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Sunday Davenport

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a character in “Outcasters: Atonement”, as played by TheCrimsonLady

Groups

A small force of Faeries aiming to rescue their Queen and reclaim the world's throne.

Description



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N A M E
Sunday Montez Davenport

P H Y S I C A L - A G E
18

A C T U A L - A G E
Unknown

G E N D E R
Female

S P E C I E S
Demon/Fae

S E X U A L I T Y
H E T E R O S E X U A L

S O N G S
Walking With A Ghost||Tegan and Sara



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H E I G H T
5 ' 6 "

W E I G H T
130 l b s

S K I N
Alabaster

E Y E S
Grey-Green

H A I R
Black

M A R K I N G S
T A T T O O S
A Remei concealment sigil
N/A

S C A R S
Many
N/A


N O R M A L - A T T I R E
Gowns
Dresses
Lace
fishnet
ribbons





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P E R S O N A L I T Y
A good word to explain Sunday now would be distant. She'd much rather be left alone, and when forced into social situations, she closes herself off, hiding her discomfort through the gist of disinterest and indifference, and while she is still sweet, she is not as mousy as she used to be, she's darker now, having to play the role of a dutiful daughter when deep down, she would like nothing more then to end this war with one well placed blade.
L I K E S
Children
New Things
The Rain
Fighting alone side of her father
Alice
Music
Poetry



D I S L I K E S
Her Mother
Alec
Demons
Large Crowds
Being called Princess



F E A R S
Her mother finding her father
Her mother killing her grandmother
Losing Alice
Becoming like her mother.



S E C R E T S
She still loves Alec
She's heard rumor among the Demons that she should be Queen and not her mother
She as begun to discover new abilities
All of these things she's kept from Simon



W E A K N E S S E S
Iron
Alice
Family




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HISTORY/BIO
Since she was young, Sunday's life was never easy. She was the product of her father's -essentially-rape and the bane of her mother' existence. Abused and broken from a young age, Sunday was never felt love of any kind. It wasn't until she stole her mother's looking glass, which has been thrown at her, and broken that she laid eyes on the boy that would become her world. Alec Iris. She'd gazed at his face through the mirror, with wonder and imagine what it would be like to know him.What she did not know was that this love of hers would be used against her. Her mother found that she'd grown to love this boy she'd never met and so she since her to recruit him for the coming war her mother and grandfather were planning, knowing the boy to be powerful. What they hadn't expected was that she'd find out that not only was the boy her cousin but by way of her father, Simon Davenport. Soon she and Alec began a relationship, and she developed on with her father, but her mission still stood. She has recruited Alec to their cause, which wasn't hard as he was already there, the hard part was betraying her father. Which she did, and it damn near killed her to do. Sunday feel into a deep depression at that time, so Alec took her away from it all for a while, but once the war broke out and her grandmother and father captured, Sunday couldn't let them be killed. Her Grandmother, Ereida was safe from execution but her father was not, so Sunday, unbeknownst to anyone, not even the love of her life, freed her father, and substantially assisted in creating the Fae rebellion.During this time, she found that she was with child, but said nothing to Alec, and when he disappeared, she let him.
P O W E R S
Demonic Magic
Slight Demonic Force Manipulation
Ethereal Faery Physiology






F A C E - C L A I M || India Eisely C R E A T O R || TheCrimsonLadyH E X C O D E || # 0 0 0 0 0 0

So begins...

Sunday Davenport's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport

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Arc 1: The Uprising



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Training had not long come to an end when Alexander left the courtyard and ventured up to his private chambers. An intense sparring session with soldiers of the Remei had left him tired and bruised, and he panted as he trecked up the countless flights of stairs.

Alexander was often allowed the evenings to himself, provided his duties had been carried out beforehand. In this free time he'd either visit the barracks to check on his subordinates, journey down to the cellars to spend an hour or two with his wife, or he'd leave the castle to take care of... other business.

