw the speaker.

His wroth fled when he noted it was Fleet. The Navarene Guardian never failed to bring a bright grin to Aaron’s full lips. Lifting a hand to brush down a bit of fitfulness that his spun-gold hair seemed to have engaged in thanks to the miniature localized windstorm that was Fleet, he relaxed in his seat and regarded the man. ”How now, spirit? Whither wander you?” His voice rang out like music, the first part of an exchange that he never failed to encourage. The words had come to mind immediately when he’d first met Fleet, and like most of the words that came into his mind, they had exited soon thereafter through his mouth. Fleet had been confused, but after a few encounters, had begun to respond, creating something of an inside joke between the two that the elemental didn’t quite comprehend but enjoyed nevertheless.

”Sorry Aaron, very busy. Something about a girdle! Gotta go!” With that he was gone, and this time, a somewhat dejected Aaron was unable to stop the first page of his great work from sailing from his desk to under his bed. A meeting, in the courtyard? Only in the messenger’s absence did he process the message. Such an event wasn’t unprecedented, but neither then was it ordinary. Aaron’s affinity for all things out of ordinary abolished his frustrations with the Muses from his mind. He hopped to his feet, arching his back in feline fashion to stretch. He glimpsed himself in the glass (he’d read a story that had referred to mirrors as glasses, which had initially confused him, but now he’d adopted the terminology into his increasingly archaic vocabulary) to ascertain that he was ready for a public appearance.

He was already wearing his favorite shirt, one that he’d found in the cache of spare clothing (a simple white linen peasant’s shirt with billowing sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a great deal of his pale chest), along with a pair of breeches (really, they were simple dark khakis, but he rolled the legs up to his mid-calves and insisted they were breeches). He waxed and waned on wearing shoes and decided that he’d prefer his feet bare. The sound of them slapping the concrete floor of the hallway that led out of the dorm area in a rapid rhythm would announce the faerie prince’s timely departure. It wasn’t quite a run, or a skip, or a dance, but something that sat fixed squarely between the three, as playful, impatient, and amusing to watch as Aaron himself.

He was among the last to arrive, which only meant that he didn’t have time to sort out who he meant to stand with around the bonfire. His violet eyes flitted about, evaluating the prospects, and he started towards Renn, eager to see if the Earth-Born might know what was going on.

”Everyone, gather ‘round, please.”

Michaela’s voice drew his attention to her immediately, in a way that her mastery of illusion never could. The boy was as susceptible to Glamour as anyone, maybe even moreso, and a smile scrawled itself across his features as he simply stopped moving, standing in place to listen. His eyes lit up and did a rather remarkable saucer impression at the revelation that followed her introduction: a story AND a surprise. There were few things that Aaron enjoyed more than either, and he was hard-pressed to decide which he preferred (never mind that he had no idea what the surprise was). Fortunately, he needn’t decide at all; he was getting both!

With story-time looming, he assumed his favorite position for tale-telling; he lowered himself with aplomb into an “Indian” style of sitting, his legs folded up above and beneath one another, and then balanced his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, leaning forward in a show of eagerness for what was to come.

The Smiling Fiend

Markus was sunning himself. Even as the sun started its fall towards the horizon he stubbornly remained, intent on taking in as much sunlight as he could. The thunderstorms of late had taken their toll on his schedule, and the man did not like it at all when his schedule was messed with. But he wasn't about to go out and wander around in the mud with bare feet at night. it still was rather muddy in places, actually. Distastefully so. Markus had discovered that the hard way on his run around the circumference of the compound. In the back the building was uncomfortably close to the cliffs, but it didn't stop Markus. As long as he didn't think about the water below, he could run on, bothered by the danger.

To any onlooker, it was quite obvious that Markus was not a runner. It wasn't his pace or stride, but the way his body moved, slightly stilted, that gave him away. The dark haired man preferred to work on his upper body in the hopes that it would affect his demonic features. Namely his wings. So they'd emerge with some kind of skin or scales covering them, because raw flesh was actually quite painful. And not good for flying. Not good at all.

But as he, along with the rest of the rag-tag bunch of mythical creatures, had been told to stay near the compound, he'd settled for a run outside to let his energy out and enjoy the sun, rather than a trek through the woods. So here he was, barefoot, mud spattered up to his knees, wearing shorts and a paint-spattered T-shirt as he was wont to while out during the day on any kind of expedition outside the compound. He had quite a couple paint splattered T-shirts, because when he was eighteen he'd discovered that spattering things with paint was quite fun. He'd grown out of it, but kept the shirts. They were useful, and they made him feel painterly.

The blue eyed creature made two laps around the compound before the mud really started to irritate him. Time to go inside and clean up then, he supposed. Maybe find a hoodie and a nice wall to laze around in the last fingers of sunlight before heading off into the forest. Usually his wanderings were made in the early parts of the morning, but perhaps he should mix it up a little. See if there was anything interesting in the late night quadrant of the cycle. But he refused to do anything else until the mud was off his legs. Mostly because it was uncomfortable, and his pace was making it start to dry, which doubled the discomfort.

Looking rather windswept, the man trotted back into the compound, intent on his next task, and the one following it. He made it past the shower, successfully, but his plans were altered by the unpleasant arrival of of one crazy Navarene. With a towel around his waist and his hair dripping, Markus was rooting around for something to wear when a gust of wind assailed his back. Markus jumped a good two feet in the air, hissing with annoyance, his body tensed. Oh, it was just Fleet, shouting something inane. The man had disappeared before Markus had really registered whatever it was that he'd shouted. Meeting in the courtyard? Well, there went his evening. Perhaps it was something interesting, perhaps not. Either way, Markus would find something interesting to occupy himself with. Perhaps Erin. She was always good fun to poke at. He didn't know what kind of mood she was in today, he'd kept to himself on his pleasant day off, but which ever it was, she was always great fun.

Or perhaps he could see what Nila had planned, or talk to Tabby, the curious little bird. Or he could set his sights randomly and go from there. He needed to do more on that front, he knew, if he ever wanted to get anywhere. But there were just so many people. And he hadn't gauged the potency of many of them yet. Only time would make clear who would need what kind of push and when. And then the fun would begin.

Markus pulled on a random shirt and pants, then grabbed his jacket. He'd found it among the mass of clothing in the store of replacements the Isle had, and decided immediately that he wanted it. For expeditions where he did not want to be cold, and during colder days when the sun had forsaken the island, it was perfect. It was very dark in color, alternating between looking black and dark brown, and it came down to about his knees. And it was very warm.

Before he left, Markus attacked his head with a towel, getting most of the sodden wetness out. His face and the back of his neck would be cold if they were out for too long though, thanks to the dampness. Then he trotted out of the barracks to the courtyard. He knew the interior of the buildings rather well, thanks to the nightly wanderings of his, and it was simple to escape the confines of the building and emerge in the courtyard. He shook his head, restoring some sense of normalcy to his hair. Hopefully it didn't look too bad. Slightly ruffled though. That gave him a slightly bewildered countenance, as if he'd just woken up and had no clue what was going on. But in all honestly, he didn't really care what was going on.

A good half of the students were there by the time he arrived, and Markus stood uninterestedly in the back. he watched lazily as Michaela strolled forward, flowers springing up in her wake. Markus thought that it actually looked quite foolish. But then again, he wasn't a big fan of flowers. They were nice and all, but really. Having them follow one around didn't seem like a nice thing at all. Quite annoying, actually. But hey, she could do whatever she wanted. He wasn't going to stop her. His attention was forcefully pulled from his inane musings by her next words. He was quite aware of what she was doing, but there was nothing he could do about it but put up with it.

The thought of a surprise wasn't the most pleasant thought, Markus decided. Especially when it had to do with this place. This kind of surprise sounded like the kind of surprise one experiences when he puts his foot in his shoe to discover it full of soup. A mixture of annoyance, displeasure, and that special little WTF feeling. (And the reason he didn't like wearing shoes.) But the only way to find out would be to wait and see.

The man clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward on his toes a bit to amuse himself. She'd said that it wouldn't be long, so hopefully he'd have time for a bit of a laze before going out. So long as the surprise wasn't something as terrible as misplaced soup, that was.

The darker gray colour connected with the slightly brighter one, gradually creating shadows on her painting. It had yet to take up a specific shape or even idea. Erin usually let her fingers do the walking and watched as a dark, yet beautiful image came to life on her canvas. Her breathing had finally evened itself out, now moving in a steady, controlled rhythm. Her face was expressionless, her eyes emerald and almost glowing in the darkness of her room. She had the curtains drawn, and only a little lamp on her desk was illuminating the room. She preferred it that way… today at least; keeping herself secluded and distant from everyone around her. Too much light brought the uneasiness back. So far she had spent three hours fighting the dark part of her so furiously shouting for her to let it go, clawing at her control. She closed her eyes briefly, a gust of air leaving her lips, which currently were painted dark red. It was just one of those days. The horrible, dark days. Days where she stayed away from Daniel in particular, but also even Renn. The two men were getting close and she knew that they were the reason her inner darkness was so eager to take over. She could feel its need to kill them; to remove them as the obstacles they were.

As it was, Erin had woken up, drenched in sweat after a dark, bloody nightmare. She had, as usual, been standing by that huge fall of fire, hearing cries from the other side of his; cries for help. They needed her to release them, begged her to take away their pain. They were demons, she knew that, and she had grown to stop caring about the screams. Of course the young woman had never been one for empathy, but they had still touched her at first. The fire wasn’t unusual, but the black-eyed copy of herself next to her was – she only came when Erin began caring about someone again. It was a warning. She opened her eyes, glancing at the tiny lamp. That little ray of light. Her lips quirked up into a wry smile as she thought of the irony – turn off that light and you’re left in complete darkness; that bit of light was really all Erin had left. If these people died, so would her last bit of light and she’d be swallowed by the darkness. She took a deep breath, glancing at the black kitten half-sleeping on her bed. “Maybe I should just give in,” she mused, looking at the kitten. Irayah lifted her head lazily, her words sounding so clearly in Erin’s head, ”that’s what I keep telling you.” She was exasperated, and Erin frowned at her, wondering for the hundredth time why she still kept the damn thing around.

Then she shook her head, about to return to her painting when Irayah cried out, a loud sound, startling the female Mori. She wheeled around, sighing when she caught sight of Fleet. That’s all she did though before the Navarene had disappeared again, his words only just having reached her ears. She turned her eye towards the roof, almost as if praying for divine intervention. Of course, however, she would never do that. She didn’t really have an appreciation for religion, for obvious reasons. Irayah had moved into a standing position on the bed, ”Are you going then?” She asked, her voice a little eager. Oh yes, she sociable demon kitten. How quaint. Erin glanced at the cat before taking a look at herself in the mirror, making a face. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, you know.” She couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of her voice. She shook her head; she was only wearing a long, white paint-splattered shirt over a pair of old jeans. She wasn’t going out in that. It didn’t bother her that others saw her in it, but she didn’t walk outside her room in it. Just a weird quirk, she supposed. The kitten snorted. ”If you walk out there sulking like that, pretty boy’s going to approach you, and you know it.”

She glared at the demon and her nickname for Daniel, before quickly dressing in this. She shook her head, letting her hair fall free as usual, her panda-eyes in place along with the dark red gloss on her lips. She looked at the demon kitten. “Are you coming, or do you have more to comment on?” The black creature jumped onto her shoulder, getting comfortable. ”You look like a mean slut,” she then said, an appraising tone in her voice. Only Irayah would ever consider that a compliment. Erin rolled her eyes and for the first time today, ventured outside. She blinked at the light, but soon got used to the brightness. What did these people want from her this time? Meeting in the courtyard. She was beginning to wonder what it was about, pondering in her mind silently while her heels clicked on the floors of the compound on her way to the courtyard, her plan clear in her mind. 1: go to the courtyard to see what the guardians want, 2: go back to her own room to sulk some more, 3: argue with Irayah about the attention she was sure to procure herself today, and finally, 4: go to bed and forget about this entire, horrid day.

The blonde made it outside, wincing inside at the sight of the many people gathered. She’d known she’d be late, but then again… she always was. Fortunately nothing seemed to have happened yet. Her face impassive, her eyes cold and distant, Erin made her way down to the back of the crowd, away from anyone who might approach her when she wanted solitude. Then again… Graham or Markus might just calm down the clawing her darkness was currently doing. Sometimes she wanted to scream at it to leave her alone. Speaking of Markus, there he was. Her eyes grazed him for a second before leaving him again. Such an odd thing, this pull she felt towards him – she knew it was due to the darkness, but it was still incredibly irritating. She stood by herself, not really looking at anyone, yet looking everywhere - noticing Daniel by Seph and Sinry, something that calmed her a little, knowing he had no time to notice her -, with her characteristic seemingly innocent black kitten on her shoulder. For once the thing remained quiet. Both their heads snapped up when Michaela spoke, however. Erin frowned, feeling Irayah’s unease. The demon didn’t like light magic. In fact, she only held any love for Mori magic. Demon pride and all.

