Introduction
Bloodlines
The time when magic and reality were nearly synonymous has long passed. The ages have turned, and turned again, leaving the world a place where cold science dictates the laws of nature alone. Those without imagination call this progress. There is little mystery left in this sterilized age, but there are still secrets, whispers of a time gone by.
Magic lives on, struggling to take its last gasps, in the blood of a scant few. Long ago, when mankind became more and more numerous, those beings who were born of magic were faced with a choice: to continue living as they had, abusing and herding humans for their various reasons, for a few more turns of the pages, or to finally embrace that lesser-and-yet-somehow-greater race in order to survive.
Most of those creatures are now consigned to myth. They would not make concessions. Some were hunted into extinction for their gifts or because of the dangers they posed. Others simply faded away, unsuited for the world that emerged in the wake of The Mingling. That is what those who participated call it. Some did it in the old-fashioned way, others used more arcane methods, but the result was the same: these creatures joined with the greatest human families they could, ensuring that they would have a legacy of blood that persisted through the ages, keeping the spark of magic alive.
Such families rose to prominence, bolstered by the gifts their children bore. That was long ago, though. In the present day, such “families” are in fact many divergent bloodlines, scattered across the world and so diluted that the gifts breed true only a few times in each generation. Those who are found to have awakened to their heritage are drawn into the fold and protected so that they might one day draw in others and protect them, sheltering the fragile flame of magic for the cold, rising wind of progress.
These children of the ancient bloodlines are brought to safety in order to learn of their shared past and the future they must protect. They are allowed to nurture the strange abilities that have manifested within them, gifts of the blood, taught to harness them in the defense of what little remains of magic in this world. They are given their true last name, the name of the family that agreed to wed themselves to creatures of the night so long ago.
Magic lives on, struggling to take its last gasps, in the blood of a scant few. Long ago, when mankind became more and more numerous, those beings who were born of magic were faced with a choice: to continue living as they had, abusing and herding humans for their various reasons, for a few more turns of the pages, or to finally embrace that lesser-and-yet-somehow-greater race in order to survive.
Most of those creatures are now consigned to myth. They would not make concessions. Some were hunted into extinction for their gifts or because of the dangers they posed. Others simply faded away, unsuited for the world that emerged in the wake of The Mingling. That is what those who participated call it. Some did it in the old-fashioned way, others used more arcane methods, but the result was the same: these creatures joined with the greatest human families they could, ensuring that they would have a legacy of blood that persisted through the ages, keeping the spark of magic alive.
Such families rose to prominence, bolstered by the gifts their children bore. That was long ago, though. In the present day, such “families” are in fact many divergent bloodlines, scattered across the world and so diluted that the gifts breed true only a few times in each generation. Those who are found to have awakened to their heritage are drawn into the fold and protected so that they might one day draw in others and protect them, sheltering the fragile flame of magic for the cold, rising wind of progress.
These children of the ancient bloodlines are brought to safety in order to learn of their shared past and the future they must protect. They are allowed to nurture the strange abilities that have manifested within them, gifts of the blood, taught to harness them in the defense of what little remains of magic in this world. They are given their true last name, the name of the family that agreed to wed themselves to creatures of the night so long ago.
The five Bloodlines are as follows:
The Omarain (The Fae-Blooded)
The fair-folk have a storied history of making mischief in the world of man, even of exchanging their children for human babes. They were the strongest proponents of The Mingling, and the first to embrace a mortal line. Their royalty brought consorts into Faerie, and when they returned, their children were in part creatures of Faerie as well.
The Fae-Blooded have kept better track of their family trees than most of their fellows. They know where the blood is strongest, even of strongest is a relative term for perilously weak. Those with the blood can be recognized by their grace and agility, which are uncanny, and by their eyes, which are always a most uncommon color such as violet or silver. They are usually quite attractive and slim.
They awaken the gift of Glamour. Like their fae ancestors, they are alluring, charming, and manipulative. It isn't anything conscious, though when an Omarain does consciously try to get someone to do something, they generally succeed. It makes them the life of every party. They are also able to create illusions, though that skill can take years to master. At the most basic, a single sense or perhaps two can be affected for a short time. Proficiency generally entails illusions which affect all five senses and can persist for hours after the caster has left them behind. The greatest of the Omarain can create illusions that trap the mind forever, binding others in a world of their own creation. They are usually the "face" of the Bloodlines, adept leaders and ambassadors.
Their weakness is Bane of Iron. The touch of cold-forged iron causes pain that can easily drive an unfortunate Omarain insane. Blows dealt by weapons of the stuff are often fatal and in the very least crippling. So great is the enmity between the Fae-Blooded and that metal that they can practically sense its presence when within a few steps of it.
The Fae-Blooded have kept better track of their family trees than most of their fellows. They know where the blood is strongest, even of strongest is a relative term for perilously weak. Those with the blood can be recognized by their grace and agility, which are uncanny, and by their eyes, which are always a most uncommon color such as violet or silver. They are usually quite attractive and slim.
They awaken the gift of Glamour. Like their fae ancestors, they are alluring, charming, and manipulative. It isn't anything conscious, though when an Omarain does consciously try to get someone to do something, they generally succeed. It makes them the life of every party. They are also able to create illusions, though that skill can take years to master. At the most basic, a single sense or perhaps two can be affected for a short time. Proficiency generally entails illusions which affect all five senses and can persist for hours after the caster has left them behind. The greatest of the Omarain can create illusions that trap the mind forever, binding others in a world of their own creation. They are usually the "face" of the Bloodlines, adept leaders and ambassadors.
Their weakness is Bane of Iron. The touch of cold-forged iron causes pain that can easily drive an unfortunate Omarain insane. Blows dealt by weapons of the stuff are often fatal and in the very least crippling. So great is the enmity between the Fae-Blooded and that metal that they can practically sense its presence when within a few steps of it.
The Evincal (Dragon-Born)
The Evincal are the only reason that such an impossible beast as the noble dragon remains so prominent in the world of myth. They are proof that the dragons were indeed real, the oldest guardians of magic, the children of the elements. The dragons were among the most reluctant to join in The Mingling, but they were the least numerous and the most powerful. Their lifespans were such that a rushed decision seemed imprudent, but ultimately they realized the necessity of the move and used a potent ritual to instill their essence in a mortal line.
The Dragon-Born are the least numerous of the Bloodlines. If they had it their way, they’d likely all stand alone in the battle to preserve magic, but mastering spellcraft is difficult as a matter of independent study. They come together to learn; those who do remain outside the greater collective almost always find a mentor to study under, and then seek out acolytes of their own if they survive long enough to do so.
The Dragon-Born retain the most powerful connection to True Magic of all the Bloodlines. Each of them has an affinity for a certain school of magic: Alchemy (the creation of potions), Enchanting (imbuing or creating items with magical properties), Restoration (healing magic), Necromancy (control of the dead), or Divination (the ability to glimpse the future). Due to the degradation of magic as a whole, even the most basic application of their birthright requires lengthy incantations, and more powerful spells take the form of rituals that require hours or even days to complete. They are the mages of the Bloodlines.
Novices might be able to create items or potions with odd but slightly useful properties, heal minor wounds, speak with the dead, or have dreams of portent. Those with respectable training can create genuinely useful items, heal grievous wounds, compel the dead, or scry the future of a particular individual or event. Masters of dragon magic can create items of legend, bring people back from the brink of death or cure terminal diseases, animate corpses, or receive great prophecies.
The Evincal frailty is Draconic Arrogance. It is a frailty of temperament, rather than a physical disability or danger. There are many shades of it, but the Evincal manifest some flaw of personality no matter what. Some are overly reckless, others prone to terrible rage, and some even fall prey to crippling depression born of how far their kind have fallen. It is manageable, though duress will often heighten the effects of the frailty to dynamic proportions.
The Dragon-Born are the least numerous of the Bloodlines. If they had it their way, they’d likely all stand alone in the battle to preserve magic, but mastering spellcraft is difficult as a matter of independent study. They come together to learn; those who do remain outside the greater collective almost always find a mentor to study under, and then seek out acolytes of their own if they survive long enough to do so.
The Dragon-Born retain the most powerful connection to True Magic of all the Bloodlines. Each of them has an affinity for a certain school of magic: Alchemy (the creation of potions), Enchanting (imbuing or creating items with magical properties), Restoration (healing magic), Necromancy (control of the dead), or Divination (the ability to glimpse the future). Due to the degradation of magic as a whole, even the most basic application of their birthright requires lengthy incantations, and more powerful spells take the form of rituals that require hours or even days to complete. They are the mages of the Bloodlines.
Novices might be able to create items or potions with odd but slightly useful properties, heal minor wounds, speak with the dead, or have dreams of portent. Those with respectable training can create genuinely useful items, heal grievous wounds, compel the dead, or scry the future of a particular individual or event. Masters of dragon magic can create items of legend, bring people back from the brink of death or cure terminal diseases, animate corpses, or receive great prophecies.
The Evincal frailty is Draconic Arrogance. It is a frailty of temperament, rather than a physical disability or danger. There are many shades of it, but the Evincal manifest some flaw of personality no matter what. Some are overly reckless, others prone to terrible rage, and some even fall prey to crippling depression born of how far their kind have fallen. It is manageable, though duress will often heighten the effects of the frailty to dynamic proportions.
The Mori (The Infernal Brood)
Not all of the great races made the decision to enter into The Mingling unanimously. The demons were perhaps the most numerous of the ancients, and relied more than any other on humanity- as a source of sustenance. They took many shapes, but all of them dined on human sin and suffering. So numerous were they that they had several factions, all beholden to various archdukes in a hierarchy as baffling as any in human history. Only one of those greater demons elected to bind his destiny to mankind in a more concrete way; the rest wound up in a dark place, providing fuel for human religion and nightmare for millennia to come.
The Mori were instrumental to that banishment. Demons still exist, but only the weakest of them can slip through the cracks in their prison. The Infernal Brood enlisted the aid of the other families several times. They blend in seamlessly with humanity, save for when they call upon the power of their blood- then, their eyes become wholly black, and their heritage is undeniable. Some Mori spend their entire lives fighting against their dark nature, while others embrace it readily. The war against demonkind was not one of charity towards humankind, after all; it was one of survival.
The Mori are gifted with Infernal Vestments. Many different types of demons interbred with the Mori line, resulting in a panoply of different abilities manifesting among their distant relatives. The only common thread is the demonic nature of their powers. Some conjure hellfire, others can bind and compel (or even summon) their relatives from the pit. Others can manifest some demonic feature like wings or claws. They are easily the most diverse of the Bloodlines. Mori, with their various gifts, serve in different roles depending upon their gifts and natures.
Their demonic blood is also their downfall, for they are plagued with Demonic Taint. The Mori were not the only enemies of demons. The Christian faith has the most noteworthy history of battling dark things, but there are other hunters of those dark things as well. Holy symbols cause their flesh to burn, and exorcism spells meant to bind or worse affect them just as they would their full-blooded ancestors. Waving a cross or saying some words will not work in and of itself though; the wielder or speaker must truly believe in the faith behind the act.
The Mori were instrumental to that banishment. Demons still exist, but only the weakest of them can slip through the cracks in their prison. The Infernal Brood enlisted the aid of the other families several times. They blend in seamlessly with humanity, save for when they call upon the power of their blood- then, their eyes become wholly black, and their heritage is undeniable. Some Mori spend their entire lives fighting against their dark nature, while others embrace it readily. The war against demonkind was not one of charity towards humankind, after all; it was one of survival.
The Mori are gifted with Infernal Vestments. Many different types of demons interbred with the Mori line, resulting in a panoply of different abilities manifesting among their distant relatives. The only common thread is the demonic nature of their powers. Some conjure hellfire, others can bind and compel (or even summon) their relatives from the pit. Others can manifest some demonic feature like wings or claws. They are easily the most diverse of the Bloodlines. Mori, with their various gifts, serve in different roles depending upon their gifts and natures.
Their demonic blood is also their downfall, for they are plagued with Demonic Taint. The Mori were not the only enemies of demons. The Christian faith has the most noteworthy history of battling dark things, but there are other hunters of those dark things as well. Holy symbols cause their flesh to burn, and exorcism spells meant to bind or worse affect them just as they would their full-blooded ancestors. Waving a cross or saying some words will not work in and of itself though; the wielder or speaker must truly believe in the faith behind the act.
The Balaren (Lycanthropes)
Some of the participants in The Mingling elected to join not for the survival of magic, but for their own. The lycanthropes recognized the danger humanity posed early and sought to do something about it. They roved in packs, policing their territories and slaughtering humans like sheep. As the world grew smaller, their numbers dwindled, and mankind began to fight back. They fought the were-folk nearly to extinction.
The only way to recognize a Balaren is by their physicality. Each and every one of them is at the peak of human fitness, strong and fast and sturdy. They spread their genetic diversity much faster than the other families, if only because they were able to move freely among humanity and continue breeding. If there are any full-blooded werewolves still alive, they are well-hidden, and choose to remain so to their half-breed cousins. They are unique in another respect as well- in addition to breeding with humans, they bred with wolves as well. Human hunting has lowered their numbers dramatically, but every so often, a wolf-born Balaren is discovered.
All Balaren, regardless of their wolf or human stock, share an experience. Sometime after puberty, as late as middle age, some particularly emotional circumstance causes them to shapeshift involuntarily for the first time. A young boy being bullied might become a wolf and hunt down his tormentors, only to come to his senses covered with blood. The first change is always extreme, always carried by primal instinct. It is even more awkward for wolf-born Balaren, who end up as naked human beings forced to totter around unsteadily on two legs for the first time.
Their gift is Shapeshifting. The Balaren cannot assume the monstrous forms that haunt human memory, but they can transform. All Balaren can become wolves (or humans, if wolf is their natural form); the process takes a few seconds and is incredibly painful. They can also become something in between, stronger and faster, their features terrible, with wicked claws and dark hair accenting their lupine features. Of all the families (save for some particularly dangerous Mori), they maintain the most physical prowess and often undergo training for combat. They are the warriors of the Bloodlines.
Their weakness is The Moon’s Curse. They are vulnerable to silver, in a manner similar to the Omarain, but they are unable to sense the presence of that precious metal.
The only way to recognize a Balaren is by their physicality. Each and every one of them is at the peak of human fitness, strong and fast and sturdy. They spread their genetic diversity much faster than the other families, if only because they were able to move freely among humanity and continue breeding. If there are any full-blooded werewolves still alive, they are well-hidden, and choose to remain so to their half-breed cousins. They are unique in another respect as well- in addition to breeding with humans, they bred with wolves as well. Human hunting has lowered their numbers dramatically, but every so often, a wolf-born Balaren is discovered.
All Balaren, regardless of their wolf or human stock, share an experience. Sometime after puberty, as late as middle age, some particularly emotional circumstance causes them to shapeshift involuntarily for the first time. A young boy being bullied might become a wolf and hunt down his tormentors, only to come to his senses covered with blood. The first change is always extreme, always carried by primal instinct. It is even more awkward for wolf-born Balaren, who end up as naked human beings forced to totter around unsteadily on two legs for the first time.
Their gift is Shapeshifting. The Balaren cannot assume the monstrous forms that haunt human memory, but they can transform. All Balaren can become wolves (or humans, if wolf is their natural form); the process takes a few seconds and is incredibly painful. They can also become something in between, stronger and faster, their features terrible, with wicked claws and dark hair accenting their lupine features. Of all the families (save for some particularly dangerous Mori), they maintain the most physical prowess and often undergo training for combat. They are the warriors of the Bloodlines.
Their weakness is The Moon’s Curse. They are vulnerable to silver, in a manner similar to the Omarain, but they are unable to sense the presence of that precious metal.
The Navarene (Spirit-Touched)
Magic and nature have always been intricately bound. The spirits of the natural world were allies of humanity in its youth, helping them learn to live in harmony with the land. They were soon at war with them, though, when human nature lead them to despoil the wilds and enslave the elements to do their bidding. Those spirits entered The Mingling in a last attempt to bring enlightenment to mankind, and their ancestors continue to do so in the modern day.
Spirit-Touched often have physical characteristics that make them slightly resemble the element they have an affinity for. Those tied to earth might be built powerfully, slow and muscular. Those tied to wind might be thin and graceful, as fleet-footed as the racing air. They aren’t inhuman at all, at least in appearance.
More than any other Bloodline, Navarene often operate independently. Almost all of them know tragedy due to the awakening of their heritage, and many are forced into terrible circumstances as a result. Anywhere between the ages of 12 and 16, their birthright manifests powerfully, changing them forever. A fire that burns down the house and kills the family. A flood that leaves an entire town homeless. Hurricanes, earthquakes, electrical storms. Their power dwindles after that, and most Spirit-Touched are never able to harness it to that degree again. Many are driven mad by what occurs, but others are found by their own kind or other Bloodlines and brought into the fold.