At considerable risk to his own safety, not to mention the lives of those still in Victoria's grasp, Alexander opted for the latter that night. He'd promised his granddaughter an assortment of weapons and armor; everything ranging from swords, whips, and staffs to shields, helms, and breastplates. As he'd been informed, the Rebellion were lacking in protection and their abilities could only get them so far.

Over the course of several weeks he'd been taking items in small numbers and hiding them elsewhere. If anyone dared to ask questions, he'd shrug it off and claim that they'd simply been lost on patrols or damaged beyond repair in training. No one thought to question him too much; Alex wasn't the sort of man with whom you could speak comfortably, so most didn't try.

One bandaged hand slipped gingerly into his pocket to retrieve a small silver watch, which he observed for a moment before quickly returning it to its place. If he left within the hour, he'd make it to the meeting place by nightfall. First, however, he needed a hot bath and a moment's rest.

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Alexander, accompanied by a select few of his most trusted and loyal soldiers, trudged through the mud with a solemn expression upon his face. His cloak, once a pristine white colour, dragged along the dirt as he went and caught on branches more times than he could count. He'd been foolish to wear it on a journey such as this, knowing it would get filthy, but the world had grown cold this past year. The nights were unbearable, more so than even he could tolerate.

Before long they came to a break in the trees; the clearing in which he was expecting to meet Sunday. True to her word she'd arrived precisely on time and had no doubt been waiting some time for Alex to finally show his face.

Hands clasped behind his back, Alexander bowed forward and dipped his head as a show of respect for the young lady, before straightening up. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." While he spoke, he gestured behind himself to the disgruntled soldiers lowering their crates to the floor. "As promised, I've brought everything you might need. Armor, weapons, clothing, medical supplies, food."

Alexander hesitated for a moment, seemingly conflicted, then waved a hand for one of his men to step forward. The younger boy clutched what appeared to be a box wrapped in cloth and tied with a piece of string, and shakily handed it over to Alex when he called. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," he explained as he then extended the gift to her. "They're mostly old fairy tales."

He'd not yet met Sunday's daughter, little Alice, but he already knew in his heart that he would adore her. He hoped he'd be able to meet her one day, when he wasn't in a position to have information tortured out of him. Until then he would stay away from the majority of his family, and the Rebellion's camp.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport

INK

This was a risk, she always knew it was. From the moment she escaped her mother and freed all of those Fae, coming back was a risk but she had to. Grandfather was still under Mother's thumb..and other things and she needed his help. Sunday Davenport was taking too many risks but they were all caculated. All where well thought out. If anyone caught them, she'd kill them or Grandfather would, it was as simple as that. If Mother caught them...she'd kill her too. They'd just have to find a way to find Alexis. That was less simple but it was an option. Alexis trapped herself in some Nether bubble to keep from being used in the war. Doing that made her a target but it also kept herself, Victoria could claim to hurt her if she wanted but no one actually believed her and that's if she actually had her. It was a bluff, she was good for those, but it worked. It worked on Grandfather so it was all Sunday could do but to play along. Why her Mother wasn't dead, she would never understand. She hated Alec for that, Erieda was always the right choice but for some reason he choice Victoria even after she murdered Sashi, out of spite for her and her Father, something her father had yet to recover from, though he'd never admit it. She still struggled with the guilt but Sashi didn't die in her arms...just before her eyes.

As she thought this over, a rustle startled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Grandfather clad in his Remei armor appear through the trees and bowed. She swallowed. She wasn't sure she was ever going to get use to that. She was acting Queen of the Fae since Father seemingly couldn't be bothered for his grief but she wished he wasn't so formal. How she longed for some familial love. She knew better though, he wasn't alone and him being this familiar with her was hard enough since she was technically the enemy. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." He said and his men began to lower crate after crate of supplies the rebels needed. "No need to worry, Grandfather, I understand the discretion." she said and held out a hand. A shadow swirled beneath the crates and they dropped one by one into the shadows, as if a hole formed beneath them.