Both demon and owner stood still, listening to the guardian’s words. Erin rolled her eyes. Great. It seemed she’d have to spend an awful lot of time here, when all she wanted to do was leave. Stories and surprises? None of these things could be said to be Erin’s favorites, in any way. She noticed others wore eager expressions and she sighed softly. These things were the reasons she sometimes just wanted to leave the Isle. These amazingly long, incredibly boring gatherings and the fact that some people actually liked them. Maybe her mood was just sour, or maybe she actually did despise these things. Really, she didn’t ponder it mainly because she didn’t care. Right now she thought what she did, and it wasn’t going to change. Still expressionless, however, the Mori watched the guardians, kitten on her shoulder a little tense. She didn’t like it when Irayah grew tense; the demon had an almost uncanny intuition.

the fool

Milo had been sleeping quite happily under a tree all day. He'd meant to come out here to read up on his powers, learn more about Restoration, all that other mumbo jumbo. He'd gotten about three pages in before flopping the book aside and "resting his eyes for just a moment". In fact, he had no idea there was a meeting going on at all. Fleet had of course come to get him, telling him all about the meeting in the courtyard. Milo had sat up, nodded to him, told him he'd be there, and promptly dozed off again. If you asked him if the exchange had ever happened, Milo would tell you no. He could never remember the things that happened when someone attempted to wake him up. Luckily, only a few minutes later, he awoke to a sudden gust of wind and had sleepily plucked himself off the ground, rubbing the corners of his eyes and yawning. "Mmm," he'd hummed as he patted his skinny little butt. It had fallen asleep.

Without purpose or aim, he began to wandering around until he'd only kind of stumbled upon the meeting by chance. He was a lucky kid. He got out of most of his trouble by subtle accidents like these. Seeing the huge congregation of people, he assumed something must have been happening, so he approached in his slow, steady, lackadaisical pace. His eyes flashed around everyone there, deciding who to affront, before he saw Aaron and Seph sitting down already. "Sweet," he mumured, happy that he had friends he could sit next to, though he didn't even note all the other people who crowded around them, too. Smacking his lips and still trying to rid the sleepiness from his being, he slowly crouched down next to them on his haunches, nodding in their direction as a friendly greeting. He began to contemplate moths. Were they the same as butterflies, only uglier? Did they start as catepillars? Did they go into coccoons? Could they bite-

Then Michaela's beautiful voice was ringing in his ear, and his attention was, for once, directed towards one specific thing. ”I know you’re all probably wondering why you’re here, in this courtyard," that much he could say he agreed with for certain, seeing as how he had just sort of found this congregation, "but more than that, why you’re here. On The Isle. With everyone finally settled in, it’s high time that you learn the purpose of this place, one of the world’s last bastions of magic, and your purpose in this place.” she had said. Milo looked around at the other people gingerly, looking lost and confused. Is that something people were worried about? Did anyone actually care about that kind of stuff? Based on the intense gazes and curt nods, he guessed that was, in fact, a thing. Huh. He plopped down onto his butt and curled his arms around his legs, placing his chin atop his knees.

---

THE PRINCE UNCROWNED

Elvis was writing, cooped up in his top bunk bed and scribbling furiously onto paper, hunched over, hair messy, one sock off. Elvis did this a lot, but no one was aware of this fact. Not a single soul on the Isle had seen this side of the fae blooded boy - the side that had vanquished mostly all of his well-tuned control. If someone were around, certainly he'd be poised and refined, and his sock would still very much so be on. He did this routine everyday, going out and acting as Elvis did, telling tall tales and spouting out erroneous compliments, before he'd eventurally have to go back to his room and recharge. The only time he told the truth was when he wrote. Metaphors spilled from his pen onto parchment, and he felt a little piece of him go back normal. He wrote almost as a way to prove that he existed- to show that despite all his pretending, he was still his own being.

Elvis wasn't shy about publishing his work. He had no qualms about sharing it once it'd been edited and presentable. But he didn't think he could ever trust another person enough to let them watch him as he wrote. That said, when Fleet appeared before him, hollering about a meeting in the courtyard, he practically spit venom at him. He didn't even dignify the man with an answer, only scowling and curtly nodding his response. After stashing his journal under his pillow, in one move, he swung from the top of the bed and landed the several feet below with ease. He pawed through his hair, spritzed on some deodarant, rolled on a sock and put on his shoes. Then he was out the door and on his way to the courtyard.

He got there relatively early, and sighed a deep, heavy, unamused sigh. This had better be worth it. He coudln't think of a single thing they could say to him that they hadn't said time and time again in the past three months. His gaze pricked through the crowd, searching for anything remotely interesting to toy with, and was left empty handed. No one seemed, at this particular interest, to catch his attention. "How boring," he thought to himself with another heavy sigh, pocketing his hands and glancing at his peers with distaste. Normally he would have had a field day with these people, but when he was just out of writing mode, he had a hard time getting out of it. Then Markus appeared, looking damp and uninterested. The smallest of smirks trailed its way onto his face, glad that in the moment he had arrived, so had someone interesting. He slunk over to where the other man stood, and said nothing - no hello, or "how are you?" - merely co-existing next to him during the presentation. When Michaela began to talk, her charms blasting at the students, Elvis turned to Markus and murmured wryly "Damn faeries and their glitter." referring to all the pizzazz Michaela was currently shoveling down her student's throats. The flowers were a nice touch. He found himself scoffing at the show, though somewhat amused by Michaela's way of manipulating those around her while still seeming like the sugar plum princess. Still, he was interested and listening to what she had to say. His intrigue had been especially piqued by the promise of a surprise. He loved a good surprise. Hopefully it was something catastrophic.

"Boop doop de boopen boopy doopers," Something sang to herself softly while she ate. A bowl, really more of a serving bowl than something meant for someone to eat from, was guarded between her crossed legs on the ground, filled with noodles. She was eating generously using chopsticks--a method she had picked up in middle school as a desperate attempt to seem cultured at the time.

She was using little to no grace at all as she shoveled the food into her already full mouth, slurping sounds bordering on obscene. Appearance overall...unkempt, Something's short hair stuck up every which way, and her oversized shirt (not to mention bad manners) made her look like a little naughty boy.

But there was no one in the room with her, why should she care? And she didn't. The continued to eat, mouth moving enthusiastically, while her eyes drooped, half-lidded boredom or sleepiness or both dominating her fac--a burst of sudden air that sent Something's already unkempt hair straight back (perhaps if she washed it more it wouldn't act like this--) and Fleet was in her room. Something's face had transformed, from a face of gluttonous apathy to a face where the roundness of her eyes competed with the roundness of her full cheeks.

"Meeting in the courtyard!" Fleet had shouted, eyes wide, boring into Something's own in a vivid and intense moment that was sure to burst at any moment into wild excitement or horror on both parts. Something's mouth was unattractively full, so a real response would have been difficult, but she managed a muffled "Hmmm!" and a grin which caused a few less-secured noodles to fall onto her chin.

And with that truly unsatisfactory answer, no way at all appropriate for addressing her Guardian, Fleet was gone. And Something's face fell into something of teenaged despair, falling onto her back, arms outstretched as far as they could go (as if she were saying 'THIS IS THE SIZE OF MY ANGST. THIS RIGHT HERE. IT IS THIS BIG.), chewing much like an angry cow might.

"So embawassing," she mumbled through the noodles.

BUT! She did not dwell on her mistakes of the past! No, she inhaled her mouthful of noodles, without even a chew, her digestive system would thank her later, and whirlwinded around her room. She pulled on a more acceptable shirt and zipup hoodie, and she traded the sweatpants for jeans that were just a bit too big on her, giving her mom-butt, though no one had ever stopped to tell her so. Brushing her teeth (because she hadn't all day yet) in two or three swift and vigorous motions across their surface which was more like self-mutilation than hygiene, she rushed to the mirror. She patted her hair down a bit. It still stuck out a bit like straw, but at least she didn't look wind-swept anymore. She pulled on a pair of hiking boots that she never truly understood why she had since she had never been hiking anndd she was off: she took off out of her room, making sure to snatch up her backpack on the way out, and sprinted down the hallway at full speed, unzipped jacket streaming behind her, the closest feeling she'd ever get to having the flowing hair she'd never have. She reached the end of the hall before she heard her door properly slam itself close from it's own weight.

She was just about there when a horrifying though struck her, causing her to stop so suddenly she had to hop skid a few steps to keep from toppling over. She hadn't seen anybody else making as much haste as she...she was acting weird. Making tiny fists of fury and cursing her enthusiasm, not bothering to hide her attempts to check who had seen and instead wildly careening her head every which way for people, before she then continued on at a very leisurely pace.

Cautiously entering the courtyard, she took note of everybody present, lip clenched tightly between her teeth. Anxiety. She could potentially just stand alone. There was no shame in that, was there? And just when she resolved to do just that, she saw two people that she was almost certain were her friends. Internally writhing in joy but externally 100% cool and casual, she padded her way over.

It wasn't that she had extensive interaction with Markus and Elvis. But it was enough in Something's mind to justify standing next to them for the meeting. Or between them, as she was at that exact moment. She just plunge right into that little nook between them.

Keeping up her cool-cat demeanor, she nodded to each of them. "Hey Presley," indicating Elvis, "Hey Marky Mark," indicating Markus. She was sure they loved the nicknames. It showed she cared. She attempted to imitate their nonchalant way of standing, because there was no doubt, they were coo-oo-ool. She crossed her arms over her chest, slung her weight onto one hip. Slightly. Just slightly.

As the ever-so-lovely Miss Michaela appeared, she couldn't help but immediately get wrapped up in the glamour of it all. The flowers. It was all so perfect.

"Damn faeries and their glitter" she heard Presley growl. She gave an immediate twittering laugh, just in case it was a joke. Taking a few seconds to think it over, she was sure it was a joke. Elvis, himself, was a Omarain, a faerie. He would never mock another for using the same power he more-likely-than-not utilized himself. Sarcasm. Something's mind relaxed.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Like a wonderful, beautiful fairy godmother," she sighed, awaiting the surprise.

Michaela’s grin abated, and she let her eyes slipped closed. As serenity settled into place on her features, dusk truly descended. It was no illusion, no trick of glamour, but it hardly seemed a coincidence that the shadowy terminator was just now creeping over the westernmost of the tumbled-down fort’s walls. Twilight was upon them, and gravely, as the Omarain prepared herself, Matthew pushed himself away from his perch and stalked toward the wood he’d earlier stacked, choosing a path that steered him clear of clumped charges. He used a plain Zippo lighter to ignite a torch, and then thrust it into the tinder and kindling that had been arranged at the base of the soon-to-be-bonfire. Flames caught quickly, streaming smoke into the sky, and hungry fire began to taste the sturdier plinths of wood with flickering tongues. Matthew retreated, his duty discharged, but continued along in a circular path around the courtyard, using his captive flame to light braziers and standing torches that were used to light the fort by night.

As the last of daylight died, Michaela, eyes hidden away as if in repose, began to breathe deeply, rhythmically. Her chest swelled, making her breasts all the more obvious beneath the thin white cotton that veiled them. The fire crackled as it climbed the scaffold made for just that purpose, and then the luminous corona of white light that ensconced her began to spread out in every direction. At first it crept inches, and then feet, until every soul attendant was seemingly bathed in that light as well. Before their eyes, the light would seem to congeal, separating into motes that left impenetrable blackness between them, so dark all that would be visible aside from the pricks of white were their fellow charges and Guardians- each other, and the fire, which continued to burn. So potent was her gift that it might be a moment before some realized they were under the sway of an Omarain illusion, each and every one.

The walls of the erstwhile fortress were drowned in black. The library faded away as well, then the officer’s quarters, then The Compound itself, leaving nothing but endless darkness punctuated with little bits of light. It might be dizzying, or even frightful, to have the entire world as they knew it slip away from them, replaced with what might be the night sky, or the endless depths of space, or something else. Whatever it was or soon would be, the Omarain among them would know better than most how exacting the illusion must have been on Michaela. The other charges too; none of them, not even Renn, would ever have seen her display her power on such a scale before. Even the other Guardians seemed awed to behold it, all save for Simon, who simply folded his arms across his chest and made his face a still mask.

Adrift in blackness, they would hear her voice, but not from her lips. It seemed to come from all around them like the music of the stars that her motes of light were no doubt meant to represent.

”You have learned of your bloodlines, sweet ones, but most of you have been taught little of the ancestors from whom that blood flows. Most of what you have heard you learned away from this sacred place; lies, perversions, bastardizations meant to pollute what was once real magic, to reduce it to simple, commercial entertainment, to sanitize and slay it. Tonight you will learn more.”

