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Daniel Sanderson

"I will not submit to the call of my blood. I can not let it happen."

0 · 746 views · located in The Isle

a character in “Bloodlines”, as played by BrandedOne

Description

Daniel Sanderson
The Mori Bloodline


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At A Glance
Full Name: Daniel Sanderson
Age: 21
Birthdate: July 22nd
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Bloodline: Mori

Personality
Likes: Nighttime, people at peace, freedom to act as he sees fit, music (playing and listening), reading, drawing
Dislikes: Too much heat, overt amounts of conflict, being chained down, people who judge others without knowing them, those who harm others needlessly
Fears: Being hunted like an animal, and being alone. Loneliness above all things frightens him, because he knows that no one is around to hear him when he calls.
Goals: To be able to find a way to bring peace to his inner darkness.

Daniel is a complete anomaly among The Infernal Brood. He is one of the few that fight their inner darkness at every turn, keeping it at bay and not letting it out. It takes a great deal of coaxing to get him to use his powers at all; only someone that he completely trusts would be able to anyway. He usually keeps to himself, preferring the company of his thoughts, books, and piano. However, those that can get him to warm up to them enough find a friend and companion that will do anything in his power to aid them. He actually finds that helping people aids in repressing his darkness, so he is usually trying to find ways to do so. However, his kind and compassionate nature tends to land him into trouble too. Considered to be a little ignorant and naive, mostly due to his idealism, people tend to disregard the things he says or just flat out ignore him. To Daniel, this is ok. While he isn't included a lot, he isn't alone and he can help them without the people even realizing they are being helped!

This all goes out the window when he taps into his powers though. The more he uses, or the longer he uses it, the more angry, cruel, and ruthless he becomes. That's the side effect from calling on his bloodline, he surrenders more and more of himself to his blood the more he uses it. In actuality, this is fairly accurate in his case because of how often he clamps down on his bloodline, keeping it from being expressed through him and why he is so very reluctant to use his Infernal powers at all. It doesn't help that the power he wields is addictive and powerful, and thus appealing to his infernal blood.

When it comes to romance, Daniel believes that he isn't deserving of it. His bloodline is tainted in his mind, and not worth being passed on to any offspring he might have. While the young man yearns for acceptance and love from another, his heart fights his mind; his mind telling him that he shouldn't burden others with his curse. It would take someone determined to break through that stubbornness.

Capabilities
Bloodline Gift: Infernal Vestments. His power revolves around Hellfire, and his capability to create burning weapons in it's flames. So far, he is only able to make simple ones, like daggers or cudgels.
Bloodline Weakness: Demonic Taint. Due to his heritage, he is weakened against holy symbols and anything meant to drive out demons and the like harm him just as much as it would full demons.
Other Skills: He has a love of the arts, and as such is a skilled pianist and is good at sketching.

Biography Born to parents that abandoned him, Daniel was raised by his grandparents. As the only parents he knew, and having a son in the house again, he was treated to a life of relative luxury in an upper middle class household. Although everyone he knew tried to warn him away from the sciences, Daniel knew from a young age that he wanted to become a scientist. He was an exceptionally gifted child prodigy, and attended a school for the gifted for his high school years. He spent the last two years of his high school years going in-between his high school and Stanford University, and two years after graduating high school he earned his degree in chemistry, graduating Phi Beta Kappa.

He has several hobbies, mainly the piano, reading, and sketching landscapes. His love of books is especially seen in his ability to quote A Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe. He also has a fondness for numismatics, which is the study of money/coins and currency. However, he also contradicts his scientific training and believes in occultism, stating that one could have paranormal beliefs and still be a scientist. This turned out to work in his favor once the man awakened to his bloodline, the bloodline of the Mori clan. He was in the middle of running a blood test on himself to find his heritage, to find the parents that his grandparents refused to tell him about, when it started. His body suddenly felt hot, and his eyes burned as if they were on fire. Rushing to the eyewash station in the lab, he tried to cool them off, thinking he had gotten chemicals in his eyes before looking in the mirror and realizing his eyes were a cobalt black color. Screaming in fright, he thrust out a hand to break the mirror, before a fist made of fire appeared out of his hand and blasted the mirror apart.