Once the others finished a younger lad approached Grandfather and handed him something wrapped in cloth. Sunday cocked her head at Grandfather's nervous expression. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," He held the apparent books to her and Sunday smiled. "They're mostly old fairy tales." He told her and Sunday found herself giggling. "This is brillant, Grandfather, She will love them, Thank you," She said overjoyed that he thought of her young daughter to whom she'd be practically raising alone. She had Kellin but that was getting more and more complicated, Her Father was losing himself by the day. She did have Eida but she was just as lost as she is. She wished she had someone older, wiser. She wished she had Grandmother. Sunday's smile faded. "Have you seen her?" she asked softly, dropping her gaze. " Grandmother, I mean, is she any better? " she asked, remember how broken shed been the last time she saw her, talking to herself, weakened severely by the iron. It was awful knowing how powerful she had been. How she still could be now if Sunday had chosen to save her instead of Father that night. She was still lucid then, told her to take Father and go, but they needed her. Now more then ever.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Roan Ambers

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Sunday's pleasant response was a relief, and Alexander found himself finally releasing a breath he wasn't entirely aware he was holding. Her laughter echoed throughout the clearing which elicited a gentle smile from the old soldier, despite how hard it had been for him to do so this past year.

"This is brilliant, Grandfather. She will love them, thank you."

Straightening his expression, Alexander dipped his head in response and offered a simple, "You're welcome."

He noted her sudden shift in mood and it only took him a second to figure out where this conversation was headed. Sunday was very fond of her grandmother and it was no secret she intended to free the former Queen from her prison. It was only by Alexander's begging that she ended up in that place, rather than being outright executed, but he wouldn't be entirely surprised if Sunday blamed herself for her mother's actions.

"Have you seen her?" the young girl asked solemnly. "Grandmother, I mean, is she any better?"

Alexander paused for the longest moment before clearing his throat. "I try to visit your Grandmother each evening, if I can," he told her, his voice dropping considerably in volume. "She's... not doing too well, I must admit. Barely lucid at the best of times, and only growing weaker by the day." His gazed shifted for a single moment, perhaps out of shame or just discomfort, but he regained his composure quickly enough.

"Thankfully, in her state of mind, she seems to be unaware of her situation. She believes that she's living in the Hotel once more, with her children," he further explained. "I've not had the heart to shatter that illusion."

"She's mad," muttered one of the soldiers, standing a little in front of his comrades. "You ought to give her some mercy, let her die in peace rather than forcing her to live in pai-" The man's voice cut short as Alexander's head whipped around, wearing the sort of look in his eyes he typically reserved for the Tyrant Queen. "Forgive my outspokenness," he offered feebly, then stepped back.

Alexander inhaled slowly and returned his attention to Sunday. It was only for the man's loyalty that he wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood, but there were more important matters at hand than disciplining a loose-lipped subordinate. He hadn't travelled so far only to offer supplies; he also had information that may have been valuable to the Rebellion.

Reaching into his cloak, Alexander retrieved a small scroll of paper and passed it to Sunday. "I've happened upon a small village nearby. It's under the Queen's control, naturally, but it's deemed relatively unimportant since the village is small and poor," he said. "It's guarded by one large creature and a handful of Demon soldiers, none belonging to the Remei." Another scroll of paper was revealed and once again passed to Sunday, this time detailing the resources, civilians, and amount of soldiers she could expect to find there. "I'm afraid that's all the help I can give you for now."

Behind him he could hear his men getting restless and Alexander knew he had to wrap this meeting up as quickly as possible. Before then, however, he had one more think to inquire about. "How... is Simon coping?" he asked, his expression softer than it had been just moments before.




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Simon rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh, the back of his head resting on his forearm. He waited a few moments until he caught his breath, then sat up a little. "Christ..."

His time with Ambers only ever felt good in the moment, he'd quickly come to realise. The second they were done, he would always feel a tightness in his chest and a weight on his shoulders that proved unbearable at times. His mother's imprisonment, the fate of his people, and the countless hardships he forced upon his own daughter because he was too weak to shoulder them alone. All of it was taking its toll on him. The man in his bed wouldn't distract him forever, much that Simon wished he could.