The “stars” began to re-order themselves once more. They were legion now, great swarms of light particles in a silent dance with one another. They separated into five distinct-yet-shapeless clouds, leaving vast tracks of void beneath them, and then took their places behind the rough circles that the charges and Guardians described around the growing bonfire.

The largest free-wheeling constellation came to a stop between Michaela and Arietta, nearly between them but set lightyears back. Another settled into place 72 degrees to the first’s left, and another 72 degrees to the left of that, and so on until the five points of a star, or perhaps a pentagram, had been defined in the space around them. Some might have to crane their necks or turn about to see them all, and if they did, they’d note that the specks of light had begun a new dance, one that only lasted until they had taken on a new shape. The largest spread out, thrice as tall as Michaela (for in the illusion, sizes could really only be compared in a relative sense), and then grew even more massive as it unfurled its starry wings. The next separated into the three distinct forms, tall and slender. The next dance around the pentagram yielded two large shapes, one that seemed to walk on four legs and one that walked on two. After that, another large shape, but it was escorted by many smaller ones, and finally, to the right of the first, four distinct shapes of vaguely human size.

Michaela’s voice hummed like a leyline again, and as it did, the masses of stars, the tiny galaxies, would continue their dances, taking more distinct and recognizable shapes.

”The mighty dragons were fire and magic made flesh. They were old when the world was young. Their claws dug rivers, their breath stirred storms, and their battles raised the mountains and scorched the land into deserts. Their ways are mostly lost to us, but we know that they began primordial and will not end until the last Evincal is ended. The last true dragon was named Snowscale; she fled to the deepest reaches of the icy parts of the Earth after men had slain her brothers and sons. When the envoys came she agreed that it was the only way and shed a single frozen tear, the only component needed for the ritual that would make the blood of one strong mortal line draconic evermore.”

The largest shape was fully formed by the time she took a pause. The star-dragon was not a static thing. Its tail stirred through the deep blackness, its wings buffeted cosmic currents, and its head lowered, as if in a courtly bow, toward the circle.

”The envoys were the true fae, creatures either born of dreams or responsible for them. The truth will never be known, for they are all gone now, all sealed away in their own kingdoms to save themselves from the iron and church bells and saucers of cream that men learned were their banes. They were the architects of the Bloodlines, and stole away young men and women from a noble family for the turn of a single moon. They returned with lighter step and faerie blood and Omarain children in their wombs. The fae did not return, though. They locked the gate and melted down the key, consigning themselves forever more to dreams, until men are gone and their dreams with them.”

The three slender shapes resolved themselves into three fae, tall and willowy, with features that resembled those of humans, but too perfect to be anything but alien. They wore swords and finery of stars, and they too bowed, deep and courtly, toward the charges.

”The children of the moon had lost more and most to humankind. Their domains were the wyld places, untouched until civilization began its inevitable spread. They fought back with tooth and claw, but the advantage of men has always been numbers. The war of attrition dwindled them to almost nothing, but it made them remember that they were half-man themselves. Repentant rather than wroth, they chose a dozen humans and a dozen wolves, calling them The First Pack, and thus the Balaren were born.”

One part of the next set of stars became a dire-wolf so large that a grown man standing would barely reach its shoulders while all four of its paws touched earth. The other became a thing of nightmare, muscle and fur and claws and teeth. Both of the stellar apparitions lifted their head in an eerie, silent howl. The one on two legs declined its head toward the charges, and the one on four bent the knees of its forelegs, a lupine bow. The tale continued.

”The lords of the pit regarded humanity as little more than sustenance, things to be played with. They were the terror born of the darkness, the evil things that stalked the night, but they too were offered the chance to bind their fate more meaningfully to the races of men. Most balked or laughed, but one wise pit-lord agreed, abandoning the council of his enemy-brethren and infusing the most cunning and dangerous mortals he could find with his hellfire blood. The Mori would need his strength and their own as the centuries stretched into millennia, for there are cracks in the prison that was forged for demonkind.”

The demon lord that resulted of the dancing stars was nearly as tall as the dragon, powerfully muscled, with cloven hooves and a supple tail. In one hand he held a whip, and in the other a sword that glowed with starfire. He did not bow, but instead regarded the charges coldly with eyes made black by lack of stars.

”The spirits of nature only revealed themselves truly for the first time in the course of a single evening. They had always been there, perhaps for even longer than dragonkind, though it is not for me to say which came first, fire or dragon. They had sought harmony with men and beast alike, but men were too clever by far. Rather than being content with the gifts of the elementals, they found ways to trap them and bend them to their will without ever knowing the pain they caused. Still the elemental ones sought harmony, and bonded with a people who had never once enslaved them willingly that the Navarene might one day bring about the balance that was lost.”

The final four became fire, water, wind, and earth. Their shapes were vaguely human at best. Fire was the brightest, a burning crucible of stars. Water’s shape ebbed and flowed. The stars that formed Wind raced ‘round one another in vortices. Earth was more solid, compact and strong. As one, the joined what might pass for hands and bowed deeply.

In silence save for the crackling of the bonfire, the darkness receded, returning control of their senses to those assembled. The constellations remained, though, like an afterimage, and in the last light of dusk could be seen briefly in all their glory before they too faded. Snowscale’s armoring was gleaming alabaster, her eyes brimming with sorrow and intellect. The finery of the fae stole every color of the rainbow, and their skin was pale and far too smooth. The standing wolf had fur that was black as coal and eyes like slivers of the moon; its companion on all fours had fur of mottled gray and brown, and it was laying with its belly against the grass. The demon stood tall still, its skin burnished and rough looking, its features sinister but proud, its whip and sword forged of hellfire. The nature spirits were all the colors that they should have been, flickering or flowing or blowing or standing stalwart.

And then, they were all simply gone. The courtyard was restored to reality, and anyone who chanced to look upon Michaela would see her looking very tired, and very, very old. She drew a single breath, and in that span was young and beautiful again. She managed a smile, the weariness of which would match Arietta on her worst day. The Omarain spoke again, only just audible above the feast of flames gnawing at the wood.

”Humans are forgetting their magic.” She opened her vibrant eyes again, and let her gaze pan once more along the circle of charges and Guardians alike, Omarain and Evincal and Mori and Balaren and Navarene. ”It is the natural state of all things, even men. Remember childhood, when all the world seemed new and bright and exciting? When imagination weaved spells all its own upon you? Man has been squandering his magic, though. It is not enough for him to lift a stick from the ground and make it, just by thought, into a cane, or shelter, or a pretend-sword. Now he must cut the tree open and count the rings, must abolish every secret of nature in the name of Progress.”

Her survey of them all was done. She brought her hands together, clasping them in front of her with a gentle clap. ”There is hope for magic though. It is here, not around you, but in you. It is you. History cannot reveal a time when so many have Awakened to their blood at once, been found and brought together. Such things happened once; they were called Convocations, and the Bloodlines would meet and squabble and boast and the world continued to suffer for their arrogance. They had forgotten, but we must not forget.”

She spread her hands, as if to gather all of them in her arms. ”We must come together, not ignoring each other’s differences but embracing them. The days ahead will be different than the days behind. We have lapsed, in order to bring you all here safe and whole, but on the morrow, we begin in earnest to help you become what you must. I know to some of you, this sounds fanciful, but think of what you have learned to do already, what you have seen your fellows do. On the morrow, we begin in earnest…”

With a flick of her wrist, she sent something that glittered as it flew through the air catching firelight toward Renn: a set of keys. Where she’d hidden them on her pocketless person was anyone’s guess, as was how she’d managed to produce them, but they were there. ”Tonight, though, we revel.” Her warm smile became a grin. ”Or, I should say, you revel. It would hardly be a party with a bunch of stodgy grown-ups about, would it? Enjoy yourselves. Learn of one another. Relax for one final evening and make merry together…” One of her eyebrows lifted to form a perfect arch, as she continued. ”But try not to overdo it. I meant what I said about the morrow. You won’t want to still be feeling tonight when you awaken.”

Her fellow Guardians were not unaffected by the display; like many charges, most of them were still recovering from both the power of the vision and the strangeness of being made to see what had been so long ago. Simon had already slipped off, possibly in the midst of the presentation. Arietta was smiling softly, her expression cast thoughtful, as she rose to her feet and dusted herself off, preparing to return to the library. Matthew was frowning, but shook his head and stretched out, nodding curtly to anyone who met his eye before he took his wolf shape without a single cry of pain and raced off beyond the walls.

Poor Fleet looked positively a mess, his lower lip jutting out as he directed his attention, eyes wide, toward Michaela. She laughed, and the sound was the tinkling of bells more than it was laughter. ”Sweet Fleet, you are less a stodgy grown-up than many of our charges. Of course you may stay.” The Navarene Guardian let loose a cheer, jumping several feet into the air and then floating back down, as if gravity showed him favor just as the Omarain had. ”I need to find my hat!” he exclaimed before taking off at a run and then dissipating into wind once more.

”Good night,” Michaela called, her smile sweet as she turned to make her way back toward the officers’ quarters. No poppies followed her now; indeed, it seemed that she might have strained herself with the display. With her gone, none but the charges were left around the fire, which was now a roaring blaze.

The night was theirs.








Faerie princes were used to being attended, and so it bothered Aaron not at all when so many valued friends joined him prior to the presentation. Seph was gifted with a warm smile, and absently, his hand. He reached out, taking hers in his in simple, friendly fashion. When Renn’s shadow fell over him, he craned his neck to look up at his most beloved advisor, craning his neck back so far that his smile for the Navarene would essentially be upside-down.

Daniel and Hazel came to sit beside them as well, and Aaron lifted his free hand in a wave to the two, slight and courtly. He said no words, for it seemed a time for silence, though delight danced on his features, almost moving him to an excited greeting when Milo came to crouch at his other side. He grinned at the boy’s bafflement, before his attention was again stolen, this time by the advent of the Western Wind, bringing spring with her as always.

He heard a question, and only then noted that Darcy was among them as well. His brow creased and his eyes hardened just a little when he gleaned distress from her demeanor, but there was no time to find the cause with Michaela drawing them all in. Then Graham was there, so close at hand, and the hand that wasn’t linked with the wolf-born maid came forward to comb fingers through the demon prince’s hair, affectionately and absently, as one might stroke a cat. The realization of who was near cast light on who was not, and he glanced about quickly, finding the others in their small clumps or solitude. He had no hands to wave with, so instead, he fought back the falling dusk with a dazzling grin.

When Michaela began in earnest, he was still and silent (save for his hand teasing through Graham’s soft locks and the slight rise and fall of his chest), captivated. Snakes might be immune to their own venom, but the fae-blooded were far from immune to Glamour. Aaron in particular was more inclined to fall under its sway than most, his resistances stripped bare in the course of embracing what he could of the fae so eagerly. As her words and phantasms enfolded them, even his hand grew restive, to slowly slide from the Mori and into his lap; his hold on Seph remained, but slackened. It was eerie, that darkness. Unreal. Even though there was still earth as firm and sturdy as Renn beneath him, he could almost feel himself floating through it, the persistent whisper of vertigo in his ear.

The swarms of stars brought movement, his head whipping this way and that to mark them and track their progress while their leader described to them their forebears, codified the images that had been dancing through his head. The fae he knew of well, but he knew little of the dragons, the demons, the spirit-folk, the wolves. They all had their secrets, that was the way of it, but Michaela had elected to lay some of them bare in a fantastic showing.

He wanted to weep when it was done, when the shadows of the fae had faded, when stark reality reigned once more. Not so stark, though. Nothing seemed entirely real when limned only by firelight, and he drew comfort from that even as he struggled not to shed a tear. The impact of the presentation on Aaron was obvious; his despair might well have been written on his face in glowing ink. They’re all gone, but we remain, he told himself. A faerie prince must only cry for love.

Fortunately, there was more. In his consternation he had forgotten the surprise! His mind was practically tripping over Michaela’s songbird words until it came at last: a revel. The eldest Omarain was retreating, leaving them to their own devices. He had known parties in his time, everything ranging from the boring but beautiful galas of his parents’ world to the crowded teenage affairs that happened behind closed doors in boarding schools, but never had he enjoyed a party on The Isle, before…

… and the faerie prince hardly needed a pretext to dance. He already had Seph by the hand, and his grip strengthened even as he lashed out with his other for one of Milo’s. ”M’lord,” he spoke, looking left, and then ”M’lady,”, looking right. It was courtesy, plain and simple, but in a show of absurd dexterity he untangled his legs and rose in one fluid bit of worship to the god of movement, drawing them up to stand with him. As he did, the music began. Organ music, oddly enough, to compete with the crackling flames and the murmurs that would no doubt follow Michaela’s departure. It was the only remotely impressive trick of illusion that Aaron had mastered as of yet, to bring music with him wherever he went. Female voices in harmony broke in over the electronic organ, making known the unspoken command of the faerie prince: let the beat control you, let the beat control you…

His Gift was only so strong, though. Artemis, alone across the courtyard after Simon’s departure, would be the only one outside the range of the song, but he might still know what the youth was up to (Aaron often provided soundtracks for their fencing practice to join the clash of foil on foil). Everyone else would hear the song, growing more and more cheerful, infectious as a pox one caught from overeating sweets.