Their gift is Elemental Fury. Each Spirit-Touched has a connection to elemental magic, a specific element, in fact. Fire, Ice, Water, Wind, Earth… and in the last few generations, more progressive elements such as Electricity, Light, or Shadow. Those unstudied in control of their ability can manipulate existing examples of their element. Proficiency involves actually being able to create it. Those most attuned to their blood may one day even become that element. Their mastery of elements makes them formidable in combat, but Navarene have no set role. A particularly feisty Fire-Touched might make a great leader, while a brawny Earth-Touched would almost certainly act more as a soldier.
All Navarene suffer from Elemental Affliction, a two-fold frailty. The first aspect of this weakness is that they are a bit more removed from humanity than their fellows. They often have difficulty with social subtlety. That isn’t to say they are unfriendly; they can be quite cheerful, but fail to grasp things such as sarcasm or body language. The second aspect is that their element is always reflected in their personalities. Those with an affinity for fire are often hot-headed, those who have bonds to water can be similarly placid. There are no strict guidelines for this part of the frailty; so long as it makes sense, any interpretation is fair game.
Spirit-Touched often have physical characteristics that make them slightly resemble the element they have an affinity for. Those tied to earth might be built powerfully, slow and muscular. Those tied to wind might be thin and graceful, as fleet-footed as the racing air. They aren’t inhuman at all, at least in appearance.
More than any other Bloodline, Navarene often operate independently. Almost all of them know tragedy due to the awakening of their heritage, and many are forced into terrible circumstances as a result. Anywhere between the ages of 12 and 16, their birthright manifests powerfully, changing them forever. A fire that burns down the house and kills the family. A flood that leaves an entire town homeless. Hurricanes, earthquakes, electrical storms. Their power dwindles after that, and most Spirit-Touched are never able to harness it to that degree again. Many are driven mad by what occurs, but others are found by their own kind or other Bloodlines and brought into the fold.
Their gift is Elemental Fury. Each Spirit-Touched has a connection to elemental magic, a specific element, in fact. Fire, Ice, Water, Wind, Earth… and in the last few generations, more progressive elements such as Electricity, Light, or Shadow. Those unstudied in control of their ability can manipulate existing examples of their element. Proficiency involves actually being able to create it. Those most attuned to their blood may one day even become that element. Their mastery of elements makes them formidable in combat, but Navarene have no set role. A particularly feisty Fire-Touched might make a great leader, while a brawny Earth-Touched would almost certainly act more as a soldier.
All Navarene suffer from Elemental Affliction, a two-fold frailty. The first aspect of this weakness is that they are a bit more removed from humanity than their fellows. They often have difficulty with social subtlety. That isn’t to say they are unfriendly; they can be quite cheerful, but fail to grasp things such as sarcasm or body language. The second aspect is that their element is always reflected in their personalities. Those with an affinity for fire are often hot-headed, those who have bonds to water can be similarly placid. There are no strict guidelines for this part of the frailty; so long as it makes sense, any interpretation is fair game.
Things You Need to Know
Your character is one of twenty who have Awakened to their bloodline within the last six months. They have been brought to the Isle, an island that is shrouded from the mortal world and has been since men began making maps by The Guardians, members of each Bloodline who protect and educate their charges. The island is fairly large, with cliffs, beaches, forests, and abundant wildlife. A thick mist hangs in the air off the coast, but the Isle itself is generally quite temperate.
The Compound is where the Isle’s residents spend most of their time. It was once a large fort, but the barracks have been converted into separate living quarters with more than enough room to afford privacy to each individual. Couples billeting is available upon request. While not exactly luxurious, the rooms have their own bathrooms. There is also a mess hall, a communal living area, and a fairly well-equipped gym in the barracks area. The Compound also features a fairly extensive supernatural library, though in a separate building which reading materials are not permitted to be removed from.
Your character can have Awakened at almost any point in their life, but please be sure to read your Bloodline entry thoroughly; some have fairly specific Awakenings, but even then, no two Awakenings are exactly the same, so feel free to exercise some creativity there. One or more of the Guardians or another Bloodline NPC of your creation will have approached your character and made arrangements to bring them to the Isle.
Daily life on the Isle is fairly fluid. Classes and training sessions follow no set schedule, as they are held whenever the Guardians other duties permit. Charges are encouraged to study independently or help one another, to explore the island, or to simply interact. Especially in the last six months, things have been lax, so bear that in mind if your character has been on the Isle for a while prior to the start of the story-line. If you ever have any specific questions about character creation or want to do something you feel might be too strange, please contact throne!
The Compound is where the Isle’s residents spend most of their time. It was once a large fort, but the barracks have been converted into separate living quarters with more than enough room to afford privacy to each individual. Couples billeting is available upon request. While not exactly luxurious, the rooms have their own bathrooms. There is also a mess hall, a communal living area, and a fairly well-equipped gym in the barracks area. The Compound also features a fairly extensive supernatural library, though in a separate building which reading materials are not permitted to be removed from.
Your character can have Awakened at almost any point in their life, but please be sure to read your Bloodline entry thoroughly; some have fairly specific Awakenings, but even then, no two Awakenings are exactly the same, so feel free to exercise some creativity there. One or more of the Guardians or another Bloodline NPC of your creation will have approached your character and made arrangements to bring them to the Isle.
Daily life on the Isle is fairly fluid. Classes and training sessions follow no set schedule, as they are held whenever the Guardians other duties permit. Charges are encouraged to study independently or help one another, to explore the island, or to simply interact. Especially in the last six months, things have been lax, so bear that in mind if your character has been on the Isle for a while prior to the start of the story-line. If you ever have any specific questions about character creation or want to do something you feel might be too strange, please contact throne!
Females:
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Valerie Poxleitner| Darcy Lilith Ratri (Navarene)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Blake Lively | Reserved (missjmiles)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Chloe Rose | Nila Loriette Pearce (Omarain)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Amber Heard | Drusa Deszled (Evincal)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Candice Accola | Hazel Ebony Highlynn (Omarain)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Shenae Grimes | Tally Roawn (Evincal)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Lyndsey Fonseca | Reserved (ilikepurplezebras)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Taylor Momsen | Erin Silver Alier (Mori)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Crystal Reed | Seph Winterfoot (Balaren)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Mary Winstead | Soren Corosa (Evincal)
Males:
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Chris Evans | Artemis Hulston (Navarene)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Matt Lanter| Graham Lennox (Mori)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Richard Madden | Markus Wright (Mori)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Mitch Hewer | Aaron Highmore (Omarain)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Zayn Malik | Omar Maria Media (Balaren)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Drew Roy | Daniel Sanderson (Mori)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Drew Van Acker |Reserved (AverageBear)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Grey Damon | Reserved (missjmiles)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Hunter Parrish | Renn Elliot (Navarene)
Bloodline: (Choose below) | Faceclaim: Nicholas Hoult | Wynston Watson (Balaren)
The Omarain (The Fae-Blooded)
Spot One | Aaron Highmore (throne)
Spot Two | Nila Loriette Pearce (sullenkiller)
Spot Three | Hazel Ebony Highlynn (arabella13)
Spot Four | Reserved (AverageBear)
The Evincal (Dragon-Born)
Spot One | Tally Rowan (ali_rox96)
Spot Two | Soren Corosa (skwidge)
Spot Three | Drusa Deszled (Sorella)
Spot Four | Reserved (ilikepurplezebras)
The Mori (The Infernal Brood)
Spot One | Erin Silver Alier (Mela)
Spot Two | Daniel Sanderson (brandedone)
Spot Three | Graham Lennox (nori)
Spot Four | Markus Wright (pieluver)
The Balaren (Lycanthropes)
Spot One | Seph Winterfoot (AugustAria)
Spot Two | Omar Maria Media (lom.conor)
Spot Three | Wynston Watson (wunderland)
Spot Four | Reserved (missjmiles)
The Navarene (Spirit-Touched)
Spot One | Renn Elliot (Attie)
Spot Two | Artemis Hulston (Elrith Eldwind)
Spot Three | Darcy Lilith Ratri (alxxxjames)
Spot Four | Reserved (missjmiles)
- Code: Select all
[font=georgia][center][size=220][b]Name here – use the one that would be on your character’s birth certificate[/b]
[i]The <Insert Your Bloodline Here> Bloodline[/i][/size][/center]
[right][img]gifgoeshereyoumusthaveallgifsnonormalsorry[/img]
[img]gifgoeshereyoumusthaveallgifsnonormalsorry[/img]
[img]gifgoeshereyoumusthaveallgifsnonormalsorry[/img]
[img]gifgoeshereyoumusthaveallgifsnonormalsorry[/img][/right]
[size=160][u]At A Glance[/u][/size]
[b]Full Name[/b]:
[b]Age[/b]:
[b]Birthdate[/b]:
[b]Gender[/b]:
[b]Sexual Orientation[/b]: (optional, remove if left blank)
[b]Bloodline[/b]:
[size=160][u]Personality[/u][/size]
[b]Likes[/b]: List at least five, but feel free to add more!
[b]Dislikes[/b]: List at least five, but feel free to add more!
[b]Fears[/b]: At least two
[b]Goals[/b]: At least one
(Here type up at least two good sized paragraphs describing your character’s personality. Give us an idea of how they view themselves, others in general, and their feelings on their place in the story-line. Things like typical moods and temperaments are also good, and feel free to add whatever you like!)
[b]Appearance Notes:[/b] If you do [b]not[/b] have anything that really sticks out about your character you are welcomed to take this part out. Example of something worth putting here: My character has bright purple eyes. Stuff like that.
[size=160][u]Capabilities[/u][/size]
[b]Bloodline Gift:[/b] Put in your character’s Bloodline Gift here. Some of them are fairly static, but others will require elaboration (choosing a school of magic, element, or infernal investment, for example). Also feel free to elaborate on your character’s views on the ability in question, or any corresponding quirks (such as an Omarain who excels at visual illusions, etc.)
[b]Bloodline Weakness:[/b] Put in your character’s Bloodline Weakness here. Some of them are fairly static, but others will require elaboration (choosing a personality flaw, etc.) Also feel free to elaborate on your character’s views on the weakness in question, or any corresponding quirks.
[b]Other Skills:[/b] Detail any other potentially useful skills your character has. Generally, these are acquired prior to the awakening of the bloodline. Maybe your character took weekly martial arts classes, or was a trained classical pianist. Elaborate as much as you feel you need to, but try not to go overboard in terms of raw skills. We don’t want to see any masters of the katana who are also born liars and world-class chess players.
[size=160][u]Biography[/u][/size]This is where you detail your character’s history, up to the point of being drawn into the story-line (and including any time spent at the academy prior to when we start). Childhood, family life, schooling, and the awakening of their Bloodline are all very important. Please also make sure to cover any abnormalities you might choose to inflict on your character. If they’re insane, how did they become insane? If they have a magical wasting disease, where did it come from? This section should be about 3-5 solid paragraphs.[/font]
The Rules
- Respect alxxxjames, throne, and each other! Please be mature and courteous.
- Face-claim switches are permissible provided that you clear it with alxxxjames first. Let’s try not to go overboard though.
- Reservations will only be made if you choose both a Bloodline and FC. Reservations last 48 hours.
- No killing or maiming other characters without consent.
- This is intended to be a literate, active RP. If you can’t get out 500 words for your character every two days, this probably isn’t the RP for you. Daily posts that are even longer can probably be expected, so you will fall behind if you aren’t around.
- PLEASE notify alxxxjames and/or throne if you will be away or can no longer participate in the RP. We will work with you to find an IC explanation for a disappearance or a suitable exit for your character.
- Feel free to use the NPCs in your backstories or for mood purposes in posting WITHIN REASON. You could have an NPC do something that makes sense within their description, or choose one to have brought your character to the Isle, but no attacking other characters with NPCs, etc.
- This RP will have plot. The early stages will be more about getting to know one another and training, but eventually, “stuff” will happen by GM fiat.
- Suggestions are always welcome! This is our first RP.
- To signify that you read these rules and understand them, please put an asterisk (*) in the Equipment section of your character submission form. You can take it out after you’re approved
- 84 posts here • Page 3 of 4 • 1, 2, 3, 4
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 17 authors
Upon setting down and setting up the alcohol, and finished with his makeshift speech, Renn had it in his mind that it probably wouldn't take long for the others to swarm around it and drown themselves. Okay, perhaps they wouldn't drown themselves, but even Renn would admit that it had been a past time for him at a younger age. But you're a different person now, in a different life. You can't do that here. Spinning around, he eyed the first to arrive and among them, found the curious maiden wyld. He let out a laugh as he saw her glance over the variety, because for whatever reason, the idea of her intoxicated brought a smile to his lips. When she finally glanced up at him, he winked at her. It wasn't a flirtation, but just something between them that let the other know they were watching out for them. They weren't extremely close, nor were they the best of friends, but once he'd gotten over his fixation with the fact that this girl had been an animal, he found out that he enjoyed spending time with the person she'd become. A friend.
"So... which one is the best? If there is a best, I mean. Is there something you prefer?" She asked him, and he leaned over to whisper mischievously in her ear.
"If I were you," He said, his voice low as his finger pointed to various bottles: the liquor, "I would stay away from those bottles." He then pointed over towards wine bottles, "You won't enjoy those much either. The taste is awful until acquired or accompanied by food." Finally, his gestures found the kegs and cups. "This stuff won't taste any better, but if you're going to explore your options, I would start with it. It's going to taste like piss, though." He shrugged at her, giving her a thumbs up and a mouthed, Good luck!
He did this best to gesture an appreciative thanks to the men who'd agreed to help him, and whether or not they noticed, Renn found the quickest route through the crowd to create some distance. It wasn't the people - though he didn't particularly like large crowds. No, this was the face that now, out of the illusion that Michaela had so created, he was aware of the rather large bonfire that had been set earlier. Fire. He hated the stuff, and with good reason. If it jumped and hit any one of his plants, his creations, they would turn to ash so quickly and the earth beneath them would be ... disgraceful. This was also a reason that he didn't tend to .. enjoy the company of people with powers such as Daniel. He was an alright enough guy, but when it came down to it, they were opposites and destined enemies as far as their powers went. Fire and Nature? No, thank you.
As he made his way down the path that lead to the surrounding trees and forest, passing by the others who'd shared his sentiments about parties and large crowds, until he found himself followed. Naturally, concern found it's way to the back of his head that it may be a charge who needed help with something, and being the present pseudo-guardian, he supposed he did have a sense of responsibility for the others. He believed in the system, in the regulations, and in keeping everyone safe on his watch. He was the perfect candidate for something like this - always on point. He would simply watch them from afar and intervene if it was necessary. - They were all mostly adults, though, weren't they?
But when he turned around, it was Darcy. Darcy. He felt a soft tremble beneath his feat as the pace of his heart quickened. Glancing from her face to the items she carried, he calculated the trouble he could get in to if he took the beer she offered. And the trouble he could get in with her if he decided not to take the beer. The pros and cons were just about even, however, as he figured things would be from now on, Darcy came out the winner. He reached for what was offered and attempted to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. He had not expected her reaction, though, at all.
"What happened on the beach?"
He wasn't sure what to tell her, or what she meant entirely. They'd enjoyed themselves, hadn't they? Maybe she hadn't, and it was all his pure pleasure? She must feel awful about it. Guilt ran down his spine, his brows furrowing. How selfish could he have been? Luring her out there, interrupting her music, and then demanding so much only to.. Well, what exactly had he done to piss he off?
"I don't want to run from you, but when you just left me..."
She took a step closer, as if fighting the barrier he metaphorically felt coming between them. That means she wants this, right? Is she trying to lure me, now?
"You just left me."
Then she stepped back, reclaiming the distance that had come between them, though her voice was obviously more even. It was as if Darcy were trying very hard, trying very hard to figure me out. Renn was thankful for that, honestly, but the back of his mind buzzed.. What did it want? You just left me, she had said. Oh, he'd thought, finally catching on. He nodded to her slowly, bringing up a hand to brush a stray few strands of hair out of her face. Truly, he'd done it because ever since the beach, Renn wanted any excuse he had to touch her. Even though she was upset, and she was wanting, and waiting for him to answer her, all Renn could focus on was the way his gaze continued to fall about her features. Her hair, her dark eyes, the tattoos that told stories all about her body.. Her body.
He remembered the beer in his hand and without thinking, took a few sips. Liquid courage, right?. He swallowed hard, taking it in before another few sips drowned his thoughts, and the nagging responsibility he'd initially felt. No, he didn't figure out what he'd done wrong, but it didn't matter any more. Not to 'not-so-sober' Renn. No thoughts of how to remedy the situation, to over-analyze it were in his mind. No thoughts of how a walking earthquake shouldn't be drinking, or how he may end up hurting someone who desired someone.. not as emotionally unavailable. He was starting to realize, starting to pick up on the signs. It wasn't just him, it wasn't just his desire. He could sense it from her, the way that the darkness seemed to envelope them, rather than separate them. She was transparent in the way her power controlled her. He decided, instead, to speak with what he knew best. It seemed to work last time.
"You brought me a gift. Like the flower." He grinned at her, looking down at the beer before taking another sip. That's what this was, right? "I don't think you understand how this works."