When sex wasn't enough, there was only one other thing that worked to drive away the depression. One thing that made him truly numb.

After what felt like an eternity of staring into space, Simon finally heaved himself up and walked to the furthest side of the tent where his garments lay in a messy pile. He bent to pick up his bottoms before he started pulling them on, another impatient sigh filling the silence.

"Go fetch some wine from storage, would you?" he asked, his tone somehow both sharp and exhausted at the same time, and for the first time since in a while he finally turned to look at Ambers. "Not that weak mortal shit though... It won't do anything for me."

The look in Simon's eyes suggested he wasn't in the mood to argue about the subject, but he suspected the young soldier would try it anyway.

Setting Changes... 50425 => 50623

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Alice Iris

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Time Skip: The Following Morning



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Simon had woken up exceptionally early that morning, wrapped in cloth and nothing else. Ambers was nowhere to be seen, which usually meant he was off being productive elsewhere in the camp. The prince yawned, stretched his arms out, and waited for the tiredness to fade completely before he ambled out of bed.

He attempted to pour himself some wine but, for a reason unbeknown to him, the jug that had been brought to his tent the night before was now empty. Clicking his teeth, Simon ventured out of his tent, heading for the storage tent nearby. That's usually where they kept it.

When Simon spotted his daughter, seemingly taking inventory at the far side of the tent, he halted for the briefest moment. "Oh, Sunday," he said, a little dumbly, "I should've guessed you'd be here so early." The new supplies had been brought in last night; he wasn't even sure when she'd gotten back to camp.

He allowed himself some time to survey the newer additions to their armour and weapons, one gloved hand hovering over a pair of Sai in the crate closest to him. There was something in his eyes when he looked at these blades, but whatever that may have been, it was gone far too soon to be of any note.

Kneeling beside his granddaughter, who was also in there with them, Simon extended an arm to tussle her hair, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. "And good morning to you, sweetie. Are you well?"

There wasn't a chance in hell he'd be indulging in his newfound drinking habits with the two of them around, and deep down he may have been relieved about that.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Alice Iris

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Alice had awoken early so Sunday decided to get an early start herself. She was glad Mycah had reunited with Eida and finally met Hotaru. She didn't know if they would reconcile at the rate their stubbornness was going but she was glad they found each other. It couldn't help but make her think of Alec. She wanted so desperately to hate him but she couldn't bring herself to do it. A large percentage of the population, Fae, Demon and Human like were murdered because of him. Humans were practically extinct. Her mother ruled the world and her grandmother was losing her sanity because of him, yet, she couldn't hate him. Even after abandoning her for this crusade. She couldn't hate him. She still loved him, like a fool.

After some hours, while Alice read with her bunny Mr. White, a miraculous find of her brother's, something Sunday was eternally grateful for as Alice loved that doll, Sunday decided to take inventory, there were a wide array of weapons, chainmail of gold, iron and silver. Claymores, Sais, Charkams and Raipers, Even a Silver Bullets for a few revolvers. This was a good find her Grandfather made. She picked up the Charkam, a disc shaped blade and turned it over in her hand. She liked it, it felt good, weighted nearly perfect for her strength and size. She was tempted to test it but her father made an appearance and she set it down softly. She smiled in response. "You can thank Alice for that, actually" she said with a chuckle as he kneel by his granddaughter. Alice looked up at him, her expression impassive as usual. "Good Morning, I am fine" she said and that was that, her attention was back on the book, though she blew out air from her nose as if she smelled something foul but otherwise said nothing.

Sunday stayed quiet as well. People grieved in their own way, she wouldn't hold his vices against him, for he, of all of them, lost the most. "Mycah has returned to camp, finally met Hotaru, Isn't that wonderful? " she said, trying to add her once natural cheerfulness to her words. "He seems to be staying, Eida acts indifferent but she's happy he's come back, maybe they'll forgive each other?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Alice Iris Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport

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The crinkling of Alice's nose when Simon approached was not lost on him and instinctively, he stepped backwards. Not that it would help at all, he realized. His daughter said nothing on the topic, which was something of a relief. The last thing any of them needed right now was to be fighting; not when a divide in opinions would assuredly result in the division of the rebellion as a whole.