Tethered to Seph and Milo, he kept things simple at the onset, shoulders swaying, head bobbing to the rhythm, arms swinging so that his friends’ would swing as well. He was well aware that neither were dancers, not like him (but then, who was?), but he was content to simply drag them however clumsily they might along with him into the embrace of music and motion. He turned to glance at Graham, his eyebrows providing gesture that his busy hands could not. Up, up, slugabed! they exclaimed, bouncing up toward his hairline. Just you and me, let’s break it down!

Even as simple as he was keeping it for now, there was undeniable Glamour in the performance. His grin, broad and goofy, beckoned any who beheld it to give in to the joyous imperative that the song professed. He just looked to be having so much fun that only an enemy of fun wouldn’t wish to join in. He let loose delighted, musical laughter as he began to sing along, leaning in close to Milo, to Seph, to anyone who came near enough, as if his words were meant only to serenade them.

With song and dance, the revelry was begun. Leave it to a faerie prince to conjure a celebration from the very air.

The Duke of Sighs

The day had been long over for Harvey when he seemed to make his way across the Isle. He had seemed to float about the entirety of the place until he found himself at his usual spot at the outer limits of the courtyard, lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves. He had been here most of the day scanning each person that seemed to come too close to him. He didn't bother trying to make friends because to him friends weren't worth having. Al though, there were a couple that he would be kinder to due to reasons he would never reveal. It seemed like hours had gone by when his pack seemed to have emptied. The life of a chain smoker. He gave the slightest cough, throwing his hair from his eyes. He probably should cut back, but the habit was too far gone to try to conquer with the simple steps. He felt that he'd be in therapy due to the withdrawal from the nicotine.

Deciding the head back to his dorm room as the sun began it's departure down, he heard the sound of Fleet that felt as though it had went straight through him with the sound of words that came together as an invitation more than a command to meet in the courtyard. Realizing it would only take him a couple of steps to me more visible to other's, he decided to take the longer route to head to his dorm to get another pack. He knew that the guardians were all about talking, so he didn't know long it would take for the meeting to come to a stop. He had made his way through the thick of the woods that came out right near the dormitories. Seeing several others heading to the court yard, he took this as the opportunity to make his way in. He had just made it to the first floor when he heard a far door shut. He stepped into the hallway as he watched the Navarene make her way to the courtyard. Sexy as fuck. He bit his lip as he thought about running up behind her and giving that ass a squeeze, but he wasn't that big of a dick.. Or was he?

When he finally went into his room, Harvey grabbed two packs because he knew he'd probably end up spotting Something with some of his own. She was one of the few that he actually had an open relationship with. She had a few friends on her own that always seemed to come up in conversation, but the second the two of them became a group of three or more he split. He couldn't handle the way Something changed into someone else with her other friends. He usually found himself trying to find Markus or Elvis to talk to. Mostly because Elvis was a fellow Omarain and Markus had the backbone to hold a steady conversation. As he had a slight hop in his step, he made sure to grab his leather jacket that he quickly put on to complete the look of a greaser. He thought about applying some gel in his hair to make the look official, but the sarcastic side didn't win over this time. The actually chance of him being late made him a little on edge, so he stuffed the two packs into his pocket and ran towards the courtyard.

Seeing that everybody was in the general area, Harvey found himself right on time as Michaela began speaking. Her words filled the courtyard as if an angel were speaking, and Harvey knew that her powers were on full tilt to hold the attention of everyone in the area. He wanted off the Isle so bad, but listening to the chance of him to master the gift made him think of the option of staying. When she finally stopped and gave them the option to continue the night, Harvey went straight to the small group of the four people he liked most; Something, Markus, and Elvis. He had already lit a fresh cigarette from his newly opened pack when he made it to the three. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" He joked as if anything really happened on the Isle. The words had barely been out a second when the music filled the courtyard. "Fucking Aaron." He let his words linger as he watched the fellow Omarain twirl Seph and Milo around. Harvey's gaze had rested on Seph as a smile filled her face.

Shaking his head, Harvey turned his attention back to the group. "Need a cig?" He held out the pack to Something as he took in a long hit from the cigarette. Even though Harvey was a complete ass at times, he respected those who didn't smoke and didn't like smoke being blown in their face. He would always take a step away from the group he was with to let the smoke carry off into the direction away from the others.

The Smiling Fiend

Markus was just eying Erin concocting a plan of action, when Elvis joined him. Foiled. But hey, Elvis usually proved to be as interesting as Erin was, and required less work. He'd poke Erin later, perhaps. He'd not forget, because she looked particularly sullen today, which was always great fun. There were a few moments of pure co-existing, and then another entity joined them. Something. Markus stopped his rocking slightly back and forth on his feet, his face dropping into a frown for a moment. It melted back into a genial smile as he turned to look at the lass. She'd installed herself right between the two. Marky-mark. Lovely. "'lo, sweetheart." He replied with an empty term of endearment. It was a mandatory element for the charming young man, of course. He made no effort to sound any less Scottish, anyone who knew him well, which was no one on this forsaken island, would know that he only did that when he was annoyed. His accent usually hovered between American and English, mostly because he despised his Scottish family.

Elvis's words brought a smirk to Markus's face. His staccato sound of amusement was lost under the trill of feminine laughter that emerged from their third companion. He had enough control to tolerate her for a short while, but he'd have to make some kind of escape soon if he wanted to keep his sanity. "'ey, don't talk that way," He said to the man, this grin on his face two parts amusements and one part the dangerous madness that hovered in Mark's countenance, usually below notice. " If she catches you, she might charm you ta death."

As he got the words out, the large stack of wood was set alight. Were they going to set things on fire? Markus's interest was piqued at that more than at the thought of whatever surprise Michaela had promised them. But ah, no, no setting things on fire, apparently, the man discovered as the halo of light spread from the fire to the students surrounding it, creeping up and bathing him as well. Markus was of two minds about this. On one hand, he was utterly enthralled by this feat, but on the other, he didn't want to fall to the Omarain's powers. Everything around him faded away but his companions, and the rest of the group, and His eyes swept the darkness, which was peppered by little spots of light. Her voice reverberated around them, and Markus forced himself to be apathetic.

He focused his eyes into the darkness, but he couldn't help but listen, entrapped by interest. When it came to the Mori, he grinned to himself. He looked up at the star-daemon. That was what he wanted to be. That powerful creature, who instilled fear and respect into the hearts of everyone. But for now he was still Marky-mark. Woo-hoo.

Markus paid half attention to the rest of the Guardian's words because he was busy thinking about how someday he'd be a kich-arse daemon. The darkness of the illusion faded, but the imprint of the stars seemingly hovered in his retinas for a few moments before disappearing suddenly. The dark haired man shut his icy eyes for a moment, trying to reorient his vision. The man was quite eager to begin more intensive training, to rise to his full potential.

As the woman finished up her presentation, informing them that they could participate in 'revelry', A word that made him think of Aaron. Harvey trotted over and joined them then, smelling pleasantly of cigarette smoke. Of course. And most every thought of trotting over to mess with Erin had to be stifled. The sounds of music followed Harvey's sardonic words, and Markus looked over. Aaron? Harvey confirmed that idea with a mumbled sentence.

Markus ran a hand though his hair and surveyed the groups. Many people seemed to be stirring themselves into dancing or some such activity. There was no way in hell that he was going to do any of that. Mostly because he was a rather graceless creature. He was strong, but not light on his feet at all. Perhaps he could vanish into the forest at some point. He'd stay and watch for now, but it was more than easy to lose interest in these creatures, especially when he had to play at being polite and charming. for a moment he was like a trapped animal, looking longingly out at the darkness out of the reach of the bonfire, where he could do as he pleased for a few peaceful hours. But then he yawned lazily cocking his head back slightly and letting a bored look wash over his features.

"So much for a good surprise." He murmured with a shrug. At least a moderately annoying surprise was better than a nasty surprise. Somewhat.

Erin wasn’t much for the idea of Glamour. In fact she hated when people decided to take control of her senses and change her perception of things, which was exactly what was going on right now. Faeries and their intrusive manners. Fact was, that as the world began changing around her, Erin wanted to get out of there even more so than she had before. Only this time, it wasn’t to protect others but to maintain control of her own senses. Her features remained impassive, but inside she was incredibly irritated. She still wasn’t sure what Michaela wanted here, or why they all absolutely had to take part in it. She didn’t want to be part of some grand plan – to have some deeper purpose in life. What was she supposed to do, anyway? She could summon, control and banish demons… not very helpful. If anything, her ‘gift’ was to be used for dark purposes. Honestly she was on this Isle to learn to keep her powers turned off when she slept… or something. She was fairly certain that demons slipped through the cracks with the help of her magic, and she didn’t like the thought. That said, she harboured no illusions of ever being anyone’s hero or saviour. In fact, she didn’t want to be.

She glanced down at Irayah, who was arching her back slightly in a hostile manner, her eyes darkening by the second. The demon hated glamour even more than Erin did, but as oppose to the Mori, Irayah didn’t bother putting a lid on it. Anyone looking in their direction would be able to tell that the black kitten on her shoulder, usually calm and collected, was on edge. Fortunately, by now, most people were staring in wonder at what Michaela had created. Erin too lead her eyes wander when Michaela began her tale. She didn’t want to admit it, but the show was rather impressive, and frankly, if she’d been in a better mood, she would’ve been captivated. As it was, she listened, but she couldn’t find her spark of interest for the story. It just wasn’t there as it would have been on other days. Erin removed the little demon from her shoulder and sat down, placing it in her lap. She leaned against the wall of the building behind her and let her gaze rest on the sky, watching the beautiful illustrations accompanying the informative story.

Erin casually ran her hands through dark fur and felt the kitten unwind in her lap. They were both still slightly on edge, but Erin knew Michaela wasn’t a bad person – she just, like all faeries, had trouble comprehending the concept of others maybe wanting to keep their eyesight the way it was supposed to be. She was attentive, though trying to calm down Irayah. The demon was a trouble maker – go figure, and Erin knew she got much worse when she was agitated and she didn’t want the female creature jumping the next person who got on her nerves. Mostly because she’d probably be thrown to the ground somehow and it’d most likely shock her into her natural form, which wouldn’t be the best idea. Maybe she should be more worried about the person who’d end up without a face, but… eh. She wasn’t in the mood. Once Michaela launched into talking about the Mori, Erin wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained. Ah yes… her evil, vile ancestors. Yay. She noticed a grin on Markus’ face and shook her head a little. Typical.

When Michaela finally stopped blabbering, Erin took a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes as her hand, which had been petting the demon cat, stilled in the black fur. She needed to instil some sort of patience in herself if she was going to get through the night. Especially if everyone was going to… uh, revel. If she’d been more expressive, this would have cued her making a face. As it was, Erin merely opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times to welcome reality, and settled for a telling look in Irayah’s direction. The kitten shrugged, obviously completely back at ease now. Fortunately. Then music reached her and she got this incredible urge to hit something, her eyes landing on the most probable cause. Aaron. She liked him… sometimes, but right now he was annoying the crap out of her.

She was about to stand when the black ball of fur jumped out of her lap. Erin frowned, whispering on a sneer, “what are you doing?” Then demon sent her a mischievous look and ran off. Erin sighed, exasperated and moved into a standing position. She pulled down on her already short dress a little – it’d begun inching its way up of course. Meanwhile, the black kitten had made its way over to Elvis, Markus, Harvey and Something. The blonde gritted her teeth as she watched the damn thing purring as it rubbed itself against Markus’ right leg.

She cocked her head to the side, waiting for his reaction. Everyone knew the cat was particularly fond of Markus and Graham, but she hadn’t ever seen her do that before - acting like an actual cat. It was weird. She glanced from person to person in the group, steeling herself. She’d noticed Markus eyeing her a couple of times and she could tell he was up to no good, which she really wasn’t in the mood for. She glared at the cat, the rest of her face impassive. Of course she could command it, but she’d have to speak to it, which she usually tried to avoid. Commands with power made her voice deep, which was quite the attention-drawer. So she settled for heading over there… to recollect the god damned demon and then make her escape as quickly as possible before Daniel noticed her. She wanted him, more than anyone, very far away from her.