Renn took a few steps backwards, but his hand found hers, pulling her along with him. When he had her beneath the tree, next to the trunk, he released her hand to replace his own at her waist, attempting to keep her pinned. His voice was low, a whisper in the secluded world she'd created for them with her shadows, as he found her ear, "We both know I can't comprehend the severe disadvantage of power you have over me. So instead of speaking to me with words I don't understand... meanings I can't fathom..." He pulled back, looking in to her eyes as he spoke, desire laced in his words without his recognition. "Speak to me," He started trailing her hair with kisses, towering over her in height as his waist leaned forward, attempting to hold her there tighter, the pressure of his heartbeat apparent. He continued, "...in a way that I can understand."
The alcohol hadn't even hit him yet.
As he sat under the lofty tree, its branches reaching just over his head into the dark abyss of night, Omar couldn’t help but feel… alone. He had been alone only for the last two years; understandably, he was still getting used to it.
Omar heard himself silently whistle an old tune that he had picked up back in Toledo; it was probably originally a chant, but Omar didn’t know the lyrics.
“Hey Omar, wanna come to the Ghostyard and sit with me?” Her voice was somewhat soft and reserved, smooth and the tone only altering a few times in the span it took to say the sentence. Sinry’s nervous persona reached above him, and in the dark, seemed to unite with the darkness of the Earth to create one solid entity. One of Omar’s few friends.
Despite Omar’s inhibition to ever go near the Ghostyard, Omar felt honorbound by the invitation. Therefore, he almost resented his words as they spilled quietly from his mouth. “I-“ Omar stopped to clear his throat, which was dry from hardly ever being used. “I would like that.” Not really, but he would never reveal that.
Placing his feet flat on the ground before him, he shifted his weight and shot his head up. Successfully rising without using leverage besides the momentum of his own body, Omar began to shake the dirt and dust off his ass, and then turned to Soren.
Now, with perspective and proper lighting, she really looked beautiful. Almost stunning. [b]”Whoa,” Omar said, looking over her in the light of the Moon and the lamps, “if I didn’t play for the boys, you’d have yourself a suitor in me!” With the silliness of his comment, Omar gave her a slight giggle. He still remembered the first time he realized he liked boys.
He could see the glow on Sinry’s eyes and the look on her face. He wasn’t sure what she meant by it, but he assumed it was a sassy look like “Really?” To answer her, “You know, if my mother knew I liked you-know-who and not you, she would have hit me across the head and command me to marry you.” He giggled some more, waiting for the girl to lead them off to the Ghostyard.
The Cloistered Witch
Soren put one hand leniently on the pocket with Harvey’s lighter stashed away within, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly and her left eyebrow raising in disbelief. She tapped the bottle against her thigh lightly, waiting for him to finish what he was saying, in order to be polite. It wasn’t that she disliked listening to him, it was just the random comment was throwing her off.
A small almost mischief-like smile flickered across her features, gone as fast as it had appeared. “Voldemort!?” She put her hand up to her mouth in a mock gasp, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly before she shook her head, turning and leading the way down the well trodden path to the Ghostyard.
She glanced around for a moment. “So what have you been doing all day?” Her voice was loud enough to travel over the music that was still lingering within their range as the two walked further into solitude.
Sinry of course just expected him to talk as they walked, so walk she did. The sooner they got away from the large social gathering the better. The necromancer really disliked having to trek through one of the forests to get there, and she was still set on trying to find a different path. However, she rarely had the time to really go exploring for such a purpose, as she was always wrapped up in some form of training or another. (Or diving down stairs, or walking along window ledges, or crawling under furniture, or vaulting over random obstacles, or- well, you get the point, in pursuit of pencils.)
So the girl resigned herself to her fate every time and made the same trail to the place she knew best. And that’s where they happened to be now – on that very trail. The trees that surrounded the leaf littered path seemed to close in on the bodies that ventured to break their unspoken rule of silence and privacy; that they dared to speak out this night among them, to break their time of peace.
Soren actually didn’t mind her surroundings much. She knew the path pretty much like the back of her hand. Besides, she was a necromancer after all. The leaves shuddered and shifted as a breeze kicked up, running through or around anything that dared pose a hindrance to its path. Sinry gave a small yawn, noting that they were almost out of the tree cluster anyway.
As soon as the two broke out of the woods, the Evincal’s eyes darted across the clearing, scanning for anyone who was up. And by that she meant ghosts and the likes. There were only about three wandering the large expanse. Lips pressed tightly together, Soren led Omar towards the single tree which was the only prominent thing in sight.
She looked around the circumference of the tree, searching for a stick or something like one that she could use. Once discovered, she returned to the front of the tree, or where Omar was anyway, and stepped two feet away from him. Soren crouched down, her left arm resting on her left knee, and leaned forward, running the end of the stick through the terra until there was a somewhat deep line.
Flashing Omar a small half grin, she returned to her work, her head tilted slightly as she traced the stick through the soil which had been dampened and thus softened by the previous days' rains. However she paused for a moment, bringing the bottle of rum which she had been carrying to the close proximity of her foot. She set down the stick, and drew her pocket knife from one of the many pockets in her shorts.
The girl thumbed through some of the different tools before coming to the actual blade, proceeding to rest it against the plastic wrapping which surrounded the cap, slicing along the ridge carefully before removing it entirely. After about twenty-five seconds of attempting to wrest the cap off, she crawled back over to Omar and handed it to him expectantly.
She then turned back around, reclaiming her stick, and then resumed to continue in her drawing, a thoughtful and focused expression on her face as she recalled the images from earlier that evening. She only blinked every so often, as she didn’t want to lose the point at which she was at.
"Ah... I have... some cheetos in my room. I can go get 'em and be right back." Milo offered half-heartedly as Xylea waited patiently for an idea of something 'fun' to do. At the mention of the food Xylea's mind went into overdrive, Cheetos are orange... Oranges are fruit! And fruit is good for you! And before she could think any farther she blurted out "Cheetos are good for you, because they're orange!" with a wide smile and excitement buzzing off her body. Milo continued unblinkingly, most likely because he was used to the way her mind would hop ideas even as she spoke.
"I mean, I could bring a frisbee, too, if you're up for it... A couple of yo-yos...?" He looked at her, and she let her face grow serious as it occured to her that they were in a "deep" conversation. Or at least, she thought they were. Isn't that what conversations like this were considered? There was so much concentration involved, and she was really doing her best to not wander away. And not that she could really tell for certain, but Milo looked as though he was concentrating just as hard, so it had to be a serious topic they were discussing. Having come to this decision, Xylea finally removed her hand from Milo's forehead and put one finger to her temple as she scowled, adopting her "thinker" face.
She stood there a moment, with Milo watching her, and began to think over her two plans of attack. Frisbee. Flying disk made of plastic. Floaty, floaty, floats in the wind. WIND! I like the wind. She smiled lovingly to herself as she wrapped her arms around her torso. I love the wind and the wind loves me and I am the wind and... "Frisbee." The one word came out of her mouth with decisiveness and knowledge. If anyone had been listening, she would have sounded as though she were a judge stating a sentence. Having completely forgotten that there was even a mention of yo-yos at all, Xylea's large smile lit up the area around her with the glow of her self-indulged success. Then she looked at Milo, putting her hands on his shoulders as though she was about to tell him the most dire of secrets.
Taking in a deep breath, she looked from left to right, then deep into Milo's eyes and stated in a very excitable non-confidential voice, "I won't even cheat! Because I can you know? There was this one time when I was seventee--" Movement caught her eye and her hands dropped from Milo's shoulders as she turned toward the group of gyrating bodies. Her eyes widened as somewhere in the back of her mind something pricked about some movie she'd watched some time with ... some people... Then Daniel looked right at her and she smiled. It was her big "helloooo!" smiles that always went along with her pointer finger doing a bounce as if it were waving hello as well. He mouthed something about talking later, so she unceremoniously sat down were she stood. She watched as he danced for a little bit, waiting for him to come over. Waiting... waiting. Her fingers started tracing along the grass and her eyes grew wide. It was so prickly! Looking down she began to poke the tips of the spades wither her fingers, losing herself in the feel of the points as they pushed against her skin.
Then she noticed the little ants wandering around in the grass and she giggled with pure joy as it occurred to her they must be dancing too! They could hear the music after all, so why not? She watched them for a little while, enjoying their bug ball, then looked up to see if perhaps their dance steps matched those of her friends. Humming along to herself and swaying side to side as though she were still dancing, she caught sight of Dan again and frowned. Didn't he... say something to me...? She knew she'd seen him just a moment ago mouthing words in her direction... wasn't he? She couldn't quite remember at that moment, her mind having been so set on the cute little ants in their ant prom. Her grin turned goofy as, with the thought, she began imagining little ant bow-ties and tiaras. In her head she began a whole line of ant clothing, parading it out on little ant runways and selling it in miniature ant boutiques. Her eyes focused on Dan, but with her mind on ants, she stood. Determination set in her stance: It was time to create Ant Armani. She wasn't sure how but she would do it! Dropping one fist into the palm of her other hand she turned to go, and stepped right on the pile of ants.
She felt them faster than she could see them due to the skin of her foot being so intensely sensitive. Some squished, others scurried, but the worst were the ones that turned around and charged. She yipped and jumped back, a mixture of terror and heartbreak running through her. "I'm so sorry!! I"m so so sorry! I can send tiny ant-flowers to their funerals I promise!!" Wiping the tiny ticklers off her feet as she gracefully twirled away, she finally got them all off, flipped the hair that had fallen in her face back behind her and looked up. She was standing right in front of Dan now.
She laughed, the designer ant line and killer ant army pushed from her mind as one of her oldest and dearest friends smiled at her, "DAN!!!" She didn't quite have room to back up, but that didn't matter. She bent her knees, waited a millisecond, then jumped into the air. Pulling on the slight current of wind behind her to push her towards him, she hit him in the tackle/hug she'd always reserved for him. Even though he was only a foot from her, the force of her push had her body hitting his as hard as if she'd had the running start she usually had and she wrapped her legs and arms around him "Hi!!! How's you're night going!? I think oranges are my favorite fruit!" She beamed as she held him in a tight hug.
Hazel continued to listen to the up beat, party style music. She rubbed her hands together and shivered a bit. Her hair being a bit damp still she was a bit chilly, even though if you asked anyone else in the Isle, they would probably say the weather was perfect. But Hazel had a thing for being cold when its hot and hot when its cold. It was one the oddities that she possessed, but wasn't quite as noticeable as some.
She wrapped her black leather jacket around herself more and looked down at the ground playing with some grass. She looked up and saw the Navarene Guardian who had summoned them all to the meeting and now party, raise his hand to her and give her a friendly smile. Fleet walked over to her and stood over her and looked out into the crowd. ”We had a party here once before, but it was nothing like this,” He began to say. ”Can I sit with you? I didn’t think you’d mind, since you aren’t dancing with anyone or talking to anyone, but if you mind, that’s alright too.” He asked as he awkwardly stood over her.
Hazel didn't want to be rude and say no, but she also didn't want to say no. She had been hoping for one person to talk to. Hazel smiled kindly up at him and replied, [color=red]"No I don't mind. Thank you for asking Fleet. So is your ability like an air thingy?" She smiled sweetly at him. Hazel patted the ground next to her and grinned. She glanced at the crowd and saw Tally about to come over as well. Then Tally saw that Fleet had beat Tally to Hazel and Tally began to walk to the alcohol. Hazel grinned at Tally in a friendly way and waved over to her. She then brought her attention back to Fleet again and smiled at him.
She wrapped her black leather jacket around herself more and looked down at the ground playing with some grass. She looked up and saw the Navarene Guardian who had summoned them all to the meeting and now party, raise his hand to her and give her a friendly smile. Fleet walked over to her and stood over her and looked out into the crowd. ”We had a party here once before, but it was nothing like this,” He began to say. ”Can I sit with you? I didn’t think you’d mind, since you aren’t dancing with anyone or talking to anyone, but if you mind, that’s alright too.” He asked as he awkwardly stood over her.
Hazel didn't want to be rude and say no, but she also didn't want to say no. She had been hoping for one person to talk to. Hazel smiled kindly up at him and replied, [color=red]"No I don't mind. Thank you for asking Fleet. So is your ability like an air thingy?" She smiled sweetly at him. Hazel patted the ground next to her and grinned. She glanced at the crowd and saw Tally about to come over as well. Then Tally saw that Fleet had beat Tally to Hazel and Tally began to walk to the alcohol. Hazel grinned at Tally in a friendly way and waved over to her. She then brought her attention back to Fleet again and smiled at him.
"When am I not?" Elvis replied to Vendicare's inquiry charismatically, which would have granted a quick, low, rumbly "ha" in the form of a non-surprised laugh from Vendi, had the scent of a pine tree not alerted him to another entity walking up quickly after. Vendi let his face drop back into it's usual neutral expression as he turned to the demi-alpha respectfully. Renn was definitely making his way into Vendi's good graces, but he still didn't feel as comfortable around him as with Elvis. As Renn requested his and Elvis' help in retreiving something, Vendi nodded sharply once. He understood that when work needed to be done, it needed to be done. And when you're alpha asks, you hop to.
As they entered the room where all the boxes were stored, Vendi didn't pause for the lights to turn on. His pupils had grown extremely wide, dialating to let in as much light as possible, which made it easy for him to move about the room with dexterity. He allowed Renn to load his arms with boxes and boxes of clinking bottles until he carried much more than any normal man could take. He let his muscles flex, luxuriated in the feel of his sinews' movement, relished the weight on his biceps and trapezius as he exited the room. Once outside, he waited patiently through Renn's small speech, then only set the boxes down once Renn gave the word. He moved a few paces away and was comforted in a small way when he realized Elvis was still with him. He noted that he was growing quite comfortable with the younger man, which caused him to scowl in the smallest of fashions. Non è sicuro.
He blinked at Elvis as he brought the bottle of tequila over and swigged it on his own, passing it to Vendi, who grabbed it out of reflex. "So, Vendi, I was wondering... are you allergic to chocolate? You know, with the whole... dog-wolf thing in mind." Vendi paused and cocked his head to the side in thought. He'd never really been a fan of chocolate to begin with, it wasn't something he'd tried to eat even before the changing, so he'd never really given the idea much consideration. Deciding this was a good enough answer, he replied on a semi-shrug, "I don't like cioccolato." and left it at that.
As for the bottle in his hand, he'd had plenty of alcohol before, wine and such, growing up, then sticking mainly to beer once he'd turned. Simply because the scent of beer was less offensive than some more potent beverages. He'd never had this... 'tequila'... before though, so Vendi raised it to his mouth out of curiosity, keeping one eye on Elvis out of respect to the conversation. Before he even had a chance to sip the clear liquid he wrinkled his nose and quickly pushed it away again, stifling a gag. The strong scent had stung, causing his eyes to water momentarily. Raising one eyebrow he looked at Elvis, his deep voice grumbling, "Poison? Lupo veleno, is this?" He handed the bottle back as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, still scowling.
He turned toward the fire in surprise then as a veritable onslaught of pheromones hit him, causing a dizzying sensation to course through him. He'd never been able to notice pheromones before, but this was something other-worldly. He wiggled his nose to try and dispel the intoxicating smells but it was impossible. It was as though the hormone-inducers were seeping in through his skin. His blood began to race through his veins and he felt a heat begin in the pit of his stomach. Sicuramente non sicura! He knew this feeling, he knew this rush. He needed to move, needed to run until his head stopped throbbing. His face and body were calm, even as his muscles tightened in his fight to hold onto his control. He briefly wondered what had happened to the squirrel, a good chase and this would all be over. Then he saw Aaron, looking in the direction of the group he was near. Or was it right at him? He wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt as though it was time. The heat began to radiate out through his body from his core when he realized that something wasn't right, something wasn't normal. Taking a step back, he shook his head and looked to the ground. The ground was safe.
He breathed, in and out, arms crossed over his chest, until his body stopped raging. Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. Looking up slowly he realized how many people were now gathered around the boxes of distilled liquid and made up his mind. What had only been a minute had seemed like an eternity and his palms were sweaty. Which, truth be told, kind of grossed him out. Vend turned to Elvis and stated, "Birra." then moved over, deftly grabbed a Guinness, and moved back to Elvis. Popping the cap off without any help, he took a swig, then let his body relax again as the cold alcohol descended down his esophagus.
Daniel just wandered around the party, trying to find something now to do. He'd effectively banished the calling of his blood after having so much fun in this short while. He idly wondered if he'd ever be able to command his blood in the future, to wield his full power as his own, and not some extension of his ancestor. I really should start mastering my powers...I don't want to be a danger to my friends here if I ever lose control... He nodded to himself before watching the crowd of people once more. Daniel felt happy to be a part of such a large gathering, as his fellow Mori seemed split on.
As he searched among the sea of faces, he saw a myriad of different things happening. Elvis and Vendicare were at the drinks, with Seph standing there oddly enough. He'd have to watch out for her in the near future. Aaron was grinding against his partner, a fellow Mori, and the faint haze of arousal hit his mind as the Omarian's Allure hit him. Shaking it off he continued to look around, and idly noted that Milo had disappeared. To where, he didn't know, but that was quickly overriden by the sudden shout of his shortened name and the impact of a blonde latching onto him with a strength that had him chuckling.