Sunday began speaking of her cousin, Eida, and her relationship with the Dragon boy. Simon listened, nodded, and offered the sort of half-smile that showed he was very much paying attention but that he also had little time for worrying about other people's relationships. Beyond that, he feared supporting this reconciliation would only put ideas in Sunday's head. When she posed a question to him, there was a pause. "It's entirely possible," he murmured, and left it at that.

Simon was curious about her meeting with Alexander, or rather he was only interested in finding out what beneficial information had been exchanged between the two. "My father," he began, "I imagine he shared more than just weaponry and supplies." It was more so a prompt than an outright question; no doubt Sunday would continue from there, had she been given half a chance.

The tent curtains drew back and in waltzed the Fae Prince, Isaac, a cut from his brow producing a steady stream of blood down one side of his face and soaking the collar of his once-white shirt. Wet mud and sporadic patches of blood covered him from head-to-toe. Still he grinned from ear-to-ear, apparently proud of himself. In one hand he held the severely dented helm of a Remei soldier, casual despite the way it burned his skin. "Had a run-in with 'em not too far from here, only be a matter of time 'fore they find this camp too."

He tossed the helmet to the ground by his sister's feet, then leaned against a nearby table with his arms crossed over his chest. "Don't mind me though, if you were talkin' about stuff."

Setting Changes... 50623 => 50617

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Roan Ambers Character Portrait: Antheia Ophiuchus Character Portrait: Zio

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S I M O N
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The journey to the camp had probably felt longer than it was, with the tension hanging over them like a dark cloud. Simon had stared straight ahead the entire time, walking beside his stag, trying not to habitually check that Ambers was managing to support Zio's weight. Part of it was faith in the boy's strength, but most was straight-up stubbornness.

"Camp's just ahead," called one of the men from the head of the group.

Appearing as if from nowhere once the group emerged into a seemingly empty clearing, until they broke through the treeline, at which point a series of complex wooden structures became visible. Countless men, women, and children - of every species imaginable - went about their business, chattering loudly despite the sudden appearance of their King. Such was the casual nature of his leadership - he was the first among equals, except where his fighters were concerned.

With little more than a few swift gestures to surrounding soldiers, Simon had ordered that Zio be placed in a holding cell until further notice - his arms and legs were to be bound, his vision was to be restricted, and he was to be supervised around the clock. Useful as this information may have been, it was not his highest priority to receive the message at that time.

Several soldiers stepped forward to help Zio down from their comrade's back, and carry him to the appropriate location. He fully expected Roan to follow him, but after the way he'd been treated... Simon would understand if the soldier had opted to hang back for a while.

A few words in the right person's ear would, sooner or later, alert the camp of a meeting to be held in the King's private quarters.

Simon marched through the camp without intending to spare a glance in anyone's direction, however came to a fairly swift halt after almost passing his daughter - the second Rebellion leader. Sunday would've wanted to be present for this meeting, and Simon wanted to spare himself the scolding that would come with leaving her out of it yet again.

Trusting his chosen messenger to spread the word fairly quickly on his own, Simon climbed the countless stairways to the uppermost level of the camp, and made his way towards his own private chambers. Pulling back the curtains, he was pleased to find the room empty. Some people had the terrible habit of merely waltzing in without an invitation. I ought to find myself a house with a door, he thought to himself, and a big sign that says 'piss off.'

Simon slowed his pace once he was inside, raising his arms above his head in a much-needed stretch. For the first time that day, he was beginning to feel the effects of a poor night's sleep. His eyes drifted towards his bed for but a moment before he peeled them away, knowing the temptation of sleep would be far too difficult to resist.