Erin began walking over to the group her pet demon had decided to infiltrate, pondering how to properly scold the damn thing… and then how to punish it. Irayah knew exactly what she was doing – forcing Erin to associate with people who promoted her dark side, and she also knew the Mori’s opinion on the matter… especially on bad days. Markus could be fun, and she didn’t particularly mind Harvey or Elvis either. Actually she quite enjoyed Harvey’s company, but not today… today was supposed to be a day for solitude and a lot of painting. Again she wondered why on earth she kept that bloody demon around.

Something's light greeting was met with a "'Lo sweetheart," from Markus, the irritated tone of which she was completely oblivious to. She gave a affable toothless grin, turning her attention to the Omarain beckoning her mind.

So susceptible to the magic, Something felt completely immersed in the vision. It felt so real; she felt so breathless. Eyes wide in an attempt to take it all in at once, mouth lightly agape, each light felt like it was pulling on individual strings in her heart, creating a beautiful symphony of music. Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt she might cry, but alas, she did not. As true as her emotions were, Something was not expressive enough to actually tip into that territory. Instead, she stood there mildly, while her mind went on a journey, twisting turning and suspended in space. It reminded her of New Mexico in a way. If she had taken acid in New Mexico. Which she hadn't had the chance to. She didn't have enough time to get properly acquainted with the desert with before coming out here.

Once it was all said and done, Something felt suspended in the air. Her body was not quite ready to function yet. She felt she had just lived years, experienced and learned so much, in such a short period of time. So when Harvey strolled up, asking whether or not anything interesting had happened, she simply shrugged. "Hmmm..." was her contemplative response, as if she were about to add something insightful, but she never did.

Not before she was immediately distracted by Aaron's music, that is. It surged and swelled. She grabbed the free hand of Elvis and, though he was no help at all, she spun herself in a tiny albeit clumsy circle, gripping the tips of his fingers. So invested in her inconsequential dancing, she (luckily) did not hear the scoffing. She looked hopefully at the three in her group. "I was joking," she grinned. She was terrible at jokes.

Luckily, Harvey tugged at her attention by offering her a cigarette. "Holy shit, sank you so much, monsieur," her French accent almost passable considering she had studied it...kind of...a long time ago. She gave a small curtsy, though it was so small it could have been a stumble. Putting the slender tobacco between her lips, grasping it with her teeth while she placed a cupped hand over the tip, bowing her head while she lit it effortlessly with a snap of her fingers--they were familiar motions to the girl. As if it were all apart of the process of lighting and smoking a cigarette, Something pulled her colorful Navajo inspired backpack to her front, rummaging around for a moment, puffing the little thing clenched between her teeth until she found what she was looking for.

But as she pulled it out, something small enough to fit easily in her hand, she pulled a face and cringed. She glanced up, eyes watering immensely. "I got smoke in my eye," she mumbled her confession.

And with that, she reached out her arm straight, limp wristed, and placed a blueberry in Harvey's hand. In return for the cigarette. Of course.

Before she could witness Harvey's reaction, she noticed a queer little shadow rubbing away at Markus' leg. She made a sound so small and quiet it was like the busting of a bubble or a drop of water falling into a glass. The reaction began immediately, though it was like the slow deflating of a balloon. Something began sinking, slowly sinking to the ground.

She knelt down, bottom hovering just an inch or two off the courtyard cement, with her chin resting gently atop her boney knees.

"Hi kitty," she whispered gently, wrinkling her nose then burying her mouth into her knees. "Hi Erin," she mumbled through the fabric of her jeans, eyes looking neither at the cat or Erin, but glued to the ground immediately in front of her.

THE PRINCE UNCROWNED

Something had shimmied over to them, trying too hard at nonchallance and just generally being as goofy as her human shell would allow her to be, and Elvis found himself wondering if this... this thing before him was at all manufacuterd, or if this creature could genuinely be as hopelessly oblivious as she was. She lacked all social graces- approaching the least friendly, wedging herself rudely between them without the blink of an eye. But the most peculiar of all was that you could see the cogs turning in her head- Elvis could visually, actually see these absurd thoughts buzz inside her mind. He'd never met a person so painfully open to read, and yet, her ignorance made her almost... almost difficult to manipulate, in a really weird way. She didn't catch onto subtler things.

Presley.

Of fucking course. It's not like he hadn't spent his entire childhood swallowing that name every damn time- every god damn time any hokey adult thought they'd be cute or smart or clever. Oh, fuck Elvis Presley. It was an ongoing joke that had run by his entire life and, needless to say, that shit was old- was old before it could ever have a chance to call itself new. He'd learned to despise even the man himself- Christmas time was torture because for some reason everyone thought holiday cheeriness and the rock legend were synonymous.

"Hey, that's cute. Did you come up with that yourself?" Elvis said easily, never missing a beat. His smile was natural on his face, his feigned surprise seemingly sincere. There was no falter- no indication of his lie. It was seamless. Naturally, it would be. It was such a simple one to tell.

Elvis merely snorted in response to both Markus and Something's reply to his sarcastic mostly-truthful bashing of fairy gaudiness. Something had commented on Michaela's loveliness- which he noted with a half hearted nod- while Markus had snarked back a warning. A semi-satisfied grin appeared on his face just at the sound of his accent. If he was right, and he was usually right about these sorts of things (he was a person-reading-extraordinaire-genius-fairy-boy, after all) the bearded man didn't usually have the endearing dialect.

As soon as Michaela began speaking, Elvis was gone- completely abducted into the world she weaved. He loved her illusions- or rather, envied them- and spent every passing second absorbing the power of it all. Such a command on glamour left him with both a sour feeling of bitterness and a sweet hope for his future. He was determined to become just as great. His admiration quickly transformed into absolute horror as soon as the festivities had begun, however. "No." he groaned in his own mind. He was transfixed on staring with disdain as Aaron- who he didn't dislike, for the record- began to trot about with his little enthusiastic tagalongs.

He was trapped in a pigeon hole, barely even noticing as Something grabbed his hand and spun her tiny little body underneath his towering one, his eyes still fixed on all the fun before him like it was noxious gas seeping closer and closer. "Oh no. No, no, no. I dont do parties unless hard liquor is involved." he stated while staring into the distance, his english accent peppered thick into his words. He felt the dread seeping into his bones. Suddenly, it was as if he was ripped out of his reverie and had just remembered other people existed. He whipped his head down to stare blankly at Something, then noted that Harvey had joined the group. The smell of cigarette smoke filtered pleasantly into his senses. He automatically breathed the scent in, feeling soothed just by that.

"Fucking Aaron." He'd said, and to this, Elvis barked out a real, genuine laugh- not that stuff that he faked (though it sounded just about the same). That was precisely the incentive he had thought. He offered Something a cigarette and Elvis had to stop himself from face palming so hard that his head would fly into outerspace, because the little ginger pixie had, no shit, given him a single blueberry in exchange.

There wasn't time to dwell because then Erin had practically clomped over like an undead nightmare due to the fact that her little pet had infiltrated their group. He wrinkled his lip at the demon masked as a little cat and clicked his teeth, not nearly as impressed as his counterparts.

"Mmmm, I'm allergic." he stated, eyeing the little fur ball, not too crass but rather precarious in tone nonetheless. This group was becoming a bit of a mess, he noted. Each one of them required a different type of charm to be most effective, so he found himself uncharacteristically quiet and really, really, really wishing he were somewhere else. Or, not exactly that. Just... just perhaps that alcohol comment was a better idea that he'd made it out to be. He wondered if it'd take much persuasion to get a real-life-actual-adult kind of party kicked, one with a little less merriment and a little more disaster. The type that you could remember the next day and regret. Not for him, of course. He just liked getting dirt on others, really.

"I'm going to see if I can get this party started." he stated before, simple as that, leaving the group. He'd spotted Vendicare standing all by his lonesome self, making little puppy dog eyes even when he didn't meant to. Elvis approached him easily, stuffing his hands in the pocket.

"'Ello, Vendi" he said simply, just a hint of mischievousness twinkling in his eyes. "Fancy the show?" He asked, almost sardonically, but he really was genuinely interested in what this cryptic man had to think of the parade.

The Smiling Fiend

Markus stared at Something for a moment as she, a light hanging from her lips, dropped a blueberry into Harvey's hand. Okay, he was out of here. As he moved to dart away, to disappear into the forest before he lost his sanity to these people, a dark shape rubbed itself against his leg. Irayah. Something sank to the ground to say hello to the cat while Markus shot a look over at Erin, who was making his way towards him to fetch her kitty. He grinned, but it fell off his face as Danny-boy intercepted her. Well, she'd still have to come get her cat, he could be patient.

Markus reached down to scratch the little black creature behind the ear. Elvis made his leave, announcing that he was allergic to cats. Another statement followed the first, about getting the party started. Which most likely meant that alcohol would be procured. "Have fun." Markus called after him, his voice lazy. He shot another glance at Erin, who was still talking to Daniel. He seemed amused. Markus frowned with annoyance, and lifted the black cat up off the ground, holding her carefully as he scratched under her chin. "Hello there," He said in the voice he affected while talking to things that couldn't respond. "Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite being on the island?" He told the cat as he watched Erin conclude her talk with Danny-boy and continue over. He had guesses about what the little feline was, but he wasn't entirely sure. He liked to think that Irayah had lured her master over on purpose though.

The blue eyed Mori grinned as he helped close the gap, setting the cat down so she could go back to Erin if she wished. "Lo, love." He looked her up and down, pushing his hands back in his pockets and adopting a lazy stance as he teased her. "I was just telling your kitty here how lovely her owner looks while she's sulking." He withdrew a hand from the warmth of his pocket for a moment to run it through his hair, which was still quite damp. It had just began to draw back up into it's normal mess of haphazard waves and slight curls which bothered Markus a bit. especially because the back of his neck was growing cold. Perhaps he should have stood nearer to the fire.

"What did Danny-boy have to say?" Markus adopted a sneer as his eyes pinpointed the other man for a moment. He adopted a stupid sounding voice that was supposed to be Daniel's, despite the fact that it sounded nothing like him. "'Look out, Markus is stealing your cat so he can turn you evil.'" It was no hidden fact that Markus despised Daniel. Perhaps part of his hatred was due to paranoia, he really did see the other Mori as a threat to himself, and to Erin as well. A distraction to pull him from his destiny of fully realizing his bloodline. He smirked, rolling his eyes and scanning the group again.

Markus seemed to discard thoughts about Daniel quickly, as he usually did, no need to get all fired up and mad, losing control at the moment wouldn't help him with anything, and he returned to lighthearted poking. "But if you came to ask for a dance, I'm afraid your out of luck. No prancing around like a pansy for me tonight."

His attention was pulled away for a moment by Renn; it really did look as if Elvis had managed to procure some booze. He smirked. He wasn't a drinker himself, but it was quite funny to watch others get smashed. And it made them easier to manipulate and play with. But he didn't want to hang around. he had more interesting things to do, more interesting places to haunt.

"I do think that is my cue to bail this sorry party." He said with an annoyed sigh. Then his face grew into a devilish grin. "Would you like to join me." He pulled his hand from his pocket again and offered it to the young woman before him. Then he shot another longing look into the forest. He didn't often have accompaniment into the forest, but it wasn't unwelcome, especially not Erin's company. Perhaps he could give her another little push in the right direction. Or at least, the right direction in his opinion.

We always have the rhythm here, in our blood and in our souls.

It was an uncomplicated song. Nothing in it called for elaboration, and so the faerie prince needed not do anything more than give in to it. In terms of blazing, his grin rivaled the bonfire as he cavorted with his friends, more and more of them as each bar of catchy, synthesized music went by. He was silly. Even faerie princes could afford to be silly, from time to time. His hips swung to bump up against Milo; releasing him, he lifted his arm and Seph’s up over head and led her through an unrehearsed walk around one another, every footfall conforming to the beat, the beat, the beat, the beat. That brought him near enough to Tally. He’s spotted her running off, and welcomed her back by shimmying towards her, his spine arching backward more and more with each tiny step until he was nearly doubled over. He looped himself underneath his and Seph’s arms before springing upright once more, only to find that his wolf-born dance partner was being stolen away. He didn’t mind at all, not so long as it meant another dancing body, another soul given over to the rhythm.

He busted some moves. That was really the only way to describe it. He was dancing with anyone and everyone within range, now, or really, more likely, not really dancing with anyone at all. For a while, he did the running man, knees coming up high, legs forming right angles, arms pushing out and then pulling in. Then it was The Twist, his feet pivoting back and forth as his arms swung at his side. He grape-vined his way past Milo when the boy wandered off, a smile of jubilous encouragement bowing his lips, rolling his arms in truly ABBA fashion as he went. There was some cabbage patch, some shuffling. Xylea’s encouragement nearly had him blushing (it was hard to tell, since his blood was pumping hard as a matter of course), and he slowed, never quite stopping, watching as she summoned a flurry of leaves about her and exalted in dance. He spun his way around Tally, hands in the air, and then brought them down again in order to vogue with Artemis and Xylea for a span before he was off again…

Seph was returned to him, and he embraced her in a hug, likely surprising her as he lifted her clear off the ground and twirled twice around before setting her on the ground again, just in time for the first song of the evening to abruptly end. He’d gotten so lost in the music that he’d hardly spared a thought toward choosing the next one.