He should have expected Xy's excitement whenever he was nearby. Not that Daniel minded of course, he loved the time they spent together as she was a breath of fresh air in his world, but the girl sometimes took it to a whole new level. It was refreshing. The impact, however, nearly took the breath out of him as he staggered backwards and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up. His smile though, was just as bright as her own once he stabilized himself. "Hey there Xy! Good to see you again." Once her rapidfire questions were asked, he responded in kind.
"My night's been pretty good Xy, so I can't exactly complain. Danced some with Seph, said hi to Erin, watched everyone have fun. It's been nice, nicer that I've had in a while." He just grinned to her as he spun the two of them around getting lost in her happy demeanor and smile. He remembered when the two of them met when they first came to the Isle around the same time. She hadn't changed a bit, and the pair had become the best of friends in that time. "Oranges huh? I'm more keen on pears myself. Why don't I find you some sometime?" He asked her and lightly bonked her forehead with his own in a playful manner. He was very much used to her hyper tendencies.
As he searched among the sea of faces, he saw a myriad of different things happening. Elvis and Vendicare were at the drinks, with Seph standing there oddly enough. He'd have to watch out for her in the near future. Aaron was grinding against his partner, a fellow Mori, and the faint haze of arousal hit his mind as the Omarian's Allure hit him. Shaking it off he continued to look around, and idly noted that Milo had disappeared. To where, he didn't know, but that was quickly overriden by the sudden shout of his shortened name and the impact of a blonde latching onto him with a strength that had him chuckling.
He should have expected Xy's excitement whenever he was nearby. Not that Daniel minded of course, he loved the time they spent together as she was a breath of fresh air in his world, but the girl sometimes took it to a whole new level. It was refreshing. The impact, however, nearly took the breath out of him as he staggered backwards and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up. His smile though, was just as bright as her own once he stabilized himself. "Hey there Xy! Good to see you again." Once her rapidfire questions were asked, he responded in kind.
"My night's been pretty good Xy, so I can't exactly complain. Danced some with Seph, said hi to Erin, watched everyone have fun. It's been nice, nicer that I've had in a while." He just grinned to her as he spun the two of them around getting lost in her happy demeanor and smile. He remembered when the two of them met when they first came to the Isle around the same time. She hadn't changed a bit, and the pair had become the best of friends in that time. "Oranges huh? I'm more keen on pears myself. Why don't I find you some sometime?" He asked her and lightly bonked her forehead with his own in a playful manner. He was very much used to her hyper tendencies.
Renn was confusing Seph, but he probably knew that. The winked he'd given her she'd come to recognize as meaning that he had her back... which, if he was doing that now, probably meant she should steer clear of the alcohol. Renn had become almost as helpful as Daniel or Aaron recently, as he'd started to see her more as a person, and less as a wolf. At first he had only been able to make her uncomfortable, asking her with his genuine curiosity what it had been like before she transformed, what being an animal was like. She knew he didn't mean to make her uncomfortable, but talking about her past wasn't something she was fond of. Anytime after that initial transformation was fine, but the year before... she hated even thinking about it.
But Renn had gotten over his curiosity, and as was only natural, her spending the majority of her time in human form caused him to eventually see her as a human, and not a wolf. Or perhaps not only a wolf. They'd become friends once he'd seen that there was more to her than the obvious unique aspects of her past.
And now he left Seph with another piece of his guidance, though she didn't quite know how to take it. She wanted to ask him more, but he was gone already, making his way away from the others. So she steered clear of the liquor. She came before the wine, which was apparently an acquired taste. She wasn't familiar with the phrase, and hadn't the slightest clue how one would go about acquiring a taste. It seemed to already have a taste. How could one acquire another? It didn't make any sense, so she moved on.
To the kegs of beer. Which apparently tasted like piss, from Renn's words. She briefly considered the implications of Renn knowing what piss would taste like, before deciding that line of thought wasn't going to end anywhere pleasant. None of this made any sense. If it tasted like piss, why would she drink it? She'd never drank piss before, but she'd smelled it, oh, she'd smelled it quite clearly, being a Balaren and all. And her past experience taught her that things that smelled bad typically tasted bad, too. But some of the others were doing it, so it couldn't be all that bad... right?
Best to get it over with, she decided, thinking that she'd used enough time over here by the drinks, and wanted to get back to dancing, maybe talk with Milo or Xylea, or just do something else. She snatched a cup up, filling it slightly the way she'd seen someone else do, and took a few precautionary steps away from the keg, as though it were indeed filled with piss and not beer. She held the cup firmly in both hands, lifting it to her face and taking a careful sniff. Not piss, she could tell quite clearly. It certainly smelled, though. Cautiously, she tilted the cup, and took a very small sip.
After taking a sip, she decided that Renn was lying. There was no way piss tasted like this. That said, it still wasn't satisfying at all, really, and it left this taste in her mouth... she didn't like it. Sighing, Seph decided that perhaps she would refrain from drinking anything tonight. Unless someone brought out some water or something.
Turning back towards the makeshift dance floor, Seph found herself more or less frozen by the sight. It was Harvey, and he was dancing with Something. His gift darkened the music, and the whole mood seemed to change somewhat. Harvey seemed to be enjoying himself, but Seph had learned that his enjoyment often came at the expense of others. Something didn't seem to be having a good time at all. It looked like she wanted to get away from him, actually. So why didn't she? If Harvey was doing something to hurt her, why didn't she leave?
Ugh, and here Seph had thought that Harvey couldn't make her angry tonight. He was really the only person who could do so, as she just didn't understand how he could enjoy doing the things to others that he did. She also felt frustrated that she didn't know exactly what was going on, and why Something looked so distraught. Come to think of it, their dance looked somewhat reminiscent of what some of the male wolves had done to those they'd chosen for mates... but converting anything wolves did to what humans did was extremely difficult.
And then he met her eyes, and he smirked, and licked his lips, and Seph suddenly found herself feeling uncomfortable, and a little indignant. He shouldn't be able to do this to people. Someone needed to stop him. And then Something was apologizing, and then they were making their way over to the drinks. And over to her. Something was leading the way, but she was bringing Harvey right to her. She was vaguely aware that she needed to say something.
"What were you doing?" she asked, unable to think of anything better to say. If there was some reason for what she'd just seen, she wanted to hear it. "Why did you do that?"
The Woman Trapped In Ice
“You really should stop fucking birds, Markus. It’s highly unbecoming.” Erin noted dryly, well aware that it was merely a nickname of his, supposedly describing women. Some may consider it an endearment, but this blonde knew better. It was entirely degrading on so many levels, especially from one such as Markus. Other men may think it sweet, but Markus wasn’t a sweet guy. Nor was he the romantic. Nope, this Mori assessed women much like a man in the 16 hundreds would. Women were delicate, weak creatures, or something along those lines. That’s why they were “birdies”. Or maybe Erin was over-analyzing things. She couldn’t say she cared much for that, or the ‘nickname’ in itself all that much, so she managed by throwing in a dry comment or two when they were practically handed to her – like just now. She was not in any way a fan of men who regarded women with such carelessness. Then again… wasn’t most of the males she talked to, like that? Did she feel comfortable because she knew she’d never fall for them? Here we go again.. over-analyzing, she chastised herself, ignoring Markus’ eyes on her body all the while.
At his ‘offer’ of carrying her, Erin smiled sweetly – so sweetly that it was in all ways, and very deliberately so, fake. “Oh, honey,” she drawled, voice liquid honey before it immediately fell away, leaving the same icy exterior as before and she snapped, “my inches are just fine.” Then she pulled her heel out of a particularly soft patch of earth and glared at the shoe. Oh, this was just great. She heard Irayah snicker in her head, and Erin’s eyes snapped up to glare at the cat too. ”Just stop being so moody – it’s only going to amuse him more. And you know that the more annoyed you get, the worse he’s going to become.” Irayah’s female voice rang smugly. Oh, if Erin could strangle the demon kitten right now, she would. ”I’m sending you back to hell, you unruly little demon spawn.” Erin telepathically snapped back at the black thing. She wasn’t going to, of course. For some reason, Erin couldn’t make herself part with Irayah, no matter how annoying she was at times. Maybe because she Erin’s only guarantee of not ending up completely alone for the rest of her life.
She followed Markus onto firmer ground and almost sighed in relief. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, though. No way. Markus was a dickhead and you didn’t give dickheads ammunition. Gods, did that sounds wrong or what? The music from the ‘revelry’ fainted with the covered distance and Erin was suddenly very, very grateful for Markus and her being likeminded on this particular topic. If everyone was going to act like Aaron, she would have ended up killing herself in defeat. Or most likely drowning herself in a last, desperate attempt to swim away from all the insanity. She looked around her as Markus said something about them being free. She didn’t really pay attention. Erin wasn’t usually beyond the compound. She was in her room or with her guardian most of the time. Sometimes she was out and about to get fresh air, and then she’s usually end up socializing with one group or the other, depending on her mood. She’d been in the forest only twice since she’d arrived 7 months ago. She didn’t really have time to wander off like that. Wandering off didn’t help quiet her darkness. Panting did, and she didn’t have her things in the forest.
Then Markus spoke again and she smiled wryly – couldn’t help herself. He was such an idiot. Yet he was dead-on. Something was on her mind, even if it had nothing to do with whether or not to fuck him. Geez. She raised an eyebrow, the mocking smile still in place. Then she took a step towards him, bringing them just close enough for them to be able to proper distinguish each others’ eye colours and crossed her arms, making her chest pop. “Someone’s-“ she began, her voice that classical “you’re about to be bitch-slapped verbally”-tone she donned on most occasions with Markus. She was stopped, both verbally and physically when he held out his hand and spoke though, and Erin tilted her head slightly, regarding him with bored interest. She didn’t say anything, but she did stop, and watched – merely looked at him. Nothing more, nothing less, her face giving away nothing. He was up to something. She had a feeling this was what he’d intended when he’d first asked her to join him for a walk, but she still had no clue what it was.
Soon, Markus was leaping off the ground, wings of bloody skin shooting from his back to carry him to the top of the rock before her. Erin merely raised her eyebrows in subtle surprise. Inwardly, though, the cogs in the blonde’s head were turning as she assessed the situation. Alright, her current companion had just assumed demonic features. She hadn’t really wondered much about what Markus could or couldn’t do. She hadn’t really cared, either. It wasn’t like she went around telling people what she could do. In fact, Erin was fairly certain only Daniel and the guardians knew exactly what her power was. Others might have educated guesses of some kind or another, but that was their deal. Erin felt no need to advertise. She was surprised at Markus’ little show, but she wasn’t disgusted, nor was she scared. She’d honestly seen much, much worse. What was a little blood compared to what she saw in her nightmares? Hell, compared to what she’d already seen in waken condition. People having had their hearts ripped right out of their chests, blood soaking their surroundings – the heart completely gone.
Erin had gone down memory lane when Markus spoke, and she had to blink a couple of times to zone back in on the world she was currently in. She shook herself out of it; it was in the past. She hadn’t seen a dead body since before she came to the Isle. So, deciding that the now was more important, Erin looked up at her fellow Mori. She regarded his outstretched hand with suspicion, however. Markus was a jerk, no disguising that fact. It would be like him to take the hand back if she tried to take it; childish as could be. Then again, he was curious. She could tell as much, so he might just behave… as much as Markus was able, anyway. Then she smiled wryly and shook her head as she walked over to him. Erin stopped beside his hand, considering. Did she really want to do this? Then another thought hit her. What if he left her up there? She’d be able to get down, sure, but… it’d take longer and she’d have to find her way back alone. She hadn’t really noticed their path. She tilted her head a little, watching him thoughfully. Then she sighed, reluctant, and took Markus’ hand, letting him drag her up if he wanted to. Irayah jumped easily off her shoulder and began making her way up the rocky formation. “My ‘pretty little noggin’ usually likes to keep its ‘miscreations’ to itself. What makes you think it’ll suddenly start sharing now? And don’t say it’s because of your winning charm, because you have none.” Erin noted dryly.
Holding Markus’ hand was weird. She didn’t usually have physical contact with people who weren’t Daniel. Not in a very long time, anyway, and then with Markus of all people? She could almost hear her darkness cheering her on, wanting as much of a connection with the other Mori as possible. When she touched Daniel, it practically screamed in protest and she hadn’t even done more than a short hug. Well, on her part. Daniel touched her more often than she did him. Little things, but they told her he cared in a way he shouldn’t. Not with her. He deserved to live; he deserved so much better than her and she was going to make sure he got it.
”That’s great! That you don’t mind, I mean. And my power isn’t like an air thingy, it is an air thingy! He dropped himself down into a crouch beside her, not actually sitting. He didn’t like sitting, especially not against a wall. He liked to have open space all around him, so he was just to her side, maybe six inches from the wall, but angled to face her. He bounced a bit on his heels and rested his arms across his thighs. ”I can do all kinds of stuff with air.” Her question had utterly derailed the story he’d been about to tell about the last party on the Isle. His mind only had room for so many topics at once- well, one topic at once, really. He was smiling though, quite enthused. ”I’m not sure what would be like an air thingy. Maybe a water thingy? That’s kind of like an air thingy, because liquid is more like gas than solid. I guess fire is kind of like air too, except it EATS air, and I don’t like that.” His eyes narrowed, and he gave the bonfire a dirty look, as if it might have offended him somehow. If any actual person had ever managed to offend Fleet, it had gone unmentioned and undocumented.
He saw her wave, and followed her eyes to Tally. He waved at her as well, lifting his right arm from his thigh and flapping it dramatically at the Evincal girl. Quite suddenly, his cheery grin wilted, turning into a heart-breaking frown. ”The Navarene Guardian was a Water-Touched. Her ability was like an air thingy, because it was a water thingy. I miss her all the time, when I remember to.” Despite it having been explained to him several dozen times that he was, in fact, the current Navarene Guardian, the Wind-Touched still didn’t quite seem to grasp it. His gaze dropped to the dirt in front of him, but then he lifted his head and tilted it, regarding Hazel. ”Wasn’t it sad when all those things Michaela made went away? I don’t like being sad.”
Just like that, he wasn’t. As if someone had flicked a switch connected to his mouth, he was smiling again. ”I’m glad we’re having a party. We had a party here once before, you know. It was nothing like this though. It was when Matt and Arietta got engaged. There was a lot of yelling, I hope there isn’t a lot of yelling tonight.” He shook his head. ”Yelling is just being sad except louder, s’far as I can tell.” He reached down with his left hand and extended his finger, drawing a frowny-face in the dirt.
He’d forgotten about the chocolate bar entirely while the Omarain Guardian made her presentation. By the time it was over, what remained of it was half-melted all over his hand, done in by his own body heat and that of the bonfire roaring nearby. A scowl had developed on his lips, washing away any traces of awe that would otherwise have been left over from the illusions she’d conjured. He’d become preoccupied with the standing wolf-creature, the one that towered over everything else but the sorrowful dragon. If he could become something like that…
But he couldn’t. His lycanthrope blood was thin. His war-shape was a paltry imitation of the monster that the faerie woman had showed them. That was the stuff of nightmares. No wonder humans were so afraid of werewolves, even after how ridiculously they’d been portrayed for years in the media.
All of that, and then the announcement, like it was some kind of gift or something, that they were going to have a party. Can we just skip to the training? he wanted to ask. He was sick of laziness. Running around the forest was fun and all, but he wanted to see what he could really do with his gifts. He’d sized up all of the other charges and found them wanting, save for very few.
He lifted his hand to his mouth and began to lap it clean of chocolate. An involuntary twinge went through him when Aaron’s music began. He quickly looked anywhere but at the Omarain. He’d learned before that it was easier to not feel anything he didn’t want to if he wasn’t actually looking at him, especially when he was dancing. The catchy little tune cut right into his brain, and he nearly growled as he quickly chomped down the rest of his chocolate bar and shot to his feet. The movement of shadows and his peripheral vision told him that a group was forming up to dance, but apparently he wasn’t the only one who didn’t intend to get his groove on.
Where had Matthew gone? He’d missed him taking off, whenever that had been. Matthew was about the only person around who he actually had any respect for. He looked around for his next favorites. Elvis was being taken by Renn somewhere, the only Balaren competition he had was going with them… His looking around meant glancing Aaron’s way, and for the brief instant that his eyes skimmed over that blond, dancing form, he felt his pulse trying to conform to the beat of the song, felt his fingers begin to tap away on his thigh to the rhythm. No, he told himself, his voice in his mind a guttural growl. His body and mind were his own. He wasn’t going to submit to the charms of Glamour unless he wanted to, and he decidedly did not want to.
By the time he was through wrestling for control and imagining Aaron with a pair of wolfish jaws clamped around his neck (not killing him or anything, just forcing him to be still and silent for once in his life), Elvis was back. Wynston turned and headed toward where they were setting up the alcohol. His features were practically blank as he approached in his dirt-and-grass stained clothing. He nodded to Elvis, and then nodded even more slightly to Renn, and then finally initiated a stare-down with Vendicare. He wasn’t going to break it, so it would be up to the Italian Balaren to do so… or to move the challenge up to the next level, the level where someone ended up on their back or their belly. Wynston was fine with either result.