"You can get yourself set up at the table," he said absentmindedly, although the comment was directed at Roan, who'd trailed after him this entire time. "The others will be here soon enough, but there's snacks and water... Help yourself to whatever you need."

Setting Changes... 50617 => 50623

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eida Iris Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Mycah Youngfire Character Portrait: Alice Iris Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport

INK

Sunday set to keeping herself busy with the affairs of the camp, with Alice in toe. Leaving the little girl alone for too long was dangerous, just not for Alice. Her powers frightened even Sunday herself, such they were peculiar. Her heritage was not a normal one. Demon, Fae and whatever the hell Alec was at the time. He had been merely Fae of some fashion and if memory served White Wraith but he'd acquired abilities that went beyond that of either of his heritage and she wasn't sure what that was. He manipulated Space Time, shattered the multiverse sending the world back into the dark ages. She didn't understand how even though she knew why. what she didn't understand was why in the name of the dead gods did he give the new world...to her mother. That cruel, violent, hateful bitch instead of Grandmother, who knew how to rule, who was just, firm, surely but just and kind. She remembered fondly how she'd stroke Sunday's hair sweetly when she went in for a hug. Sunday felt the pang in her chest of an oncoming panic attack. She couldn't leave Alice alone but she needed Issac. She was addicted and she knew it but it was the only thing keeping her steady. She knew her father would never approve of what they were doing but he had his vices and she had hers.

She smiled over at Alice. " Come little one, We are going to see your Aunt Eida and Hotaru. " She said and Alice gave her a vacant look but grabbed her rabbit with on hand and her mother's in another and her eyes watched her. Sunday was trapped in her daughter's gaze and memories flooded her mind. "Alice,please" she begged but they kept coming. They weren't just images, but smells, tastes, sensations. As if her entire life happened all at once. "Alice!" She shouted and Alice jumped and snatched her hand away. Sunday clutched her chest. " You can't -" Sunday could barely breath. She fidgetted and swallowed the deep gulps of air. "You can't do that, it is painful" She tokd the girl as diplomatically as possible.
Alice said nothing as usual and sunday grabbed her hand and lead her to where Eida, Hotaru and now Mycah were.

"Lady Sunday!" He said with a smile, Hotaru in his arms but one look at her face and his bright smile faded. , " Is everything alright? " He asked, concerned. Sunday couldn't respond. Mycah was such a good father. He knew for less then a day and all his qualms with Eida were shadows in the light of the fact that he was a father. Eida wouldn't have to do this alone and yet Alec had crested a new world, and left her alone in it with a child she couldn't possibly understand. She was the one that left but did he even care? She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Can you look after-?" Her breath hitched. Mycah was already nodding. " Of course, but? "
"Thank you." And she was off.

Where? To Isaac's tent.
"Issac?!" She called. "Issac, I need you!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport Character Portrait: Zio Character Portrait: Hannah

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Zio listened to Hannah's words, his curiosity at its peak, though not a hint of it showed through his expression. He remained motionless, guarded but not outright unwilling to believe. There was a sincerity to her words that the stoic soldier had picked up on throughout the speech.

Of course, very few knew of Alec's survival, let alone the state of the realm and Alec's tie to it. There was something strange about her; he wasn't sure yet if that was good or bad.

"I am not sure how much time we have left. I am in your cell with you, but I do not sense any resistance from you. Are you being treated like this willingly?"

"I am here at Alec's request, so I must endure this treatment until my task is completed," he explained, albeit sparing her all the details. Time was an issue, as she'd said. "I doubt we've enough time here for you to convince me of your trustworthiness, so allow me to propose an idea." Zio lowered himself to his knees, hands placed in his lap, eyes trained ever-still on the stranger. "I will complete the task that ties me to this place, the Rebel Camp, and tomorrow - if all goes well - I will meet you by the entrance of it. I will take you to Alec myself, so that I know you will not launch an ambush, and you may speak your truth to the Prince directly."