The faerie prince was gleaming by firelight. The roaring fire warming the air and physical exertion conspired to soak his shirt and skin in sweat. With a flourish, he reached up to wipe his brow and catch his breath, sending a volley of glistening droplets off to splash against the earth.

”My Liege, might I request of thee a dance?”

Was it true or calculated, the way he seemed to have forgotten that Graham was there at all? He whirled to face him, grinning like sin with lips. He could hardly blame the demon prince for botching the style… My Prince or even Your Grace would have been preferable, but being his liege for the span of the next song would suit well enough. He half-bowed in courtly fashion as the slower intro proceeded, letting that be his reply. He slowly extended a hand toward Graham, letting it rise… but just as the beat picked up and the Mori reached for him, he snatched it away, smirking impudently and clasping his hands at the small of his back. Rising to the balls of his feet, he danced forward, using the four bars of energetic beats to circle around poor Graham twice, rising up nearly on point to pirouette perfectly, his right leg kicking out, on every down beat. He came to an abrupt stop directly in front of him, very close, facing him, and then took a single sliding step backwards as the vocals came in.

In what followed, Graham would be less a partner than a prop. The Mori was transformed into the anonymous “you” that the song spoke of, but in truth, Aaron would have been served equally well had his friend been born a sturdy pole on a raised stage instead of infernal royalty. This display was a far cry from his earlier enjoyment. Aaron’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth a sultry curl. Every movement was enticing or enticed, as if lust itself had been clad in sweat-kissed flesh and set to prance about.



He twined their arms around himself, cutting out his singing as the chorus began. For its duration of, he was doing little more than swaying and grinding against his counterpart, eyes closed serenely but his lips still set in sexy bit of pout. His form undulated, sinuously rubbing against the taller boy’s. This Glamour was… different. Probably more uncomfortable to experience than the bubbly cheer he’d been strewing about before. It might not have made the other charges want him (though it certainly could), but it would very definitely make them feel the acute sting of want. Flushed and still sweating, he let himself be enfolded in Graham’s arms, forced them to enfold him, luxuriated in the almost obscene heat of their bodies pressed together, back to front, not a stone’s throw from the bonfire.

He’d somehow turned them around in the process, though, so that they were facing the cadre of hold-outs and booze-fetchers. His eyes snapped open, and a devious grin took his lips. Expressive as always, Aaron’s features communicated something very clearly: there’s still half a song left; give in to it, or you’ll leave me no choice.

Erin inwardly groaned in frustration when Daniel cut into her path. Why did he insist on making her life so very, very complicated? She needed him to stay away for, love of kittens. Why could he not get that through his thick skull? Only when he was in front of her, did she stop. She considered merely walking around him to avoid even looking at him. She had to keep the darkness away, and Daniel only made its persistent howling worse as it sensed a threat. She had to make it shut the fuck up or she’d go absolutely ballistic. "Hey there Erin. Nice to see you." He said, cheerfully… cheerfully. Yes, Daniel was being… cheerful. He couldn’t have chosen a worse day. She’d take Markus’ probing with a smile if it meant she could get away from Daniel’s cheerfulness. Oh, she cared for him – she knew that, and she loved being around him… on her good days. But today was a horrible day and she wanted him far away. She had even told him what happened to people she cared about to try and scare him off, and yet… he was undaunted. She couldn’t figure out if he cared too much, or if he was just plain stupid right now. Probably a mixture of both.

She glared at him, her voice cold as she said, “Daniel, with all due respect. Get lost.” And then he laughed. He. Actually. Laughed. She narrowed her eyes as he blissfully waved and sauntered off. Oh, this was just… she didn’t even have words to describe it. What did she have to do to make this guy realize that she was no good? That he would end up dead, and that she would rather be alone than risk his that? Frankly… what could she do to scare him off, or at least cause him to not want to hang around her? She sighed as realization hit. Daniel had feelings for her he really shouldn’t entertain, and not a lot of things broke through that haze. She knew of one thing that might, however. So as she watched Daniel steal Seph from Aaron, she took a deep breath. She didn’t want to ponder it too much tonight. She knew she’d hurt herself by hurting him, but it was simply the prize she’d have to pay. Rather hurt than dead, she decided. Then she turned back to Markus who was now walking towards her with Irayah in his arms. The cat looked awfully pleased with itself, very comfortable in Markus’ arms. Inwardly cursing the demon once more, the female Mori walked to meet Markus who was grinning, mischief in his eyes.

She hadn’t even been paying attention to what had been going on with the group her kitten had decided to infiltrate, and frankly, she didn’t really care either, but as she looked up she noticed Elvis’ absence. Hmm. She shook her head, looking up at the tall form usually going by Markus, but oftentimes dubbed much less flatteringly, looming over her, his eyes wandering along her body as he greeted her. Eh, men. Then again… she didn’t dress in a way to prevent such looks. She crouched down to retrieve the demon Markus had so kindly placed back onto the ground and couldn’t help a wry smile (the only kind she ever really showed) at his words. Irayah hopped onto her shoulder and the Mori stood back up, the heels of her thigh-high boots fortunately providing her with some height to compensate for the huge gap between her eyes and Markus’. “Yes, I’m sure you were busy gushing like a little school-girl,” she countered with fake pleasantry. Her voice held that touch of malice and sarcasm, telling anyone that she was not being pleasant in any way. Then again… Markus usually gave her tit for tat… or flirted in that very special way of his. Somehow it tended to help improve her mood.

Erin tilted her head a little, the throb in the back of her head slowly resolving due to Markus’ presence. Her body relaxed a little as the clamoring her dark side had been doing all day, steadily growing louder, came to rest. Her dark side, as well as her demon pet, adored Markus. Really, she was certain they’d like all Mori who’d embraced their dark sides and tried to make her do it too, but really… that was only a calculated guess. She’d only met Graham and Markus, of whom Markus was by far the one who had the bigger influence. When Markus made his comments about Daniel, Erin raised an eyebrow at him, the rest of her face remaining impassive. “Yeah, and then he burst into song about it.” She said calmly seemingly serious, safe for the very slight touch of biting sarcasm in her voice. She didn’t like the animosity between Markus and Daniel – it bordered on a pissing contest and it was completely ridiculous. She took the time Markus spent scanning the group, to try and figure out what was going on with her fellow charges right now, noticing that Renn, Elvis and Vendi were carrying boxes of alcohol. Ah hell. She was drawn back to reality when Markus spoke again.

She batted her eyelashes at him, all innocence, “Markus, you always prance around like a pansy, so I believe that’s a moot point.” She didn’t explain why she’d actually come over – he knew that quite well already, he was just trying to get on her nerves right now. The thing was, however, that she was already irritated with Daniel, which made her more pliant with Markus. She wasn’t sneering nearly as much as she could have been, but then again, her biting very badly at Markus were usually reserved for her good days because she hated having him around on those. She didn’t need anything promoting the darkness on her good days. Then Renn was speaking up, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Markus. She should leave; she wanted to be alone right now, but she couldn’t make herself move. The darkness was so blissfully quiet right now and she couldn’t take any more struggling. She’d end up hitting something – probably Aaron. He was not making her day any better with his horrible music, and… speaking of that, here came a new one. Her gaze momentarily went in his direction. He was dancing around Graham and she couldn’t figure out whether it was amusing or nauseating. She was leaning towards nauseating. Some people just didn’t have public boundaries.

Once more, Erin was pulled back by the male Mori before her as he spoke and she nodded absentmindedly. Then she narrowed her eyes, realizing what he’d asked her, and with that smile of pure trouble on his lips, one would be a fool not to grasp the fact that Markus was in fact planning something. She just didn’t know what, but as she began feeling Aaron’s glamour, her narrowed eyes turned into a glare which she directed right at the dancing Omarain, completely ignoring Markus’ offered hand. “Do you feel that?” she murmured thoughtfully, half intending the question for Markus. She hadn’t felt this way in what seemed like ages, and she hadn’t done anything to even warrant it now. Sure, Markus was attractive, but there hadn’t been heavy flirting, nor had there been any touching. Fucking fairy shit. Now she wanted to get out of there more than anything – out of reach of this whole glamour and alcohol deal. Suddenly Markus’ idea sounded much, much more appealing. Besides, she might be able to figure something out in regards of Daniel, while at the same time irritating him right back. Her room wasn’t by any means far enough from here. Her gaze went back to Markus, still not taking his hand. She gave it a look of “seriously?” and then moved it to his eyes. “I’m not holding your hand, you idiot.” She told him.

It was Erin’s form of “yeah, I’ll go with you”, and as good as it was going to get right now. She was still feeling the glamour and it made her very irritable, despite the darkness being quiet. If Markus began walking, Erin merely walked beside him, keeping pace, fuming on the inside while impassive on the outside. She hadn't even noticed that Irayah had remained completely silent on her shoulder.

The Smiling Fiend

Ouch, she was on top of her game tonight, Markus though as she issued the first bullet from his lipstick coated gun. AKA, her mouth. The man grinned a carelessly carnivorous grin as he absorbed the stinging comment. She was a funny little creature, and Markus ate it up. He could tell that she felt more relaxed now from the way she held herself. He promised himself that he'd take advantage of that for whatever mischief he had planned for the night. She had never confided in him, but Markus knew from the way that she gravitated to him sometimes, like he was a painkiller for her sullen mood, that he helped absolve some kind of internal struggle in his little ladybird somehow, for at least a little while. It made him feel quite astute. Even if it wasn't true, Markus wasn't going to let off his conclusion unless she blatantly told him different.

Her next comment made him laugh aloud. That was a clever one. He'd opened himself for that one. He didn't even mind, he'd take her insults. He'd tolerate them and toss back words of his own. It was the reason he liked talking to her so much, the little games of words that made his mind fly and his face curl up with genuine amusement and glee. She was just so funny, in that sour, angry little way.

A few moments before Erin murmured thoughtfully, Markus felt whatever it was as well. It made his lips pull back from his teeth in a sort of grimace, part uncomfortable, part pleasant. It made him want to destroy something, but at the same time he wanted to grab the blonde before him and spirit her off somewhere. Her words pulled him out of it though. He pulled his shoulders back slightly, a shudder running down his spine as he composed himself again, his eyes fading black for a fleet second before he took a sharp intake of breath. The feeling stirring inside his skin, the faint pain, was enough to keep the wild Omarain emotion out of his system. He couldn't help but shoot a look over at Aaron though, the first person he though of who might be the perpetrator. Sure enough, the blonde was engaging in some... not entirely child friendly dancing with Graham. He had to pull his blue eyes away from them, back to Erin as she decidedly scorned him again.

"Youch, love, you keep that up and I'll be a pile of ashes by morning." He said lazily, lifting his hand to pat Irayah on the head. He offered another devil-may-care grin as he started up a slow trot in the direction of the forest, where lay sanctuary. She followed, and Markus found his eyes wandering back over to Aaron briefly. The lad's eyes were open now, a mischievous grin stretched across his face. Markus winked at him, then turned back around to continue his trot to the forest. He meant it as an amused gesture, as if to tell the blonde lad to have fun with his...dancing, but considering the fact that he was currently walking with Erin into the forest, it probably didn't seem that way.

"Now, " He preambled, switching his gaze back to his companion, the grin forced off his face, a much more stern look taking precedence. "I shall be prancing..." He paused for a moment to bat his eyes in a mockery of Erin's previous, innocent prelude to her second insult. "...like a pansy over into the forest." His voice grew mockingly patronizing, and the grin came back. "if anyone is afraid of the dark, or the wee little beasties within, speak now, or forever endure Aaron's choice in music and a handful of dancing, drunken idiots for the rest of the night." They were out of the immediate range of the fire now, and the music was so faint it was barely a whisper. His distaste for quote 'dancing, drunken idiots' was quite obvious in his voice. He made no effort to be charming or polite around Erin, but he hardly ever achieved any significant level of pure nastiness around her. She was a pleasant middle zone for him, in his own opinion. Which was still pretty bad on most people's moral scales.