Seph didn't even warrant a glance. She might as well not have been nearby, for all the attention he seemed to pay her. He was vaguely aware that she was talking, that she moved off to speak to the asshole Omarain, but he didn't need to acknowledge her existence to know that.
He could see the thoughts running through that head as he examined his blonde companion with obsidian eyes. His wings flicked, impatient, as if they had a life of their own. Which very well could be true. Then she finally decided to take his hand, and he grinned. It was a shame that he hadn't phased her yet, but the night was still young, and he was adept at his game. Of course, Erin was a Mori. Which made the challenge all the more difficult; all the more appealing. The man gripped her hand in one of his, bracing himself with his other hand against the rock. Once he got her halfway up the rest would be easy, his wings counterbalancing her weight and the force of gravity. As he pulled her up he shifted into a crouch until she was sitting next to him on the rock.
He sighed triumphantly, For a couple moments there he'd thought that he was going to drop her, but he hadn't. Before he answered her snark/question, he made an examination of his wings. He hadn't tried too particularly hard, and the results of that were showing. he poked the raw flesh with an irritated finger, and it pulsed back at him. No scales today. They were heavier though. Pros and cons to that. Pros and cons. The Mori turned his attention back to Erin, quirking a self assured grin. He was stabbing into the dark, but once Markus got something in his head there was no doubt in the forefront of his mind that he was wrong.
"Well, sweetheart. I know you. We're alike, you and I. And I wouldn't follow anyone into the woods unless I was going to get something out of it. And don't tell me that it's just because you didn't like Aaron's music or some bull like that, darling, because then you could have just skulked back inside. I'm sure your precious puppy Daniel would have followed you." As the man spoke, his wings were busy withering, a gangrene black spreading across them, shrinking them until they melded seamlessly into his back again. He pulled his shirt back on, the bloody cold was starting to get to him, followed by his jacket, before continuing. "You want something that I can give you." He leaned back against the tree, folding his arms of his chest lazily, his blue eyes fixed on Erin like he was hunting her.
"Of course, if you don't want to tell me for nothing, we can make a trade. I'll tell you a story, then you tell me what's on your mind, eh?" Phase two initiated. Markus dug in his pockets to see if he had anything to make his little story more interesting. It was quite clear that he was going to tell his story whether she liked it or not. It was her fault for dallying. Aha! From his coat, Markus withdrew his lighter. One of his lighters. He had many, even though he didn't smoke very often. he just liked lighters. And fire. Of course.
"Once upon a time," The man began as he pulled the lighter apart, looking quite serious except for the gleam of amusement in his eye. "there was a little boy. He had two parents that loved each other, and they loved God. They carefully taught their little boy everything they wanted him to know, everything they wanted him to do so he could be perfect." As he spoke, Markus's eyes dropped from Erin and onto the stone between them. In a quick motion he spread lighter fluid in his desired pattern and began to reassemble the silver object with sure fingers. "They didn't know that his very blood was tainted. But they discovered their son's deformity when he, trapped in the corner of his room, about to be punished for something he didn't do, discovered his blood and transformed into an amazing monster." Markus reached down and lit his lighter fluid cross on fire. The fire spread across it's allotted area quickly, then disappeared, its fuel eaten away all too quickly. "They fled, but returned when the little boy couldn't hold the body any longer. The father wielded a cross, struck the boy down, holding it to his son's throat, intent on forcing the young lad's head to part company with his body. If they couldn't have their perfect son, they were perfectly fine with having no son at all. The boy wasn't too pleased with that."
Markus leaned back again, returning his lighter to his pocket. "He taught them why they shouldn't mess with a Mori." He said darkly, quite aware of the lie he was implying. Then he stretched and grinned. "Then end. Now it's your turn, doll." he said as he folded his arms behind his head, looking pleased with himself. It was quite a good rendition, if he did say so himself. He'd need more lighter fluid though, he'd nearly exhausted his supply with his pretty little drawing. "And if you don't tell me, then I'll have to irritate you out of your mind until you do." He said cheerfully. "And you and I both know that I'm quite good at that."
Tally scurried away, and Artemis had a strong urge to chase after her, pull her close and, he shook his head while casting a glare at Aaron, “You’re causing trouble there mate…” he commented but doubted anyone would hear him. But, having gotten himself settled he just sat back and watched the others for a bit. They were all having great fun so Artemis decided to let them be for the moment and headed off toward the fortress interior. He returned a few minutes later with several boxes and left again in the same direction, after a few trips he’d retrieved a table, several plates of party foods and snacks, some non-alcoholic beverages, and his last trip consisted of a cooler, and a bag of ice slung over his shoulder. This was abnormal as typically the Isle was rather strict on supplies, but Artemis had made a point to catalogue what he’d take and would allocate more to the food budget to make up for it, Michaela had told them to enjoy themselves and he could tell from the look on several faces that many were probably getting hungry, dancing and just generally being up later than usual was no doubt to blame.
He laid out the fare on the fold out table next to the beverages and the alcohol and retrieved some plastic table ware from the first two boxes he’d brought and then just stepped away, letting the ravenous teens at it as they say, though he grabbed a few finger sandwiches himself before moving over to get a beer. He didn’t normally drink; he just had a Yingling (he kept a stash in his dorm) with Simon every now and then, maybe Renn if the other young man needed to unwind. The brand here was not his favourite but it would do for a buzz, and that was the point of drinking after all, that and socializing. His strange mind went to work as he took a bite of one of the sandwiches wondering why all this food and drink had been so easy to find, and why the kitchens had been unlocked. Maybe it was just Fleet had unlocked it but why had the prepared foods been ready? A smile crossed his face as he instantly recognized that someone, probably Michaela, had intended for this. Hell, she might have even implanted the idea of gathering the food for the party in his head during her display, as he’d been contemplating it subconsciously for a while, “Check and Mate.”
Artemis hadn’t really re-joined the others yet but as Seph came over and tried some beer he took note of her, she was newer to the island compared to most of Artemis’ friends and they didn’t speak much socially beside a kindly hello in the hallway, still he knew her name, much like he knew of most of the new arrivals, and he couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle at the face she made at her no doubt first drink of alcohol, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” he asked with a nonchalant grin, clearly he really couldn’t care less about that, “It’s not the best tasting, but it’s the effects most are after…” he was careful to be lack and seemingly sluggish when talking to her, having learned that she was a Baleran he knew much about how body language spoke volumes for regular people and could only imagine someone who could change to a form with almost all communication being non-vocal. He had noted that she seemed skittish around him, and so he was careful not to give her any cause for concern.
He couldn’t help but follow her eyes over to Harvey and Something coming their way. Something was a kind enough person form the look of her, but Harvey, he was someone who gave Artemis pause. He was cautious around all like him, but that guy particularly rubbed him the wrong way second only to Markus. Artemis stood a little straighter. Harvey might not have seen Artemis near Seph before, after all he had been sitting a few minute s prior across the yard and after that bringing out food. He had no doubt his presence would not give the man pause over causing trouble, but if Artemis was nearby he could keep an eye on it.
He laid out the fare on the fold out table next to the beverages and the alcohol and retrieved some plastic table ware from the first two boxes he’d brought and then just stepped away, letting the ravenous teens at it as they say, though he grabbed a few finger sandwiches himself before moving over to get a beer. He didn’t normally drink; he just had a Yingling (he kept a stash in his dorm) with Simon every now and then, maybe Renn if the other young man needed to unwind. The brand here was not his favourite but it would do for a buzz, and that was the point of drinking after all, that and socializing. His strange mind went to work as he took a bite of one of the sandwiches wondering why all this food and drink had been so easy to find, and why the kitchens had been unlocked. Maybe it was just Fleet had unlocked it but why had the prepared foods been ready? A smile crossed his face as he instantly recognized that someone, probably Michaela, had intended for this. Hell, she might have even implanted the idea of gathering the food for the party in his head during her display, as he’d been contemplating it subconsciously for a while, “Check and Mate.”
Artemis hadn’t really re-joined the others yet but as Seph came over and tried some beer he took note of her, she was newer to the island compared to most of Artemis’ friends and they didn’t speak much socially beside a kindly hello in the hallway, still he knew her name, much like he knew of most of the new arrivals, and he couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle at the face she made at her no doubt first drink of alcohol, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” he asked with a nonchalant grin, clearly he really couldn’t care less about that, “It’s not the best tasting, but it’s the effects most are after…” he was careful to be lack and seemingly sluggish when talking to her, having learned that she was a Baleran he knew much about how body language spoke volumes for regular people and could only imagine someone who could change to a form with almost all communication being non-vocal. He had noted that she seemed skittish around him, and so he was careful not to give her any cause for concern.
He couldn’t help but follow her eyes over to Harvey and Something coming their way. Something was a kind enough person form the look of her, but Harvey, he was someone who gave Artemis pause. He was cautious around all like him, but that guy particularly rubbed him the wrong way second only to Markus. Artemis stood a little straighter. Harvey might not have seen Artemis near Seph before, after all he had been sitting a few minute s prior across the yard and after that bringing out food. He had no doubt his presence would not give the man pause over causing trouble, but if Artemis was nearby he could keep an eye on it.
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Hazel kept her eyes locked on Fleet as he talked about an interesting story from the past. She watched him crouch down and face her, but she noticed he avoided touching the wall and not completely sitting. She was going to question him about it, but felt it would be offensive to him and a bit rude to interrupt him while he was talking so happily about a topic that he seemed to be dying to someone. She found it sweet how he acted so much like a little kid.
She giggled at his excitement then quickly quieted herself as she saw him get sad. She got up from her spot and knelt in front of him. She watched as he suddenly went from sad to suddenly happy then ok. She looked down as he drew a frowny face in the dirt. She bit her lip and jumped up, wrapping her arms around him. She smiled and kissed his cheek and blushed slightly. "Awh Fleet. Well you know some people yell when they get excited or happy about something. It's not always sad, you shouldn't be sad."
She giggled at his excitement then quickly quieted herself as she saw him get sad. She got up from her spot and knelt in front of him. She watched as he suddenly went from sad to suddenly happy then ok. She looked down as he drew a frowny face in the dirt. She bit her lip and jumped up, wrapping her arms around him. She smiled and kissed his cheek and blushed slightly. "Awh Fleet. Well you know some people yell when they get excited or happy about something. It's not always sad, you shouldn't be sad."
Darcy Lilith Ratri
The evening seemed far from perfect at this point in Darcy's mind, so she didn't expect Renn to actually try to show her any affection. She quickly darted the sign that he cared by taking a step by. This was far from the way things were going inside her head when she had played through the scene in her head. She wanted to get to the bottom of the incident on the beach and standing here wasn't going to help. With every word that came out of her mouth, she watched Renn's expression change from hurt to confusion faster than she could keep up. This was beyond frustrating to her, so she decided that she should just go. She wanted to leave Renn like he had left her.. Just standing there.
But even Darcy knew she wanted Renn more than anything. Feeling him brush the strand from her hair, she let herself fall into the touch more than she wanted. She didn't want him to see the need she had for him, so this was harder for her than expected. She straightened back up before he could tell that if he really wanted her that she was all his. She knew he hadn't noticed her need because he started drinking again. She had yet to take a sip from her own, so she tilted it back and downed half with no problem. She smiled as the burning reached her stomach. She needed this to get through this conversation. "You brought me a gift. Like the flower." His words weren't expected, so a nod would have to do as a response. "I don't think you understand how this works."
His words confused her more than helped her understand the situation at hand. "Then how does it?" Her voice was just higher than a whisper because she felt like the whole world would hear everything they said. She didn't want people to see how much she just wanted Renn because then that would be her weakness; him. He seemed to be drinking more than she thought he would, so when she felt herself being tugged farther away from the crowd her heart found her throat. She felt like this moment would make up for any moment that would go wrong for them. She anticipated where this was going. She felt her breath hanging by a thread as she looked into Renn's eyes, searching for the meaning of it all. It all went by too fast as she felt herself pinned against the tree. She tightened as she felt his hands find her waist.
"What are you doing?" Darcy tried to push against his hands, but he kept her there. She felt anger boiling deep within her, but something deep down made her want to stay. She guessed it was the fact that he was touching her.. That he wanted to touch her. That he had purposely touched her. "We both know I can't comprehend the severe disadvantage of power you have over me. So instead of speaking to me with words I don't understand... meanings I can't fathom..." His eyes were absolutely breathtaking as the enveloped her entire being with their stares. She wanted him more than anything right now, but knew this wasn't how she wanted things to go. Speak to me," The kisses were making her fall into his trap of desire where he had decided to lead them. She wouldn't be able to stand much more of this, and with the placement of his hips against her's she was done for. Her heartbeat seemed to match with his as he continued, "...in a way that I can understand."
Darcy let herself be at the control of Renn at this moment, but knew she didn't want this to happen. She had just been about to kiss him when the feeling of doubt flooded through her. "I can't do this." She repeated the phrase a hundred times it seemed like until her eyes connected once more with his. "I can't.." She licked her lips, reaching up to touch his. "..I won't." With her eyes locked on Renn's lips, her body pushed against him until their lips met. Her darkness began to intensify as she kissed him over and over again until finally pushing him back. She stood frozen as she wanted more. She wanted all of him...now. With her breath slowing, she finished the rest of the beer until the bottle was completely empty. "I need something stronger, so I'll do something I shouldn't." Her lips formed the most direct smirk that she knew Renn would be able to read even in his state.
Harvey Mak Chinnen
What a fucking disaster of dancing.. Harvey wanted to grab Something up and apologize, but she'd done enough apologizing for the both of them to enjoy the fuck out of him. He had been dragged away from the scene that had played out horribly to the drinks. He wanted to just walk away, but he couldn't do it to Something of all people. He needed to drink the embarrassment she'd caused them both. "I need whiskey." He reached over her shoulder to grab the obvious bottle of whiskey in front of her. "Here. Calm down." He grabbed two small shot glasses, filling them with the whiskey. "And please for the love of god, quit apologizing." He brushed his hair out of his eyes, taking back the shot quickly. He filled it up again, taking the second shot just as quick.
With two shots in him, Harvey knew his nerves would smooth over. He didn't realize the crowd around the drinks until he looked around. He sighed as he noticed all the eyes falling on him and Something. "What the fuck are you looking at?" His remark was thrown at everyone until he heard Something speak up. "Oh, do you have any teacups?" Harvey looked around the table, spotting a few. "Why the hell do they have teacups for alcohol?" His remark was matched with him filling up a teacup with whiskey. He took the shot he had poured for her original, making his shot total three. He needed more than this to feel anything. He grabbed the bottle, filling up a teacup of his own. "I'll make a note to never dance again." He whispered into Something's ear to show that he had cooled down.
"I need a smoke right about now." Harvey knew that smoking and drinking combined would be the perfect combination for the boy, so he pulled out his pack. He was just about to light one until he realized that his cigarette lighter had been snatched by Soren. "Just my fucking luck." He shook his head as he spotted Soren with Omar. He had no desire to even move away from Something at this point, so he placed his hand on her lower back. "Got a lighter I can use?" His question was asked subconsciously as his eyes fell on Seph. "What were you doing?" She actually seemed to be talking to him at this moment, only making him smile. "What did it fucking look like, little girl?" He was in need of a cigarette very badly to match the intake of alcohol. "It's called dancing, sweetheart."
At this point, Harvey had taken several steps towards Seph. He was close enough for just the two to hear his words. "Why did you do that?" The question caught him off guard and frustrated him. "I did that because I fucking could. I do stuff because I can. That's like asking you why you're such a tight ass." His hand shook as his body signaled the need for nicotine. "Why the fuck do you even care what I do? You don't know me, so quick trying to judge me. You got that shit?" His need for nicotine had made him angry, so the words that spilled from his mouth were worse than usual. "Stupid little virgin." He said as he licked his lips, stepping as close as he could get to Seph. "Let me know when you want me to change that because I'm more than happy to now."' He licked his lips before placing a hand on the table of drinks.
Seph turned rather sharply at the sound of Artemis' voice. She subconsciously took a half step backwards, though her facial expression was not one of fear. "Probably," she said, shrugging, "depending on how you look at it, I'm either nineteen, or just over five. But I was thirsty, you know?"
Seph had been uncomfortable around Artemis as soon as she'd learned what his power was. She had... and extreme distaste for lightning, and storms in general. And she'd seen him shock people before, even if it was just on accident. She had nothing against him, she just didn't feel comfortable around him yet was all. But she didn't really have time to think any more on that subject, as Harvey had made his way over to the drinks with Something.
He'd gotten very close to her after she asked her questions. There was no one quite like Harvey in Seph's eyes. No one else on the Isle could make her legitimately angry. Uncomfortable, sure, confused, definitely, but angry? No, only Harvey could do that. It was just the way he was an insufferable ass to everyone he knew, including himself. The way he treated everyone and everything like it didn't matter to him. Maybe there really was nothing that mattered to him. If that was the case, she felt sorry for him.