The Fey made a small gesture, akin to a shrug, and decided to finish off this confrontation with a stern statement. "If this does not work for you then I'm afraid there is little I can do to help, for I am no fool, but I will not deny you if there's a chance you speak the truth."




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"Isaac?!" called the all-too-familiar voice of Isaac's younger sister, her intentions made clear through the urgency in her tone. The Prince, sitting upon a self-crafted wooden stool and absentmindedly wiping blood from his blade, snapped his gaze upwards. "Isaac, I need you!" she called again upon entering.

With a sharp huff, Isaac set down his blade and rag, and lifted himself from his seat. "Keep your voice down, would'ya?" he answered back, hesitant to close the gap between them until he'd gotten his words out, thereafter followed by actions taken to secure their privacy. "As if there aren't enough rumours already." The likes of which had thus far not found his father's ears, to their incredible luck. Carelessness would only speed up the process.

He side-stepped Sunday, approached the door of his chambers and gently pushed it closed until he heard the ever-so-quiet click of its lock.

"It's not been that long since I last fed, y'know," drawled the suddenly calm and somewhat cocky Prince as he turned to his sister, half-smile hinting that his own assumptions about her needs had left him in a state of amusement. "You're not addicted already, surely?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport

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Sunday pursed her lips at his remarks. If she had to think about it, he might be right, but she wasn't going to think about it. "It's Alice, She keep s making me remember," she said pacing. " She's too much like him sometime, Issac" she went on. "She can go days, weeks without a word and then suddenly the bombards me with images, memories...It's too much, I just want to forget." She said. " They aren't normal memories, either. Sensations, smells...tastes" She said, trailing off with the last word. She stopped her pacing and wrapped her arms around her. She could feel Alec's lips on hers as if it had just happened, taste the soda he'd drank moments before. It was easier for her to hate him if she didn't keep bringing up the good memories, the ones of a simpler time, where it was just them and the biggest problem they had was their parents finding out or worse, Grandmother.
She could have laughed but instead, she sobbed. Just once, before snapping her hand over her mouth. "Can we just? Surely you're hungry?" she said, her brown eyes glossy with unfallen tears. She wouldn't force him of course, but vampires where naturally insatiable creatures...so what if she exploited it just a little. It benefited both of then in the end.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport

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Unsurprisingly, Isaac had been expecting a stronger reaction after such a teasing question, but had little time to strike a second jab at her potentially wavering patience.

"It's Alice, she keeps making me remember," Sunday confided. As she began pacing back and forth, Isaac rested the weight of his upper body against the wooden door, watching her. "She's too much like him sometime, Issac."

The slight mention (or hint) of Sunday's former lover had him clench his jaw in annoyance. Much that he hadn't mentioned it, he'd always been distrustful of the young girl for that reason alone. She gave off a weird vibe, and he always made a point of avoiding being alone with her.

"She can go days, weeks without a word and then suddenly the bombards me with images, memories... It's too much, I just want to forget," she further explained. "They aren't normal memories, either. Sensations, smells... tastes."

Isaac shook his head, as if to dispel whatever foul thoughts threatened to dig their way in.

"Sunday," he murmured, before her choked sob stole the words straight out of his mouth. She truly wasn't okay, and his protective instincts kicked right in.

"Can we just? Surely you're hungry?"

Isaac gave it a moment, then nodded. "Hungry enough," he confirmed, pushing his weight off the door to close the distance between them. As always, there was a heavy knot in his stomach as he ventured over to her, be it nerves or something else entirely.

One hand moved to the right side of her jaw, pushing her face the other way, and another pulled at the leather jacket that covered her shoulder, exposing alabaster skin.

Standing so close, he could hear her quickening heartbeat and see the rapid rise and fall of her chest - near enough matching his own. The height distance between them meant he had quite a distance in which to lower his head, but soon enough his lips were hovering above her skin, parting wide enough to reveal extended canine teeth. There was a moment or two of hesitation, partly from self-preparation though he knew it would drive her crazy, before he allowed his teeth to break the surface of her skin.