The grass below Markus's bare feet was now less trampled down, and it felt quite pleasant, despite its coldness. And the slight squishy-ness of the earth. He pulled his long dark coat off and slung it over his shoulder, revealing his haphazard choice of t-shirt. It said 'Fuck me, I'm Irish' on it in faded green letters on a lighter green background, a few surly looking shamrocks skulking around near the words. Sixteenth birthday present from an acquaintance. He'd decided that it was close enough to the truth, deeming it fit to wear. To hell with being Scottish, ignorant Americans couldn't tell the difference anyway, it appeared. But he never just wore it around, it was another of those exercising shirts, one of those best worn under a jacket. And without his warm jacket, gooseflesh sprang up on his arms. Oh he did so hate the cold, he mused as he stretched much like a cat.

"Turn down your iciness a lick, lass, I can feel it from all the way over here." He complained teasingly, his voice much more lighthearted now that he was away from that damned music and the threat of dancing, or some other equally tedious form of interaction with the sorry lot. "I can't haunt the forest if I'm frozen through by your sulking."

Daniel noticed Erin leaving with Markus, and he frowned, his power unintentionally heating up the general area around him as his skin temperature rose. Once he realized what was happening, the young man clamped down tightly on his blood once more, feeling the protesting screams of his ancestor as he was unsuccessful in taking control once more. Oh why did he have to have the creator of the Mori Bloodline as his direct descentant? Why did he have to inherit that demon's power over Hellfire? It was a constant source of problems in his life, and he hated his blood for it.

The young Mori sat down on the ground, unknowingly next to Drusa as he contemplated his life till now. Daniel knew the dangers of his blood, however powerful it was. While Hellfire could burn anything, leaving no defense unscarred, it came at a terrible price to his body. Due to his powerful link to the creator of the Mori Bloodline, the Pit Lord was constantly trying to seduce him with power. Trying to torture his mind to give in, to just let go and find peace in oblivion. However, Daniel knew the risks. Pit Lords were and still are physical manifestations of hatred and rage, and promoted all kinds of warfare and destruction in order to create it.

Daniel didn't even realize that Drusa was there until she spoke to him. Looking up, he realized that he was leaning against her, laying on her shoulder as he had been so lost in thought. Quickly apologizing for it, he got up and studied the young woman that had become like a sister to him. She always stunned with the beauty she expressed, and her skill in alchemy was nothing to scoff at either. It was actually what drew Daniel to her to begin with. Being a graduate in Chemistry, he spotted her practicing her art and tried to help. Being quickly pushed away that time, he just remained persistant, wanting to know about the person with such a skill. As time went on, the pair formed a sibling bond, and Daniel enjoyed the time they shared.

Time to fulfill the job of the annoying brother...again. He grinned to himself as he stood and glanced at the group of dancers before reaching down and taking her hands in his own and pulling her up carefully. "Come on Drusa." He smiled to her before pulling her into the group of dancers, the pair immediately caught up in the dance that surrounded them. "How have you been lately? I haven't seen you around in a while Sis." He whispered just loud enough for only her to hear. That name was something that he adopted after a while into their unique friendship. It just seemed to fit, and he enjoyed saying it. The young man had never had a sibling before, so it was exciting, and he reveled in the feeling of someone (however unrelated) being family to him. Daniel honestly missed it quite a lot.

As they continued to dance, he looked around once or twice. The first time he caught Xy's eye. Smiling to her, he mouthed that "We'll talk later" to her before being swept up again. The second time, he noticed both Markus and Erin totally absent. That was something that disturbed him, and his blood loved it. He didn't like that Markus had such a hold on the young woman that had grown so dear to him. Markus, to his mind, had taken the easy path. The path where he just gave in to his blood, and not taken his blood's power for himself. He was weak in that regard, and had no way of knowing true power. Once that second dance ended, he gave Drusa a hug before smiling to her. "Thanks." Speaking softly in his rich baritone voice, the young man patted her hands before moving to rest against a nearby tree. He noted Xy eyeballing him for a brief minute, and idly wondered if she was going to give him one of her customary tackle/hug greetings.

Darcy Lilith Ratri
The Twilit Princess

The turn of events caught Darcy of guard as a majority of the group around her had now dispersed into dancing. She knew that this would only lead to further Glamour control from Aaron, so she knew that she needed to get out of range from his powers. The sooner she stood up, the sooner she spotted Renn walking past her. Her face seemed to form into the darkest of expressions as the flash of Renn walking away from her came across her face. She was too late on changing the expression she saw that he had given her a smile of all things, so when she had mustered up a small lift of her lips into what one might consider a smile, Renn's back was to her.

She felt herself walking towards him until she saw the two boys that were close behind him, so she retreated to a distance that she felt was far enough from Aaron's grasp. She looked around the group of students, knowing that their destinies were all about to change. She knew that somewhere deep down that this time next year they wouldn't be standing around a campfire dancing. The quick site of death in her mind made her push back against the tree as the moon provided her with the shadows she needed to build up the wall to hide herself. She enjoyed being able to watch people without them being able to watch her back. She liked the way her power supplied her with it's own power in meaning. She played with the hem of her shirt as she bit her lip hard seeing how happy everyone seemed to be in their little group of friends.

It seemed that this was how Darcy was suppose to be the rest of her life; alone. Even Renn had walked away from her in a moment that she felt was so much more, but his lack of realization that walking off was a big mistake made her clench her fist into the grass as her back slid down the tree. "Fuck feelings." She said as the shadows grew to most intense shade of black, no longer letting her see outside of the wall she had formed. She didn't like having her feelings out in the open, so the chance of it happening again was slim to none. Hearing the clanking of glass, she let the wall fade as she spotted what the boys had been after. Alcohol. The smirk across her face was something to behold, but luckily for her only Renn had the pleasure to know she was able to. He had just finished setting up the keg that he all too soon disappeared himself into the outskirts of the forest, like herself.

She knew that if she wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him to want her that she would need to change the distance between them. Walking through the wall that had formed, she walked straight towards the refreshments. She eyed over the lot of alcohol, settling for two beers. She needed Renn to loosen up, but the idea of throwing liquor into his system scared even her. She knew that many of the people standing in the courtyard had probably never drank with their power, but the second her eyes hit Harvey she knew her statement needed to be revised. She hated all that Harvey stood for, but even she couldn't completely hate him. He had so much to offer to the world, but something in his past held him back. The thoughts of Harvey stopped as Darcy turned back to her present task. Talk to Renn.

With the cold beer against her palms, Darcy knew that her powers would be at ease with the sensation of the cool sweat from the bottles. She found herself in front of Renn faster than expected, but even she could admit she had been drawn to him. With no hands available, she pushed the nearest bottle towards Renn. "Drink." The word came out to be filled with so much more than the actually meaning, but only Renn would catch the cramming of emotion in the single verb. She wanted to yell and scream at him, but she knew that would get them no where. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she felt herself trying to come up with the right words. She had now managed to open her beer bottle, down half of it, and feel the need to go get another. "What happened on the beach?"

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, Darcy wanted to bring it back in. She closed her hands hard as she felt her powers building a wall between herself and Renn. She didn't want this to happen. The wall was growing darker as she stepped through it, making her only inches from Renn's body as she looked up at him. "I don't want to run from you, but when you just left me.." Her voice drowns off as the wall falls, allowing her to take back her original distance. "You just left me."

---

Harvey Mak Chinnen
The Duke of Sighs

Fuck me now. The thought sprawled across Harvey's mind as his gaze fell across the fire, begging it to consume his being. He closed his eyes for what seemed like hours, trying to fathom why the fellow Omarain insisted on doing shit like this. "I swear. Sometimes I want to beat the shit out of him." He felt her was bringing blood to his lips as he bit down hard before returning the cigarette to his mouth. He inhaled for the longest time, holding it deep within his lungs before releasing the smoke out into the forest. He tugged at his jacket, pulling out another cigarette because the way the evening was going he would need to entire pack.

Seeing Erin's cat welcome Markus kindly, he didn't dare test the cats limit by offering out his hand. He had the idea of kicking it, but for some reason he liked it. Of course that was mostly due to it's owner, who soon followed behind. "Erin." He nodded seeing the look in her eyes. He could tell that tonight was not the kind of night she would intentionally find herself in, so he kept his words minimal as he remembered Something's attempt at a joke. A thought crossed his mind that made him put the second cigarette back into his jacket. He smirked as his mind worked wonders on what could possibly happen if he successfully achieves what he has in mind. He tossed the blueberry into his mouth that he had forgotten was there, tasting it's sweetness almost immediately. He smirked at Something who was still remaining on the ground with smoke in her eyes. He had guessed that the presence of Erin was also having to do with her remaining low.

It seemed within minutes that Something and Harvey were on their own, so he placed a hand around her wrist bringing her back up to his level. "More blueberries." He said as he placed his arm around her shoulders, seeing his plan unravel in front of him. He leaned close to her ear, pushing back the hair so she would clearly hear his words. "Ever watched Dirty Dancing? I'm about to make you dance a little dirtier than that. Don't resist. It's all for fun." He smirked against her ear before pulling back a normal distance. He was just about to walk away when he felt the slightest movement where their shouldn't have been. With a quick pat down, he looked over his shoulder to see Soren with his lighter. She wants to play this kind of game. The smirk was replaced with the thoughts of how he could get back at her, but at the moment he was too busy shocking the majority of people in the circle.

He led Something to the middle of the students, pulling her against him as he let his glamour take control. Their hips began to grind as Harvey let himself darken the music, giving Aaron a look before he continued to grind against Something. "Let the music take over." He said through almost a whisper that only she would be able to hear. The movements matched what would look like a scene from Dirty Dancing, so he was pleased by the awe most people now gave them at their willingness to openly grind against each other in the most inappropriate way. Catching the eyes of Seph, the most devilish smirk came across his face as he licked his lips as he grinded with Something. The poor girl would never know what she meant to him, but in this moment he knew that it would be fun to play the game with her.

“Please do tell me how that wouldn’t be an improvement.” Erin countered dryly at Markus’ comment about becoming a pile of ashes, before she began walking with him, hopefully very far away from the Omarain glamour and people with no boundaries whatsoever. She took a deep breath as she and Markus walked in silence for a while after he’d patted Irayah on the head, which the demon kitten of course had loved. For a demon, she sure did like being petted. Erin glanced down at her, deliberately directing her thoughts in the direction of the creature. “Keep this up and I’m sending you back to hell.” The demon kitten purred and rubbed its nose against Erin’s neck as if that would be all cute and the blonde would give in due to it. Ah, but that wasn’t the case at all. Erin was pissed. She might be somewhat happy about it right now; darkness quieted, and an idea of how to get Daniel to give up on her, but that did not in any way justify the fact that the ball of black fur had decided to force her into interacting with people when she hadn’t wanted to. Fucking demons and their personal agendas, aspiring to make her ‘give in to her dark side’. Erin almost rolled her eyes as the words formed in her thoughts, but refrained.

She didn’t pay much attention to anything behind her, nor did she look at Markus. In fact, the icy woman was lost in thought, eyes focused on the horizon, wondering how on earth she was going to propose this idea to Markus, because she had a bad feeling that she was going to regret it. Oh, she knew Markus would agree – that wasn’t the issue. The issue was, how much of a jerk was he going to be about it? What was she going to tell him as an explanation exactly? Before she really got to answer her own questions, however, Markus was talking again. She glanced at him with total disinterest, absolutely positive that he was merely going to spit some bullshit again. And she wasn’t disappointed. He even added some theatrics. How cute. She did snort at the last bit, though, a little humored. She had to admit he could be entertaining in his own very fucked up way. She raised an eyebrow at him, “Markus, there is nothing scarier than Aaron’s choice in music, mixed with drunken, dancing idiots.” She said, over-dramatic, feigned gravity in her eyes and voice.

Then she smiled wryly, rolling her eyes. The consistency of the earth beneath her feet however, soon made the smile disappear. Her heels were digging into the squishy earth and she began pondering the possibility of going barefoot, except she really loved these boots… and they completed her outfit, in their own, sort of slutty way. Or maybe she just hated mud. Right now she didn’t sink too much, though, so it was bearable, but it if it became an issue, her boots were off. Of course she could also leave, but she was quite enjoying the meaningless conversation she was leading with the male Mori. He and Graham seemed so free and… without worries and troubles. Not like Daniel and herself. Perhaps Daniel was right; they were taking the easy road, and maybe he thought that made them weak, but in that case, was she weak for considering giving in too? She was just so tired of fighting. These blissful moments around people like Markus were so amazing, so blissfully quiet and calm. It could be that way all the time; no more beasts clamoring against their metaphorical bars, no more nightmares… no more people dying around her without her controlling anything. The darkness would become part of her. She’d be able to control herself… even in her sleep; no longer split into two people. It was so tempting.