At first she hadn't understood his intentions when he talked to her like this. She had just been confused when he called her things like sweetheart, little girl, tight ass, stupid little virgin. But after seeing him interact with others, she came to understand that his intention was to legitimately hurt people, for his own amusement it seemed. Now, she had come to despise some of the wolves back in her pack, the alphas mostly, but it was for reasons she could understand. They were ruthless, but they still had compassion. They helped the others grow and improve... she had just been incompetent, and worthless in a pack. But Harvey... there was no cause for his malice, no reason she could see as for why he so... so... evil to everyone.
But she was determined not to back down from him, or to let him get away with this one. He'd embarrassed Something, and hurt her, she could see it in the poor girl's face. She'd be stronger, though. She wouldn't break down and profusely apologize for impeded his amusement. She'd let him know that not everyone was willing to put up with him anymore. Seph wanted to see him change... for both their sakes. She just had to figure out how to do it.
The others were probably just about to jump in. Daniel was always quick to keep Harvey away from her, as was Aaron. But she wanted to do this herself this time, without someone stepping in to protect her. She silently held his gaze, keeping her face blank even as he came mere inches from it, to the point where the smell of smoke on his breath was nearly overwhelming her heightened senses.
"Try it," she said, her voice cold and even, "and I'll bite your dick off. Even the smallest wolf has bigger teeth than you, and even the smallest wolf won't be intimidated by your pathetic little bark."
She topped it off by emptying her cup of beer directly in his face. "Does that make it clear enough for you?"
Without waiting for a reply from him, or anyone, she pushed past him, and walked swiftly away from the courtyard, and the bonfire, and the booze, and the music, and everything. The forest was calling... she had a desire for a kind of simplicity that only it could provide. Something to just... get away, from all these confusing people. The wild was harsh, unforgiving, and often very cold, but it was one of the few things she truly understood.
She winced at the pain, but her anger at Harvey allowed her to push it aside, as her human form reverted back to her natural self, a small wolf with raven black fur, skinny and sleek. It felt... comfortable, for once. She took off at a run into the forest, reveling in the feeling of four padded feet pounding against the earth, her tail swishing behind her, her body feeling light and agile rather than awkward and clumsy.
And she kept running. If someone wanted to come after her, they could, but she wasn't stopping for anyone right now. It had felt good to stand up to Harvey. It was one of the first times she'd done it herself.
It wouldn't be the last. He could count on that.
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Artemis had enjoyed the party thus far and was actually enjoying the little spectacles here and there but Harvey was beginning to be a pristine example of a buzz killing ass. But that was no reason for Artemis to be hasty and come to Seph’s aid, after all she was a strong enough girl, clearly she was entirely capable of handling a bully. He just stepped over to stand beside Something and smiled at her before taking a sip of his beer, “Hey, you’re the new girl right? Someone said your name was… uh… something unusual… I can’t remember, sorry but I know it was something interesting!” he cleared his throat and kept his smile up, “Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t seem to recall it, but I’m Artemis, nice to meet you!” he looked back as Harvey made some snide comments and his smile fell a bit.
Still he just watched and sipped his beer, glancing from the two of them and interested in seeing how this went. He glanced at the plates of food and picked up the plate of finger sandwiches and offered it to Something, “Sandwich? Dinner and a show right?” if she took one he’d put it back and if she didn’t he’d just shrug and again return it to the table. Either way he’d glance back at the ‘show’ while taking a sandwich of his own and taking a bite as she made comment about, ‘biting [his] dick off…’. Now Artemis was normally more socially aware than most like him when it came to eating but he couldn’t stifle the laugh that made him choke a bit on his beer and food. He thought a bit out loud against his choking, “If she finds it…” to himself and possibly Something but he highly doubted Harvey would hear him.
Artemis had a bit of sandwich stuck in his throat as she continued her assault but kept looking at her as he choked for a moment while she kept eviscerating Harvey’s man card. He hit himself in the chest dislodging the stuck food and swallowed hard still giggling. She then splashed her beer in the man’s face and even Artemis had an inward wince knowing that would burn if it got in his eyes. After a few tense moments he cleared his throat, “Well… I must say that was a surprise. Don’t get me wrong, I expected your comments…” he was giving Harvey a semi friendly face but his eyes were much less agreeable, “I mean had that been Xy, or god forbid you being dumb enough to say that to Erin I would have expected you to get it… and then some… but Seph!” he continued stifling a laugh at the whole series of events and pushed some napkins to Harvey, “Times I wish I had my camera.”
Of course this was also all a ploy, Artemis was deliberately poking a lion who had just had its tail stepped on and its nose shoved in a river to direct the forth coming anger that Harvey would more than likely be having at him rather than at Seph who was probably not as well built for a punch to the face. That and if Harvey punched him it would end then and there, or maybe with a fist fight at worse, if he hit Seph however then Renn may just bury the guy in an avalanche. That was, of course, assuming that Xy or one of the others didn’t beat him to it.
Still he just watched and sipped his beer, glancing from the two of them and interested in seeing how this went. He glanced at the plates of food and picked up the plate of finger sandwiches and offered it to Something, “Sandwich? Dinner and a show right?” if she took one he’d put it back and if she didn’t he’d just shrug and again return it to the table. Either way he’d glance back at the ‘show’ while taking a sandwich of his own and taking a bite as she made comment about, ‘biting [his] dick off…’. Now Artemis was normally more socially aware than most like him when it came to eating but he couldn’t stifle the laugh that made him choke a bit on his beer and food. He thought a bit out loud against his choking, “If she finds it…” to himself and possibly Something but he highly doubted Harvey would hear him.
Artemis had a bit of sandwich stuck in his throat as she continued her assault but kept looking at her as he choked for a moment while she kept eviscerating Harvey’s man card. He hit himself in the chest dislodging the stuck food and swallowed hard still giggling. She then splashed her beer in the man’s face and even Artemis had an inward wince knowing that would burn if it got in his eyes. After a few tense moments he cleared his throat, “Well… I must say that was a surprise. Don’t get me wrong, I expected your comments…” he was giving Harvey a semi friendly face but his eyes were much less agreeable, “I mean had that been Xy, or god forbid you being dumb enough to say that to Erin I would have expected you to get it… and then some… but Seph!” he continued stifling a laugh at the whole series of events and pushed some napkins to Harvey, “Times I wish I had my camera.”
Of course this was also all a ploy, Artemis was deliberately poking a lion who had just had its tail stepped on and its nose shoved in a river to direct the forth coming anger that Harvey would more than likely be having at him rather than at Seph who was probably not as well built for a punch to the face. That and if Harvey punched him it would end then and there, or maybe with a fist fight at worse, if he hit Seph however then Renn may just bury the guy in an avalanche. That was, of course, assuming that Xy or one of the others didn’t beat him to it.
An attempted step away, to the embrace of hardly saccharine liquors and the interruption of many a duo's liaisons to forget his own, before Graham had been lured back by words far sweeter than any bitter twinge of spirits "I can't claim to know much of crime or horror, my friend, but I'd enjoy your continued company if it please you." Please him? Few things could claim to do such, amuse him, sure, that was as simple a task as merely existing more often than not, but to please was an honnor reserved for the spectacular, the unheard of. A moment's consideration, mind racing through the plethora of possibilities presented to it by words spoken so, without care for what they would entail; then the twisting of his grin, crawling high along his cheek, in the lining of his jowls, merging with the glint of predatory hunger still lingering within his gaze to become one ravenous whole as it regarded the boy yet again. He supposed it would please him, Aaron had done nothing but since the night began, after all.
"Though I'd quite like to teach you a thing or two 'bout the crimes of which I know," his voice a dark rumble between chuckle and purr, hands thrown to the winds in a general sweep of emphasis and fingertips brushing lightly 'cross the boy's cheek in doing so, "your continued company plenty suits my needs of the moment. I'll just have to reserve my showings to another day, shame that, the anticipation ought slay me."
"If there is indeed injustice afoot, it's only that you've not yet offered me a drink. That is truly unconscionable." Again, a low rumble of a chortle rolls from his throat, grin expanding ever further with every word spoken. To think, he'd already long been plotting a variable sea of concoctions to offer the blonde--in the name of
Expertise was an awfully strong word for his familiarity with liquors and the like, it was more akin to an abusive-acquaintanceship one might say, but he did quite enjoy hearing it be said that he was an expert in such, that much was sure. Beaming in the wake of what he perceived a compliment, he leisurely wove his arm 'round Aaron's own offered one--only then acknowledging it for the entire period it'd been presented to him.
"One such as myself, your guide, hmm?" Graham mused affably enough, free hand drawn to his chin as though deep in thought and gaze far away above, that the heavens might hold his answers, "so long as you not come to regret such a request and the libations that might follow hence, I'd be more than happy to oblige." It was really only a pretense that he's said anything at all, a means to make the case should things go awry that, indeed, he had warned him of the potential consequences; that the boy might not have heeded his words, as abrupt and jesting as they might have seen, was far from his control of things, truly. There'd hardly been a moment for what he'd said to have any effect, before Graham was all but prancing off to the makeshift bar of sorts, Aaron dragged along in tow, of his violition or not.
Arrival at the liquor station wrought little but despondency though, nose scrunching as though he'd caught whiff of something putrid and lips curling into a grimace as he appraised the meager assortment of drinks. Whiskey, Tequila, a few assorted wines, brandies and the like, but hardly anything he could fit to his plans. So, he'd been a bit spoiled at the parties he'd attended it seemed, the lack of cream liqueur, schnapps, brandy, rum, gin, vodka, or even any form of soda had taken him aback a bit. Though it had been from a wine cellar that all the drinks were procured to begin with, it still brought no small amount of disappointment to see his grandiose dreams of fruity shots that delighted the pallet and wore away at inhibitions without anyone the more ware were never to be, nor his backup plan of simple mixed drinks that coaxed down one's throat in a carbonated burn, just plain old bitter liquor.
Liqueurs are surely where it was at, whatever it may be. But he would certainly try and work with what he had. Shots weren't that horrible by themselves, right?...Fuck, they were, who was he kidding, they tasted like fiery piss ought to--actually, it was Aaron, perhaps he ought go with a vintage wine instead...Or the closest he could find to a vintage wine at least--Aaron had all but admitted he had no familiarity with the spirit himself, not as though he could much judge. Genius! Wine it was, then. A quick appraisal of his selection, more based on familiarity of name than a particular year, and aha!--A 1995 Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon, that would most certainly work, not one of the better years, but still of a high enough quality to suit his own tastes, certainly the blonde's then as well.
A moment's contemplation on just how to go about opening the damn thing, temporarily he considered breaking out the claws, though the general blood and gore bit involved might not go over so well with the whole wine bit too, not very sanitary either no doubt, so that was certainly not an option. After going through a number of other impromptu corkscrews mentally, twigs, stone, and his teeth amongst them, Graham was struck by inspiration; reaching into the expanse of his coat pocket with practically his entire free arm and struggling with the contents of such for all of a minute or so, he procured a small safety pin triumphantly to the air. The entire time he'd still been linked arm in arm with Aaron--though at some point his arm had managed to snake its way 'round the boys waist, settling comfortably on the brink of his hip--but knowing the hardship no doubt to occur as he struggled valiantly against the dreaded wine cork, he slid fluidly free of his grasp, and set to work at
The awkward shuffle that proceeded for all of thirty seconds, tops, managed to both wound poor Graham's thumb no less than three times and opening the bottle, theoretically with no to little blood challenging its sanctity...hopefully, ah, hell, what's a bit of blood in the wine, right, not like anyone else was like to drink it. Even if they do, eh, they'll have a little bit of him with them forever, that's not too bad, really. Beside, he'd alr
Finding a suitable glass to pour the spirit, a particularly wide bottomed, inward curved affair of a tea cup that seemed like enough to a proper glass that it'd essentially do the whole oxidation affair any real wine snob would fret over; though he ought have let it breathe first in bottle--maybe decant it first if he felt particularly classy--it seemed unlikely to him Aaron would know proper procedure himself, no point in fretting over the nuances of wine. With that thought in mind, he served a sizable quantity of the drink for the boy with little reservation; oh his Grandfather would be so ashamed to know he'd stooped so low--really, bruising the wine, the audacity . A swish of his hand and the cup was brimming at the blonde's lips, the distance between the two men again non-existent as Graham offered the libation, "Let it breathe a while before you drink it, savor the aroma--it's the only bit that actually tastes half decent; should be a bit of an olive scent, touch of oak, maybe jasmine? I couldn't quite place it, I only got a whiff myself." With that said, he leaned in closer to the drink, hovering centimeters both above it and away from Aaron as he took a deep inhale. "Definitely jasmine, must have been one of the exotic years."
The faerie prince hardly needed to be dragged, having been the one to propose that they journey together to the nest of containers of alcohol that had been assembled. His steps were light and sure as he gallivanted along with Graham in his usual spritely fashion. If anything, the Mori might find himself the one being tugged, bringing to mind the image of a particularly energetic puppy using the tether of its leash to enthusiastically drag its owner about. Of course, the idea of anyone leashing Aaron, much less owning him, was dubious at best.
He had not responded to the older boy’s replies. That he’s agreed to accompany him was all that truly mattered. He had no urge to dignify the obvious insinuation of Graham’s teaching him of certain crimes with his attention, or to agree to any sort of promise regarding his potential regrets. In his admittedly haphazard study of the supernatural beings which had made a legacy of their blood, he’d learned well enough that making promises to either fae or demon was a fool-hardy thing to do. He fully reserved the right to regret every second of the experience, if he chose, but it would have been in poor taste to make that so explicit audibly.
When Graham released him to survey their drinking options, Aaron let his attention wander away from his companion toward the others who had assembled in proximity of the social lubricants. Many of them were the same lot who’d dared not to join the festivities in earnest, but it seemed that almost everyone who hadn’t wandered off was being drawn inexorably toward the makeshift beverage center. He saw Artemis move off toward the compound for some purpose, saw Fleet and Hazel in conversation. He smiled to Tally, letting his chin dip in a nod her way. She was drinking beer, one of the only sorts of liquid intoxicant that he did have some experience with, none of it good. The only positive thing he could think to say of it was that, when cold, it could be fairly refreshing… but that was true of almost any liquid intended for cold consumption. He could say quite a few negative things about it as well, but didn’t, merely noting what she was drinking instead.
Elvis, Harvey, Something, Vendicare. Seph as well, and Wynston. He spared a glance Graham’s way to see what progress he was making and found him staring at a wine bottle contemplatively, but he was more interested in what the others were up to. He’d seen Harvey dancing with Something and actually been surprised that the usually caustic Harvey, the last one he would have expected to give in to the celebration, was actually having a bit of fun. He waggled his fingers Seph’s way, smiling brightly, and then frowning when she didn’t seem to notice that she had his attention. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said from his vantage point, but he certainly saw what followed the exchange of words between the Balaren girl and surly Omarain boy. Artemis had returned with food, he noted.
His laughter was just as musical as any other sound he made. As the beer dripped down Harvey’s face, though, there was a subtle note of scorn laced through it. Firelight and mirth danced in his eyes as he watched for a few more seconds, bringing his hands together in polite applause even as Seph took her leave. Smirking Harvey’s way, he let his eyebrows lift a bit on his brow, then shook his head. The electrical Navarene got his shots in first, but the faerie prince was quick to follow. ”You certainly have a way with the gentler sex, cousin. They hardly seem so gentle when you’re around.” he remarked, lifting his voice to be heard above any competing sounds without actually stooping to the indignity of shouting.
His gaze trailed away from Harvey, toward the towering Elvis, the roughly-hewn Vendicare, and the authoritative Wynston. He pursed his lips as he tried to sort out exactly why that arrangement seemed a bit tense, but was unable to reach any meaningful verdict. Instead, when he formed his mouth into a sultry curve and tried to catch the eyes of Elvis and Vendi, since Wynston was facing away from him. That was all he offered, a flirtatious little smirk, before he rounded to check on Graham’s progress.
The prior song ended, and without teenage lust to distract him, Aaron seamlessly transitioned to the next song in his impromptu play-list. He verged a bit closer, laying his hand on the small of Graham’s back thoughtlessly as he poured. The way that the teacup was thrust at him was nearly alarming, enough so that he felt a tiny thrill build up and die. It was the same feeling one had when almost anything was quickly coming at their face, but he neither shied away nor threw his hands up to block. Instead, he brought both hands up, touching them to the somewhat absurd vessel that Graham had chosen for the cabernet. He didn’t take it though, not immediately. The Mori would be forced to either let it fall, or to continue holding it at Aaron’s full lips while he loomed so close.
He arched a blond eyebrow as the characteristics of the wine were laid out for him. ”Olive and oak, coconut and chocolate? You smell all of that? I can’t imagine how it tastes.” His nose wrinkled, and his voice bore a hint of derision that was just as noticeable as the olive top note of the deep red wine in the teacup. He did sniff, though… and tried to smell all of the things Graham was describing. He didn’t, of course. To him it smelled just slightly like acetone and berries. There was a certain sharpness to the scent that was almost oily in nature; not that it smelled like oil, but that it smelled like it might feel oily on his tongue. He finally accepted the teacup by its pert handle, frowning into the liquid as if he expected to see his fortune in the dregs at the bottom. ”How long must I wait? he asked, glancing up again.