After this startling discovery, he was approached by a man that he didn't know a few days later. Calling himself a Guardian, the man explained the nature of his powers as one of the Mori Bloodline, the nature of his powers, and how to control it. After expressing his desire to learn how control the dark impulses that he had started to feel, the Guardian informed him of the Isle. A day of consideration later, Daniel gave a singular condition to his life on the Isle, that he be allowed to visit the graves of his grandparents (who had died a few years prior) before they left. It was seen to almost immediately. Now having lived at the Isle for the past year, Daniel Sanderson has been able to gain a small amount of control over his power, which is exceptionally hard to control due to the differences between Daniel's mentality and the demonic bloodline he possesses. Going from having impulsive bursts of power to at least be able to suppress it and call on it at will, the man is now able to create simple items with his fire. While hating the source of his power, Daniel has acknowledged the importance of the power he holds, and has chosen to at least train and be able to control it.

Equipment

*

So begins...

Daniel Sanderson's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot
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#, as written by throne
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Chapter 1 - Convocation


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



* * *


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The faerie prince was uncharacteristically alone when the messenger arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Everyone, gather ‘round, please.”

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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The Conflicted Knight


He was standing in an ancient prison, fire and brimstone falling all around him. Looking down, he could see the fiery red armor that coated his form, the claws of his gauntlets clinking ominously against his palm. He had twin curved blades, both almost as large as he was tall strapped to his back. All around him were charred corpses, everyone on the Isle that he called home for the past year dead at his feet. Looking up, he saw the viscious form of his ancestor, the giant demon clad in ebon armor wielding a massive broadsword with one hand, a ball of hellfire in the other.

Then Daniel woke up. He wiped his brow with the nearby towel that he had before he looked down at the small pile of ashes in the corner of his room. "Well, there went my good shirt." He commented idly before moving about his room to tidy up after his nightmare fit. Taking a break to look outside, Daniel ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He hated how his blood sometimes reacted in his dreams, and he always wondered just what he was doing in that armor with the weapons. He knew the demon though, oh yes. That was his ancestor, the demon that gave his family the bloodline he now possessed. Daniel was certain that it was the work of his ancestor, trying to influence him in his sleep. However, just what the extent of his dreams contained, or what happened in them, was something that he didn't know.

"Meeting in the Courtyard!" On instinct, Daniel's eyes faded to black as a dagger of hellfire was hurled in the direction of the voice. Still on edge, he didn't calm until he saw the brief visage of the one that just yelled practically in his ear. Fleet, I thought you learned when I almost hit you last time... Sighing exasperatedly, Daniel just sat on his bed and stared at the wall for a few minutes. Finally deciding to get moving, he slapped himself before tugging on a pair of shoes and a loose shirt with slacks. Walking out of his room, he yawned before closing his door and moving on towards the appointed meeting spot. He didn't even notice the scorch mark on the wall outside of his room from where the dagger hit.

Wandering into the Courtyard, he put a smile on his face and politely greeted everyone he met on his way to find a spot to relax. Spotting Seph, he grinned and made his way over to her. He rather liked the young wolf-turned-human girl, and made it his goal to look out for her and make sure she was ok. Flopping down on the ground next to her, he grinned as he spoke. "Hey there Seph! How've you been?" He gave Soren a smile and a nod, but otherwise didn't say much else. He listened intently as Seph spoke before he saw their Guardians up on the stage.

It seems Simon and Michalea are having an argument... The young Mori mused to himself as he watched it all take place. Then Michalea began to speak, and Daniel decided it would be a good idea to sit down and listen to her. After all, the woman was one of the people that saved him from his fears when he first arrived, being one of the first arrivals to the Isle to begin with. So sitting there, watching the Omarian give off her allure, he just merely wondered what she was up to, his scientific mind automatically picking apart her power again. Trying to charm her way into all of their hearts and minds? That's not something that usually leads to promising news.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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The Lady in Waiting


Hazel floated in the water of a small pond. She had found it when she was running one day and decided to go for a swim in it. She a black bikini with gold beads, floating on her back in the middle of the water in the peace and quiet. It was nice since she was usually the one who was always causing the disturbing or noise making around The Isle. Some people she knew were just like her, but others she knew liked quiet and being solitary. Hazel never let anyone know that she had this laid back, relaxing, quiet side.

Hazel was drifting into sleep in the water slowly, in and out. Suddenly, she was woken up from her peace and quiet, by the sound of Fleet, the Navarene Guardian. Fleet was yelling running around the Isle, he was calling out, "Meeting in the courtyard!" Hazel sprang up and stood in the waist deep water. She quickly got out of the water and ran to her bag. She opened it and took out her pair of white ripped skinny jeans and a white tank top with a horse on it. She wrapped her stylish scarf around her. With all her clothes on, as she was still wet, she slipped her black leather jacket on, not bothering to zip it up since she was in quite the hurry. She slipped her sandals on, grabbed her things and ran to the courtyard as fast as she could.