Then the man beside her spoke again and she shot him a cold, indifferent look, sporting all of the iciness he was complaining about. She noted how his tone of voice had changed, though, and it caused her to smile dryly inwardly. He was so temperamental, and he let it affect him so easily. It was weird to the woman who did her very best to conceal extreme emotions like anger behind an icy, unconcerned façade at all times, yet oddly calming. If she ever did lose control, Markus would at least be able to relate… if he cared to. She cocked her head a little, only just noticing that he’d removed his jacket and she couldn’t help another amused snort. “In that case you probably shouldn’t have taken off your jacket, now, should you?” For the first time that day, her voice held a tint of playfulness, although it was still quite tempered down with dry humor, irritation and an undercurrent of total apathy.

She gave his t-shirt a skeptical look. Then she looked up at him with an ironic, wry smile. “Unless you’re trying to tell me something, of course.” She inwardly face-palmed herself once the words had left her mouth, but her face was impassive as always, except for that ghost of a smile and the dryly amused look in her eyes. Had that been her dark side peeking through, or did she actually want to lead him on? Maybe she was subconsciously just preparing herself for the conversation she was going to initiate soon. She was deliberately holding back, though. She wasn’t entirely sure she still wanted to do this. Could she really hurt Daniel that way? Could she truly do that to him? And if she could… would she then be able to keep herself from breaking in the process? If Daniel left her life, could she hold on to the light or would she loose herself and give into her darkness? Was she even sure she didn’t want that anymore? There were so many doubts, Erin couldn’t make herself suggest the whole thing to Markus yet. It could wait a little while. She wanted entirely out of the range of Aaron’s music, either way. She could still hear it in the distance.

Though she had been crouching, and her greeting whispered, Something could not say she hadn’t noticed the way Erin and Markus had completely ignored her. I mean, WOWZA. Not even a nod in her direction. Definitely not a goodbye. Simultaneously, she could not say she was surprised, or that it made her sad. She had been crouching and whispering like a strange wild child. Perhaps Erin hadn’t heard her quiet greeting. Or perhaps they had forgotten about her since she was so near the ground. Or perhaps it was a joke of theirs. Maybe a joke... Yet while she was crouching on the ground, she saw from her peripheral Harvey plopping her blueberry gift into his mouth, and the corners of her small mouth turned up ever so slightly. A smile so faint it was mostly seen by the crinkling of her eyes.

Something was huffing and puffing on her gifted cigarette when unexpectedly, she was being pulled up from the ground. Her eyes grew wide as she drew her brows together, face concerned, mouth forming a little "o" as Harvey's arm slid comfortably around bony shoulders.

"Oh blueberries! Of course!" Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of course Harvey wanted more blueberries. They were particularly delicious this time. She reached around to her backpack, but Harvey had her already moving forward before she could get adjusted properly. She was having difficulty rummaging around while walking but she was certain they were right ther-...and then his hand. It pushed her hair, the tips of which caressing her shoulder, tickling her. Instinctively she shuddered and shied away, backpack slipping to the ground as her hands moved to swat his hand, the trembles down her spine uncontrollable. But he was persistent, and she was uncertain. His lips, she felt them against her ear. Her eyes grew as wide as they ever had been.

"Ever watched Dirty Dancing? I'm about to make you dance a little dirtier than that. Don't resist. It's all for fun." Harvey had cooed.

"Whaaa--?" her voice high and tiny, as her face blushed a bright unattractive red as his mouth moved in a smile against her sensitive ear. Her ears had taken their cue from her face, also adopting a flaming hue at this point. She didn't quite understand...there were plenty of scenes in Dirty Dancing, lots of dancing oddly enough. How was he expecting her too...did he really think...she couldn't dance like that. She simply didn't know how; she felt bothered by his closeness, ashamed even; and she wasn't sure if he was making fun of her. Her confusion added to the embarrassment, and it negatively fed into each other into a continually amplified loop.

Yet he pulled and pushed, albeit gently, and she clomped after him, resisting like a weak shell-shocked child, "I-..." she attempted.

As Harvey began to dance with her, she tried to scoot away from him, like a dog tucking its tail between its legs and leaping at an unfamiliar touch. She felt so unsure. This was a joke, right? She chirped nervously, wooden hips moving stiffly as her eyes fluttered from Harvey to those around her back to Harvey, searching his eyes for a reason.

‘Why?’ her eyes pleaded.

"I-..." she tried again, but she didn't know what she would say, she was so flustered by the entire thing. She felt so strange. What was this feeling in her gut? In her chest? She didn't understand how she felt. A strange warmth, a pressure, a breathlessness. She couldn't fathom that two of the Omarains were using their magic to plant these seeds, these desires in her heart, neurons firing foreign messages that she had never felt before. Everything was incredibly conflicted. She didn't know where to put her hands, so she placed her slender arms gingerly around his neck, as if this was the prom she was not yet old enough to have attended. Was this what it would have been like? She was unsure of his own hands. Were they helping and guiding? Selfishly exploring? What? There was a war within her ribcage where two entities were ripping each other savagely apart. One that viciously sought the unfamiliar warmth his body had to offer, hungrily. The other wanted to crumble, to run, to hide. They both shrieked and raged at each other's throats, snarling with the flashing of gnashing teeth. Something was blinking excessively as she attempted to sort it all out.

They were grinding. "Let the music take over." His voice was so soft. He was speaking to her, not anyone else. This new part of her wanted to listen. Her body was thrumming and vibrating with this…But she couldn't completely. She knew she moved so awkwardly; she was not sensual by nature. She was not graceful. She was not one who was envied. She was not one who danced. And she was especially not one who danced like this. Even more especially not one who got to dance with someone of Harvey’s status. Every glance they got, she was sure was disapproving. Mocking. Judging. She bit her lip to fight away tears.

There was something that was wrong. She wouldn't act like this. It was so totally out of her character. Why did she feel like this? The chaos in her mind, this perpetual blush, it was making her hot. Or something else was. But she was sweating. Face sheening with this unnatural sweat. This feeling...a swelling feeling in her chest was a growing hive of increasingly agitated bees. Her heart was thumping as anxiety threatened to burst from her chest like an alien baby forcefully birthing itself from her ribcage. It pounded. She was afraid she might be breathing too heavily.

"I-.." she repeated unsure.

He moved so well; his movements felt so erotic to Something. He could be sensual. Like a well-oiled, experienced sexy bot machine boy. She felt like an ugly wooden puppet in his arms, grotesque in his strong hands. She felt so defeated that she almost gave in, eyes slowly dropping. And all at once she realized something. A horrifying something. A terrible awful monstrous something. His penis was centimeters from her leg, separated by layers of fabric. From her own private parts. It was there. She could feel it now that she concentrated on it. There. It was right there. It was right there!

Her eyes grew increasingly wide and then welled up with tears. In the middle of her dance, (which probably wasn't even good given how gawkily she moved, something she was self-conscious about in itself) her eyes began brimming uncontrollably with tears so hot they felt like her skin blistered as they fell. She believed they must have been boiling. She knew in her head she was fine. She supposed everything was fine. Her face was fine. But her heart felt like it had imploded from the building pressure. She covered her burning scarlet face with both of her hands and she tried to hold in the sobs, standing stiff and straight.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted.

She did the best she could to hold it in, to fight it back, holding her breath, yet she ended up sipping in little bits of air as she stood rail straight. Her knees felt weak so she just sank to the ground. Let it happen. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Harvey." she repeated. But she was making it worse, she knew. Harvey would be angry. Not only did she not dance well for him, now she was a quitter. He would be so mad.

"I just don't know how, and I'm not making excuses or anything I'm just so sorry," voice thin and muffled behind her hands. "I need a drink," she finished balefully, sniffing and looking up, doleful defeated eyes. "Let's get drinks." She clumsily gathered herself up and tentatively grabbed Harvey’s hand tenderly to pull him along with her, releasing her grip as they grew an arm’s length apart, darting to where the alcohol was.

"I need whiskey," she breathed towards no person in particular but rather anyone near the alcohol, wiping her face roughly, angrily even, with her forearm. Her voice was a bit lower than usual. Perhaps it was the determination. Perhaps the desperation. Renn, Vendicare, and Elvis technically had claims to the drinks, as they're the ones who invested their time and energy into getting them. She felt strange just swooping in and taking things that weren't hers. Hesitantly, she eyed a particularly attractive bottle of Jameson, fingertip scratching at the crevice where the bottle met the table. But a new thought brought a new worry to her a face. A worry that temporarily distracted her from her self-loathing; her face almost appeared to brighten for a moment.
"Oh, do you have any teacups?" She hated drinking whiskey from anything else.

The Smiling Fiend

His comments were dryly tossed back at him. She matched him foot for foot, but of course, with the way her boots were sinking into the soft loam, if he so wanted he could vanish into the trees that were rising up around them, their visages dark. That would be quite funny. Erin captured Markus's attentions again, however, with her retort to his comment about her iciness. Was that a touch of teasing he heard? Levity underneath her cool crust? He opened his mouth to respond when she continued, a dryly amused smile planted on her face. His own smile waxed mischievous. "Oh, you know me, sweetheart." He said, his voice heavy with lazy carelessness. "I'd never do something like that, oh, no. Add another birdie to my collection?" he shot her a side look, his hand rising at the same time in an unconscious gesture. His thumb pressed against a spot near the center of his chest, where the fading mark of a cross-burn made its home. A little one, one of those on the necklaces that the pretty Hispanic girls wear. Forty seconds is a long time to be in agony.

Markus's face, which had withdrawn into that blank look, a hospitable smile ghosting his countenance, sparked suddenly back into life. His eyes traveled, as was a habit of his, down the slim form of his companion again. His hand fell back to his side, and was stuffed immediately in his pocket as his eyes landed on her shoes. He lifted an eyebrow. "Need someone to carry you, love? You're loosing a couple inches there." He grinned a self-indulged grin, gesturing towards her shoes with his un-pocketed hand. It was quite clear by the grin what he was thinking as he offered, but also that he had no intentions of following through with said offer.

When all was said in done though, he altered his course slightly, away from the stream and to where the ground was somewhat firmer. He had a location in mind, his second favorite destination, the first being the Ghostyard, which was a bit too far away to make with the current company, especially with her boots. His destination was a large boulder-ish clump of rocks that looked like they'd just been dropped right in the middle of the forest. A tree grew right up next to the largest rock, it's roots tangling over the surface of the smaller ones as it leaned on the landmark for support. A nice place to sit.

They were completely out of the woods, so to speak, the music was gone and there was little chance of running into any dancing, drunken idiots. Markus sighed, arching his back slightly and closing his eyes for a few second. "There, I think we're free." He mumbled, more to himself than anything. Markus was a big fan of talking to himself. He shot a look behind, his eyes narrowed slightly. Nope, no one that he could see. Then he looked at Erin. "You've got something on your mind." He said, his voice profound for a moment. Then he flashed his grin again; "You still trying to decide if you want to fuck me or not, love?" He held out his hands wide in a W, palms up. His eyes, for once, remained on her face, because he was quite curious. he liked to say that he could smell a good game or an amusing plot from a mile away. He was taking a shot into the dark, admittedly, because Erin didn't usually spend this much time with him in one sitting, so to speak. Not to mention the fact that she'd actually followed him into the forest. Which mean that she was either planning something, or she was just extremely desperate to get away from the party, oh, sorry, the 'revelry'.

Before she could answer, if she was even intending to, Markus held out a hand. The pale cluster of rocks, his destination, had just revealed itself ahead of them. "I'd stay here for a moment if I was you." he said offhandedly, pulling his coat off his shoulder and gripping it in a fist. The side from which they'd approached was the back side of the largest boulder, an almost sheer surface with the tree leaning against it, the lower branches hugging the rock. The other side was less steep, the other rocks making a stair step like formation up to the peak of the miniature mountain, where the rock was dipped slightly, a place for a little puddle to form or a place for a Markus to sit. And the rock itself was a place for a Markus to show off.

He took a few strides forward, his pace confident. He pulled his shirt off holding in the same grip as his jacket, his back arched to an almost impossible degree and jumped for the lip of the rock, which was about four or five heads higher than him. Near the apex of his leap, his wings tore themselves from the seams of his back, unfurling and sending droplets of blood spinning towards the ground below him. With one powerful and extremely painful movement, his raw wings caught the air and pushed him a little further upwards, so he could alight on the top of the rock like a cat. A simple hat trick, no thought involved, he'd done it quite a couple times before. It was the closest he could get to flying. The cold slowed down the bleeding and numbed the pain of the raw flesh, making it perfect for practicing, exercising the garish appendages. And for showing off.

Markus settled down on the rock, laying on his stomach so he could look down at his companion, His wings flicked behind him, not willing to close against his back. His eyes were dark, gleaming with his amusement as he reached down, offering the blonde a lift up. "I can pull you, up, or you can scramble gracefully up on your own. Either way is funny to me." He grinned toothily. "Then you can tell me whatever delicious miscreation you've got in that pretty little noggin of yours, love."