The Wind-Touched Guardian’s spine straightened slightly as Hazel came closer, and his eyes grew just a bit wider when she embraced him. When her lips brushed his cheek, they grew wider still. An instant later, Hazel would find herself in a bit of disarray as the wind-formerly-known-as-Fleet swirled and gusted about her, surely wreaking havoc on her hairstyle before it slipped out of her arms and skirted a few yards away.
He became flesh and blood once more staring at the ground. His cheeks were very red, though they’d only seem dark in the lack of light. He let out a very loud, awkward laugh, hahaha, then reached up to rub at the back of his neck. ”Oh I’m not sad, I’m not, don’t you worry, not at all.” He laughed again, the same awkward, bleating sound. ”Oh look, Artemis brought finger sandwiches. I bet they don’t have any fingers or sand or witches in them!” With that, he adjusted his hat and took off at an ungainly, loping pace for the little snack area that his fellow Navarene had set up.
His head bobbed as ungainly as anything else he did to Aaron’s music, and then he remembered to snatch up a plate before loading it up with goodies. He was still blushing, and his lips were moving, but if he was saying anything at all he was sub-vocalizing it.
Xy leaned back as Dan's hands came around her torso. She had let go of her grip on his neck, so (had she been a child or not light as air) would have been very hard to hold up in this position. As it were, she leaned back on his arms as they spoke, her legs still wrapped around his waist, holding her in place. "Hey there Xy! Good to see you again." She laughed at his words, a playful, giddy laugh. It was silly to her for him to say it as though they hadn't seen each other in a long time, they'd just seen each other yesterday! Either way, she found joy in the idea that he'd missed her for the time they'd been apart, however short.
"My night's been pretty good Xy, so I can't exactly complain. Danced some with Seph, said hi to Erin, watched everyone have fun." Xylea's eyes grew wide. Seph! She hadn't seen her yet, or at least, she didn't think she had. Her wolfy friend had to be somewh-- she audibly gasped at Erin's name and looked around. She knew Erin was always somehow watching whenever Dan and Xy were talking/playing/doing anything. Xy didn't really understand why or what it meant, but she was extremely curious as to whether or not the blonde mori was watching at this moment too. It was like she had some sort of homing beam on their friendship that sent off alarms whenever the two were near each other. "Oh how cool would that be!" Xy exclaimed, making "pew pew" homing noises as Dan continued. "It's been nice, nicer that I've had in a while."
Xy's confusion took form in a small frown on her face. She was about to ask him what, exactly, he'd had that could be nicer than the chocolate cake they'd had for dessert, but was immediately defeated by a fit of excited giggles as Dan began spinning them around. She threw her hands up and her head back, enjoying the soothing feeling of the wind intertwining with her fingers and pushing through her hair. She could feel every follicle dance on her scalp as her light blonde tresses whipped in the wind and it brought a titillated flush to her cheeks. As he slowed to a stop, her heart rate continued to flutter with the excitement and she just hugged him again. "Dan! You're the best!" The loving statement rang with honesty, she'd known Dan longer than anyone else at the Compound and her trust in him and friendship with him was definitely the strongest. He wouldn't let her get away with her wandering thoughts though, being very used to the way she would flit from one subject to the next, Dan reeled her back in, "Oranges huh? I'm more keen on pears myself. Why don't I find you some sometime?"
Xy allowed her forehead to be tapped with his as an airy, light chuckle escaped her lips. All limbs, she scrambled from his arms and stood in front of him, patting him on the head as though he were a small child, "Of course you'd rather have a pair of them! Two are always better than one!" She laughed again at her silly friend, playfully and bubbly. She skipped around him in circles, enjoying the bouncing movement immensely, then startled herself with a thought as she came to stand in front of him again. Wide eyed, she turned to look him in the eye. All playfulness gone, her new-found seriousness creating a dire feeling, "What if we had a bunch of oranges? A whole box! There would be a pair for..." she looked around and started counting everyone near the bonfire. She had gotten all the way to 5 when she noticed Seph dumping the contents of a red solo cup all over Harvey and shift quickly into her native form, running off into the woods. Xy gasped audibly. She'd never seen her friend turn into a wolf before and it was quite a different experience than she'd expected, to see the bones breaking and re-forming, the fur growing, to feel the vibrations of the air around her as matter moved from surrounding a human shape to holding a dog-like form.
Xylea stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. She'd seen what Seph had done in movies before, and usually with some thick pink or brown liquid in a 1950s diner.... They always look so cute with their skarves! I have to get me one of those poo-dull skirts some day... Wait! Focus! Those situations had usually been... bad, right? Whenever someone was splashed in the face by someone else it was usually because something had gone terribly wrong... Or they'd had the wrong answer on one of those crazy Nickelodeon shows. Xylea chuckled in spite of herself as she remembered the orange or green ooze shows. Then she made up her mind in a split second decision: oranges. Without a second glance or goodbye to Dan she ran towards the Compound.
Being faster than most humans, thanks to her light body and long legs, she sprinted across the yard and past Harvey and Artemis quickly. Just as she left the area they stood in, she clapped and waved her hand toward the boys on an after thought. Wind flowing from her to whip around them suddenly. She paused as she got to the door of the Compound, looking back at the boys to manipulate the pocket of air that engulfed them. Artemis would mostly just be caught in the wind, an innocent bystander , but Harvey would be taken up in the flurry. Xylea wasn't doing anything to harm, though, simply to dry. Her eyes grew silver-blue as the small gusts flew through Harvey's hair, across his face and neck, moved through the microscopic holes in the weave of the fabric of his shirt. It was a gentle but non-stop force until the Fae stood where he had been, completely dry if somewhat disheveled and smelling of hops. Artemis, on the other hand, would probably be a mess of static.
Then Xy thought of her friend, the she-wolf she'd grown close to must have been feeling bad to have slimed Harvey in the first place. Ever so gently, she pulled the wind and sent it after Seph. She used the softer patches of air that spelled movement to trace where the Balaren had been. Finding her tail, Xy sent the small gust to play in Seph's fur, tugging lightly at the scruff just behind her ears. She didn't need to say anything or for Seph to stop running to let her friend know she was there for her. Seph would know that it was Xy's way of saying that she'd be right next to her in a heartbeat if she wanted.
Smiling to herself, she let the gust drop and charged inside. She found the kitchen with ease and, after a little snooping and a quick cookie (or 4), she snagged a large box of oranges. Returning triumphantly to where everyone seemed to be gathering around the alcohol, she set the box of fruit down and proclaimed, "I brought one for everyone!
No sooner had Vendicare allowed his body to relax when he was hit with an onslaught of different occurances causing him to tense once again. Was this isle always going to be like this? Calm one minute, on edge the next? The last thing Vendi wanted was to deal with the back-and-forth pull of emotions that had been raging inside of him since day one here. He was already beginning to miss the days of his wolf-dom, running and barking and playing. His only cares then had been whether or not he'd catch the next meal or another entity in his pack was. It was as though he was a different person whenever he was in his lupine form and he craved it as much a flower craved the sunlight. Being stuck in his human form was bothersome and tiring, however natural it was meant to be. Perhaps it was because he let go and allowed himself to be true to his inner nature whenever he was prowling on all fours?
The first of the distractions came in the form of the wolf-born Balaren and an Omarain getting into a tiff. Some heated words reached their ways to Vendi's sensitive ears and caused him to clench his fists. Harvey had said things to the tiny woman that Vendi hadn't even heard men say to women they'd bought on the streets of Italy. Tense, he waited as the fight crescendoed. If he needed to, he'd step in, regardless of whether or not Seph liked him. He'd always been aware of what 'polite conversation' meant, and Harvey was crossing a line, speaking of things that were meant to be sacred, no matter the sex. It made Vendi's blood boil to hear the Fae belittle the tiny woman. No one, and he meant no one had the right to treat another person that way. His protective nature was bubbling up, and memories of Davide unexpectedly pierced through his heart. The added pain of his past intensified his anger over the situation but also reminded him that it wasn't his place to protect anyone anymore. In all reality, it never had been, obviously, seeing as he'd done such a horrid job of it. He unclenched his fists and watched apathetically now, having successfully pushed aside his need to intervene. As Seph wasted a perfectly full glass of beer on humiliating Harvey, Vendicare's right eyebrow twitched upward slightly. His thought's were confirmed: no need for him here. He took another swig of his Guinness, finishing it, as he watched Seph transform and charge towards the wood his bones ached once again to change and wander the isle. As it was he was held in place by a new attack of his senses: A smell
The scent of blood, hot and fresh, hit his nose, jarring him. His teeth clenched as he involuntarily took a step toward the scent. It was his natural reaction to the inevitable kill he'd grown accustomed to associating with the smell. Vendicare saw that his body's reaction was completely unwarranted, though, as the metallic taste was only triggered by a mere droplet of blood on the oh-so-narcisstic Graham's finger from an almost failed attempt to open a wine bottle. An ironic smirk hit Vendi's face with a swiftness that was only matched by it's retreat. Closing his eyes he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, then grabbed another beer and returned to Elvis. He desperately wanted to go inside and be away from all the noise and smells and what was most likely going to turn into drunken debauchery. Some part of him told him to stay, create bonds. He was aware that he had to be on the isle for quite some time, and these were the people he'd be living with, learning with. He'd have to get to know them eventually, right? It wasn't as though he wanted to be a loner, he just knew that life was easier when you weren't emotionally attached to anyone. Had he not thought of Davide as a younger brother it never would have debilitated him when Davide had been stolen from the streets. Feelings brought pain, plain and simple. As it was, this was where he needed to be, and these were the people he needed to learn to get along with, even trust. He'd make an effort.
Having made his decision, he was about make another attempt at the hard liquor Elvis was holding when the scent of chocolate hit him and made him bunch his nose up in disgust. The sugary scent reminded him of the first time he'd tried the dark hershey's bar and gagged. Looking to it's source, he noticed Wynston walking up. The hair on the back of Vendi's neck stood up and he scowled, unsure why his body was trying to warn him of something. He momentarily considered the weather, (perhaps a storm was coming?), but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come. His body had known before he would what was coming: a different kind of storm. His fellow Balaren had nodded greetings to the men around him, but locked eyes with Vendi. To anyone else, it would have simply been eyes meeting, a polite way of saying hello possibly, but Vendi knew better. He matched the stare, letting his muscles bunch if the need for a fight arose. He'd been in his fair share of these alpha-battles, some he'd won, some he'd chose to step away from, some he'd lost. Mostly the one's he'd left as an 'alpha' of sorts had been as a human, when egos were involved instead of the pure survival of the fittest. Had he been in his wolf form, the question of whether or not to attack or be attacked wouldn't have been in existence. He would have simply bowed his head and stepped aside, fully aware that he wasn't meant to alpha a pack, he would never be able to further the pack's lineage, his attractions being what they were. Besides, who would want all the responsibility? He just wanted to have fun. He held the gaze, knowing better than to break it.
As a human... his thoughts seemed to process differently. He realized that, not only was this a show of strength but also an ego-game, a "my dick is bigger than yours" contest. It was not as though Vendi felt he was better than Wynston, but he was also not one to back down. And in the back of his mind he was aware of the people around, the people he needed to get to know. The last thing he wanted was to be considered weak in front of these people. It was better to be a formidable force than someone they bypassed in loyalties because of insecurities over that person's usefulness. His eye contact still maintained, he worked through his thoughts quickly. Tilting his head down slightly, he stared into Wynston's blue orbs from under his eyebrows, a scowl on his face. He'd let the smaller man decide: Would he attack or call a truce? The muscles in Vendicare's full lips tightened as they parted just enough for his long canines to show. "Pensa prima di agire, amico" The word's came out in a deep grumble that rattled in his chest. It was not menacing, but cautioning. Vendi wasn't one to make enemies, in fact he detested having people he had to worry about in a 'danger' way, and so would rather dispel things before they started. He wished he'd listened to his instincts and gone inside when he had the chance. As it was, he let his muscles grow taut once again as he prepared for the worst while hoping for the best.
Girl In Rags
Tally finished her beer and looked around at all the other charges; some had left the courtyard, some standing around talking and others still dancing, though she wasn’t sure how. The short amount of dancing she had done before had already worn her out enough for one night. She caught Aaron’s eye and when she saw his smile directed at her she flashed a carefree one back. Tally’s eyes then wandered to Harvey being soaked with alcohol with Steph to thank. Steph ran off immediately after though, turning into her wolf form and entering the forest. Tally wanted to follow her and make sure she was okay but she could never catch up with the wolf. Likewise She wasn’t all that close enough with Steph to go charging after her.
Tally looked back over at The group that had formed. Though she strained her ears she couldn’t hear what was said next. She put down her empty bottle and was about to move towards them when she felt a small unnatural breeze to her right. Looking over her shoulder, Tally saw Fleet digging into the sandwiches. Deciding not to get involved in whatever was sure to play out; she moved closer to the youngest Guardian.
“I love this hat of yours.” Tally said, a light smile lighting up her features while she tapped Fleet’s hat twice. Fleet seemed right at home in this atmosphere, bobbing along to Aaron’s music. Stealing one of his sandwiches as she went, she kept walking past him though. As she walked the tune in her head ended and a new one started up. Looking up at Aaron Tally had to wonder where he got his choice of music from, and how he had so many songs kept in that mind of his. Smiling slightly to herself she contented herself with answering all her questions with same fact. That it was Aaron she was talking about. Tally had only been here awhile and yet she already knew there was something strange about that boy. An interesting strange though. She popped the sandwich she had stollen from Fleet into her mouth and waved at Xylea who had appeared with a box oranges.
Tally moved away from the alcohol and food as she approached Hazel. “Hey, how are you?” Tally said, genuinely smiling at the Omarain. It wasn’t hard to for her to be genuine to Hazel either. The blonde was always just so easy to be around; always happy, lively and cheerful. Tally looked around the courtyard for a moment, thinking back to the figures that had appeared in Michaela’s little show. It was hard to believe that those things were where these strange abilities they all possessed came from. Evincal more than most, Tally defiantly didn’t feel even slightly like a dragon, dragons always seemed so violent and powerful. She defiantly didn’t feel that to be an accurate representation of her, or at least she hoped so. Looking back at Hazel, Tally continued, “Did you enjoy the show?”
Tally finished her beer and looked around at all the other charges; some had left the courtyard, some standing around talking and others still dancing, though she wasn’t sure how. The short amount of dancing she had done before had already worn her out enough for one night. She caught Aaron’s eye and when she saw his smile directed at her she flashed a carefree one back. Tally’s eyes then wandered to Harvey being soaked with alcohol with Steph to thank. Steph ran off immediately after though, turning into her wolf form and entering the forest. Tally wanted to follow her and make sure she was okay but she could never catch up with the wolf. Likewise She wasn’t all that close enough with Steph to go charging after her.
Tally looked back over at The group that had formed. Though she strained her ears she couldn’t hear what was said next. She put down her empty bottle and was about to move towards them when she felt a small unnatural breeze to her right. Looking over her shoulder, Tally saw Fleet digging into the sandwiches. Deciding not to get involved in whatever was sure to play out; she moved closer to the youngest Guardian.
“I love this hat of yours.” Tally said, a light smile lighting up her features while she tapped Fleet’s hat twice. Fleet seemed right at home in this atmosphere, bobbing along to Aaron’s music. Stealing one of his sandwiches as she went, she kept walking past him though. As she walked the tune in her head ended and a new one started up. Looking up at Aaron Tally had to wonder where he got his choice of music from, and how he had so many songs kept in that mind of his. Smiling slightly to herself she contented herself with answering all her questions with same fact. That it was Aaron she was talking about. Tally had only been here awhile and yet she already knew there was something strange about that boy. An interesting strange though. She popped the sandwich she had stollen from Fleet into her mouth and waved at Xylea who had appeared with a box oranges.
Tally moved away from the alcohol and food as she approached Hazel. “Hey, how are you?” Tally said, genuinely smiling at the Omarain. It wasn’t hard to for her to be genuine to Hazel either. The blonde was always just so easy to be around; always happy, lively and cheerful. Tally looked around the courtyard for a moment, thinking back to the figures that had appeared in Michaela’s little show. It was hard to believe that those things were where these strange abilities they all possessed came from. Evincal more than most, Tally defiantly didn’t feel even slightly like a dragon, dragons always seemed so violent and powerful. She defiantly didn’t feel that to be an accurate representation of her, or at least she hoped so. Looking back at Hazel, Tally continued, “Did you enjoy the show?”
Hazel was swallowed by a gust of wind and she looked around a bit interested in its power, knowing that it was certainly from Fleet. She noticed how embarrassed she had made him. ”Oh I’m not sad, I’m not, don’t you worry, not at all.” He laughed awkwardly, as if all he wanted to do was run away from her. ”Oh look, Artemis brought finger sandwiches. I bet they don’t have any fingers or sand or witches in them!” Then he quickly sped off to get some food.
Hazel called out to him, "Wait, Fleet! I'm sorry..." She dropped her head feeling guilty about her actions. She didn't mean to make him awkward or embarrassed in any way.
Suddenly Tally, came over and smiled at her happily. She smiled back at her as she asked, “Hey, how are you?” Hazel smiled softly at her and replied, "Oh, I'm good, I think I embarrassed Fleet though." She bit her lip and couldn't help, but look over at the Wind Touched.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Tally then asked her. Hazel tried to brighten up her mood and grinned big at Tally. She then said happily, "Oh yes, yes, I did. It was quite enjoyable. I hope to master that level of power in my own illusions soon. But sadly this is about all the 'alive' illusion I can create right now." And at that moment, Hazel pointed her finger at Tally's feet, which she created an illusions of a small bunny hoping around in circles around Tally. Hazel smiled as she made two more bunnies appear at Tally's feet.
Hazel called out to him, "Wait, Fleet! I'm sorry..." She dropped her head feeling guilty about her actions. She didn't mean to make him awkward or embarrassed in any way.
Suddenly Tally, came over and smiled at her happily. She smiled back at her as she asked, “Hey, how are you?” Hazel smiled softly at her and replied, "Oh, I'm good, I think I embarrassed Fleet though." She bit her lip and couldn't help, but look over at the Wind Touched.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Tally then asked her. Hazel tried to brighten up her mood and grinned big at Tally. She then said happily, "Oh yes, yes, I did. It was quite enjoyable. I hope to master that level of power in my own illusions soon. But sadly this is about all the 'alive' illusion I can create right now." And at that moment, Hazel pointed her finger at Tally's feet, which she created an illusions of a small bunny hoping around in circles around Tally. Hazel smiled as she made two more bunnies appear at Tally's feet.
It was impossible for Wynston to shut the rest of the world out like he would have liked to. Even with his focus on Vendicare, layers of sensory data just kept piling on. The uneven light and uncomfortable heat of the bonfire. The scents of sweat, of half a dozen types of alcohol, some more aromatic than others, the burning wood, voices nearby, voices in the distance, Aaron’s damnable faerie music. It made him think of home, that brief period that he’d spent in Detroit before Matthew had rescued him. He wondered if Vendicare had ever been in such a city after Awakening. If he’d ever had to deal with a stinking cesspit like that, the belching smoke, the light pollution. Exhaust, human and animal excrement, rotting garbage. Even the cleanest city street was unspeakably foul to someone with werewolf blood.
The other Balaren said something in a language Wynston didn’t know. Italian, he realized, remembering that he’d heard that somewhere. Maybe from Aaron? He’d appointed himself their social director, the ambassador of the Isle, so it would make sense that he’d been the one to talk up Vendicare.
Was it a threat? An insult? Vendicare was obviously tensing himself for a fight, but if he actually wanted a fight, he’d have taken the offensive. He was bigger. He had the longer reach. Giving Wynston the opportunity to get close would have been an incredible blunder. Amico probably meant the same thing as amigo. Wynston had enough Spanish under his belt to understand that. If Vendicare was addressing him as a friend… well, it could have been sarcasm. For a split second, Wynston thought it was, and his blood began to boil. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared; his lower jaw jutted out just slightly. It was only a split second, though. With that anger came the realization that he was angry. Some sort of internal sensor went off in Wynston’s brain, alerting him to that fact, and he immediately began to second guess himself.
Vendicare knew what the stare-down meant. How could any Balaren not? He’d chosen not to break it. He’d acknowledged the challenge and not pressed it, but he had said something involving the word friend. If it was some kind of snide remark, then Vendicare was only showing weakness by hiding it behind a tongue that Wynston couldn’t understand. If it wasn’t… then perhaps Vendicare really did think of him as a friend. No, not a friend, but an ally, in a more specific sense than the rest of the pack of misfits that the Guardians had brought together. Why not? They were both Balaren. They were both solitary, compared to their peers. Oddly enough, Elvis served as something of a link between them. Apparently outsiders of any stripe could stand him. If it hadn’t meant ending the stare-down, he would have tried to catch the Omarain’s eye, tried to see what he made of the situation.
With only Vendi’s eyes to look into, he couldn’t help but notice the details of the of the older lycanthrope’s features. The stubble lining his cheeks, his strong jaw line, his sloping brow. He certainly looked more rugged than Wynston knew himself to. He had to shave infrequently, and he’d always had a certain boyishness that no degree of facial hair or snarling could mask. That didn’t mean that he was more fit to lead, though.
Neither does winning a staring contest. The thought came to him unbidden, and he realized instantly that it was true. The wolf in him railed against the notion, but the human recognized that there was much, much more to leadership than winning every challenge. He drew in a deep breath through his mouth. The taste of smoke made his stomach turn. It reminded him too much of the city. Here, in this untouched place, they were more than wolves, more than boys. He may not have liked how it tasted, but it was fact all the same.
Another thought followed, organically: Vendicare doesn’t need to submit in order to follow. If he did… this wasn’t the time or the place to find out. He didn’t particularly care about disrupting the good time that the others were having. They wouldn’t understand. Seph would. Omar would. Matthew would. A few of them might. Maybe Elvis, he’d spent enough time around both Balaren. Renn, only because he’d been around for such a long time. The others, though? They might get in the way, and if they did, they’d get hurt. Both of their standings would be diminished. There’d probably be repercussions, too. Most of the Guardians wouldn’t care, but Michaela obviously expected them all to break out banjos and sing Cumbaya. She was the worst of the faerie-folk. Aaron might have been a spectacle, but he didn’t seem to be doing it on purpose. She was outright manipulative. He’d experienced it first-hand not long after arriving on The Isle.
That begged an interesting question: if she was the leader here, and that was what she brought to the table, would he need those qualities as well? Wordplay and niceties would never come easy to him. He was too blunt for that sort of thing. But playing nice… if he had to, he could. He’d proven that already. He’d probably have to do it a lot more as the weeks wore on.
Slowly, without breaking eye-contact, he extended his right hand. There was nothing threatening about the action. It actually seemed to be engineered to appear anything but. The intention behind the gesture was obvious- a handshake. For however long it took, he’d stand frozen in place, arm hanging in the air, waiting for Vendicare to accept his offered hand. If he didn’t, then it would be on his head if things got rough. Wynston’s gaze never shied away all the while, though. It wouldn’t until they’d shaken hands, and even then, Vendicare would still have his attention.
He spoke. "We were never really introduced." It was true enough. He couldn't recall exchanging more than a nod with the other Balaren, prior to this moment. If he had, none of this would really have been necessary. "Wynston. And you're..." He paused. He really wasn't 100% sure how to pronounce the other's name, and as much as he didn't want to go with the nickname then, he wanted even less to look a fool mispronouncing the full version. "Vendi." It wasn't a question. Wynston didn't ask unnecessary questions. He never spoke with uncertainty. Even as he gave his terse introduction, he never once dropped his eyes from Vendi's. He just kept right on staring with those intense glacial blues of his.
The Woman Trapped In Ice
"Well, sweetheart. I know you. We're alike, you and I. And I wouldn't follow anyone into the woods unless I was going to get something out of it. And don't tell me that it's just because you didn't like Aaron's music or some bull like that, darling, because then you could have just skulked back inside. I'm sure your precious puppy Daniel would have followed you." Markus began after he’d pulled her up and Erin rolled her eyes. She’d been a little surprised he’d even pulled her all the way. Of course she’d tried to help, but from this angle there wasn’t much for her to use as support, which mean that she’d been completely at Markus’ ‘mercy’ so to speak, and she hated it. “Something that you can give me, huh?” Erin said after he’d added the last bit, her voice dry. “Well, that certainly sounds interesting, doesn’t it?” She was baiting him, and she didn’t give two shits. Erin moved to sit with her legs folded under her, watching him. “And what if I don’t want Daniel to follow me? What then?” she raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Then he proposed a trait and Erin merely looked at him impassively. What was he up to now, the big oaf? She didn’t doubt he’d tell her regardless of what she said, so she kept quiet. Erin wasn’t a big talker anyway, so she supposed it was a good thing that Markus did… if one didn’t like silence. However, it just so happened that Erin did indeed like silence. Very much so. A little change was alright once in a while though, so she could deal with Markus in small dosages without going mental. Nope, wait, she was already pretty mental. Suppose she was just generally screwed then. As Markus began putting forth lighters, Erin mulled the situation over. What the hell was he trying to do, here? Irayah had settled down next to Erin, watching Markus intently, which to Erin meant that it at least wouldn’t be bothering her. She shook her head and moved a little more, scooting so that she could lean against the tree next to the rock and watch Markus at the same time. Might as well get settled in; it appeared this would be one of his notorious speeches. Irayah stayed where she was.
As Markus began telling his story, Erin listened only with half an ear. He hadn’t been at the Island for very long, true, but in the time he had, Erin had gotten used to Markus spouting bullshit on a daily basis. It was sort of his thing. When he began spreading lighter fluid on the rock, she cocked her head to the side a little, wondering what he was doing. Irayah moved in the next second, quickly settling herself in on Erin’s lap, which again made her wonder. She glanced the kitten, and a familiar voice sounded in her head, ”cross” was all she said, the sound shaky and downright terrified. Erin almost frowned, but managed to remain completely impassive as she watched Markus. What the hell was he making a cross for? Then the fire came and Erin visibly frowned, scooting a little further away by pure instinct. Irayah, for one, wailed and scrambled onto Erin’s shoulder again, trying to hide itself in her hair. She could always put that down to a cat scared of fire… or maybe that it had merely been surprised. Erin knew it was the image projected though, and that’s when she figured it out. He was trying to scare her?
His story had been dark and she’d sensed bits of truth in there, but she had a feeling – it was Markus after all – that a lot of it was also over dramatized. So was it his own story then? With a bit of glitter added? Or someone else’s? His power fit from what she’d seen… more or less. Although his wings had seemed kind of puny, especially the way they’d sort of… withered away. It was weird. Not particularly scary to her – probably due to past experiences – but ugly all the same. Then again, demonic features had a tendency to be. She didn’t miss the glint of amusement in his eyes and she shook her head at him as he finished his story. She quietly took Irayah in her hands and put her into her lap, running her fingers through the black fur to calm down the creature. It was still shivering in fear. She sent a pointed stare in Markus’ direction, completely ignoring his words. He talked too much anyways. She couldn’t be expected to actually listen all the time.
Irayah slowly unwound in her lap, and Erin remained silent for a few seconds until she looked at Markus once more. “You scared my cat,” she said matter of factly, her features completely expressionless. “You really shouldn’t do that.” Erin’s eyes flashed black for a second there as she used her connection with Irayah to instill calm in the kitten. It visibly relaxed with a soft purr, looking over at Markus. Then Erin finally smiled wryly, looking up at him, her momentary anger gone – she didn’t like Irayah being scared like that. It made her uncomfortable as she could feel it through their bond. “Now, if I didn’t know better, Markus, I’d say you were trying to scare me.” She said, her voice filled with dry humor, “it’s not going to work.” Then she put Irayah down and stood, wrapping an arm around the tree she’d been sitting against, and leaned her side against it, watching Markus intently. “As for what I want,” she then added, still not sure how to phrase it but deciding that it didn’t really matter.
How much worse could Markus really get? “You don’t need to ‘irritate me out of my mind’, even if you’re quite able in that department.” She shot him a wry smile at that. “I’d like to get rid of Daniel, and I’m going to need your help for that.” Irayah purred and flexed her little claws before she padded over to Markus, evidently over her moment of fear, and hopped onto his lap, curling up there. Erin rolled her eyes at the thing before looking at Markus’ face again, “I’ve tried everything to shove him away but he keeps coming back.” She wasn’t going to explain to Markus why she wanted Daniel gone, or the fact that the very words were hurting her already. She merely kept it to superficial facts. “I think I’ve worked out how to make him want to stay away from me, and that’s where you come in.” She paused, waiting to gauge his reaction.
“Oh yes, totally. Voldemort.” Omar replied, face mock-agitated. “You know, I’ve only ever seen the first two movies and never read the books. That being said, I don’t like reading in English.”
Following Soren, Omar lightly let himself into a dreary state, dreaming of the soft waters near Toledo where he would spend his nights howling. Yes, he would howl for days it seemed, mourning the loss of his mother, his family, his life. A small strain of relief always gleamed in the back of his head: his stepfather was dead. But without an other picture, Omar was certain it had been him who had murdered both mother and stepfather, injuring his two elder sisters, and Lord only knew what else.
The night’s moon wasn’t particularly full or vibrant, but nevertheless, the Moon was always Omar’s main attention. Yes, even if Aaron was half-naked in Omar’s bed, moaning with anticipation (which wouldn’t necessarily thrill or discourage Omar either way), Omar’s eyes would be cast against “La Luna”. To him, She was the celestial manifestation of the Virgin Mary, the Feminine principle of divinity and his one protectress. No, flesh, EVEN fae-flesh could never tempt him away from his devotion to the Moon. The only boy who could ever do that would have to be the one boy who could personify the moon. Was the Aaron? Maybe, but Omar didn’t rest that idea too long. Aaron had many more suitors, and Omar was just a fool in the dark.
Omar’s education had taught him very simple but essential precepts: 1) Never believe in anything unless you absolutely want to believe in it; 2) Never judge someone based on their beliefs; 3) See the beauty in others’ beliefs, AND if they have proven their passion to be truly genuine, then view it equal to your own. Omar refused to see ghosts, or spirits, or anything. He didn’t necessarily NOT believe in them, he just wasn’t focused enough TO believe in them. Omar had realized that he was only one of a few people Soren trusted to see her art and not judge it. And indeed, Omar never judged. He gazed on in fascination and wonder, but he never judged.
When Soren had passed him the rum, he made sure the opening was clear and clean, sniffed it, and swallowed back a few gulps’ worth. Omar wasn’t a rum-fellow. Nor beer, nor vodka nor anything of that sort. He liked wine and brandy, especially cognac, and he wasn’t usually one to indulge in alcohol just for sport. He was a quiet drunk. The type of drunk that sit in the corner and seemed to listen to some eternal playlist of the world’s most anguishing music. But this time, Omar realized the rum was a sort of “peace pipe” from Soren, and to refuse it would probably be to refuse her.
“Would it disrupt your art if I prayed? It has put me in a strangely spiritual mood. I am surrounded by dead, it seems, and as we say: espera respirar por acá de los muertos.” Omar’s eyes flashed in the moonlight beneath the tree. His breath had settled low and light, attempting not to disturb the dead; this was a very old superstition he had learned and lived by. And as someone who had murdered, he was not one to disturb the dead further.
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View All » Add Character » 26 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Something Seraphine
I see, I believe
Harvey Mak Chinnen
"Got a problem? I don't fucking care."
Milo Reed Corner
"I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different." - Kurt Vonnegut
Xylea Parihan
Being an airhead doesn't mean I'm not intelli... did you bake brownies?!
Elvis Johnson
A mischievous kid with a serpent's tongue.
Graham Lennox
"Hm? Don't you have interesting to say?...No, I suppose that would be too much to ask."
Vendicare
Chi ha fatto il male, faccia la penitenza. ("Those who have done evil, do penance.")
Soren Corosa
"Death and resurrection always come at a price."
Wynston Watson
"Submit for the better of your fate"
Omar Maria Media
"Bueno, we have much time to talk, amigo."
Trending
Harvey Mak Chinnen
"Got a problem? I don't fucking care."
Elvis Johnson
A mischievous kid with a serpent's tongue.
Daniel Sanderson
"I will not submit to the call of my blood. I can not let it happen."
Nila Loriette Pearce
"Oh, there was ketchup in you shampoo bottle? I wonder who did it!"
Something Seraphine
I see, I believe
Aaron Highmore
"The course of true love never did run smooth." - A Midsummer Night's Dream
Xylea Parihan
Being an airhead doesn't mean I'm not intelli... did you bake brownies?!
Darcy Lilith Ratri
"Shadow doesn't go side and side with evil. Oh? It does.. Shit."
Vendicare
Chi ha fatto il male, faccia la penitenza. ("Those who have done evil, do penance.")
Artemis Hulston
A Navarene with an electrifying mind and a troubled past to match his fellows
Most Followed
Aaron Highmore
"The course of true love never did run smooth." - A Midsummer Night's Dream
Omar Maria Media
"Bueno, we have much time to talk, amigo."
Soren Corosa
"Death and resurrection always come at a price."
Elvis Johnson
A mischievous kid with a serpent's tongue.
Darcy Lilith Ratri
"Shadow doesn't go side and side with evil. Oh? It does.. Shit."
Daniel Sanderson
"I will not submit to the call of my blood. I can not let it happen."
Something Seraphine
I see, I believe
Nila Loriette Pearce
"Oh, there was ketchup in you shampoo bottle? I wonder who did it!"
Xylea Parihan
Being an airhead doesn't mean I'm not intelli... did you bake brownies?!
Wynston Watson
"Submit for the better of your fate"
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Bloodlines
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Because apparently Tumblr is not enough
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Because apparently Tumblr is not enough
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