Hazel arrived in time, or at least that's what she thought. She greeted everyone and looked around for the shy girl. Hazel saw Seph and Daniel and walked over to them. She sat between the two and gave Seph a hug. "Hey Sephie." She beamed as she said hello to the quiet girl, in a happy-to-be-here voice. She then turned to Daniel and tugged at his sleeve saying, "Hi, Danny." in a very cheerful, yet quiet voice, careful to not interrupt her Guardian Michaela. She loved to give people cute nick names. She smiled at him, watching the Guardian's speak. 'I wonder what they are gonna say. Pfft better be good since I had to come over her from my me time.' Hazel thought to herself. Hazel whipped and shook her hair around to flick out all the water from it, careful not to hit anyone in the eye. She fluffed and ran her fingers through her hair blonde hair, making it very curly.

She looked over at the Guardians and looked over at the on coming people who continued to file into the beautiful courtyard. Hazel wished she could create an illusion of herself and go back to swimming, but it would be wrong to do so and she had to listen to the Guardians, you never know what they'll say. Besides no way she could do that with the Guardian there, she would notice and know what she had done so it wasn't the risk.


(Sorry it's short but here's her outfit to help you visualize. Your welcome. jk jk jk ;D http://static.becomegorgeous.com/img/arts/2010/Aug/14/2569/leather_jacket_outfit1_thumb.jpg )

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Renn Elliot
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#, as written by Mela
The Woman Trapped In Ice


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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn
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Audibly expressing his boredom through a variety of melodramatic grunts, sighs, and groans, Graham lay sprawled out on the floor of his room, stretching and curling his fingers absently towards the faint glow of the light twirling overhead...Reduced to playing with fragments of light...surely at some point, he must have slipped from moderately bored to completely out of his mind with tedium, there was no other practical explanation for such otherwise. Another deep sigh to add to the rooms growing collection of such, and Graham lazily rolled into a sitting position, chin resting on his hand as he contemplated what he could possibly do, yet again

Under normal circumstances, he'd probably go seek out Aaron, but the boy had wanted to be left to his own devices for the night and there seemed little point to bother him--most things done alone tended towards the dull-er side of things, anyways. His usual back-up plans of Seph and Soren had fallen through as well, both having disappeared off to who knows where, probably the library or some likewise monotonous location he was likely to never enter. There wasn't any senseless flattery to be reaped from Hazel, she'd likewise disappeared before he'd even awoken--halfway into the day, of course, practically nocturnal as he was. The frigid Mori girl had shut herself off from all and any this fine afternoon, sealed away in her cave of a room painting or some trite--monopolizing that adorable kitten of hers all to herself, the audacity! Last he'd seen him, Milo had been napping quite peacefully all day and far be it from Graham to disturb a man's rest, he had some standards. The glorious Vendi had taken to carrying lumber on behalf of the moody old wolf, which had proved a show in itself up until the point he had to follow to keep watching; far, far too much effort for it to be worth it by then, so he too was not a viable distraction. Even Graham's own dashing counterpart, Markus, was hardly viable entertainment as of the moment, prancing about as he was, doing exercise, ugh, no way would the lazed Graham ever partake of such activities--watch for a bit, to admire the sheen of sweat on muscle and all, sure, but actually exercise just for the sake of it, that was sheer madness!...and really, really boring, ugh, not to mention the smell, how distasteful.

Essentially everyone, who mattered to Graham at least, was indisposed in some form or another and so still he remained, horribly, terribly bored, lounging on the floor with absolutely nothing to do. It wasn't even like he could go explore the isle himself either, not because he felt some responsibility to obey the whims of the Guardians, but rather as he was sure there had to be something interesting happening today for everyone to be making such a hassle--he was waiting for the show. A show he was sure to not miss, even if he would have to endure an hour of mind-numbing, agonizing monotony until then. Again, a dramatic sigh, and again Graham plops down forcefully on the ground beneath him to twirl his fingers 'round the specks of light. If something didn't happen soon, he was going to burst, he was sure of it, little bits of Graham Confetti everywhere and anywhere...it'd be a hassle to clean up, at the very least.

It was then, as though the forces that be realized the danger a ridiculously bored Graham would present to the fabric of reality--or just by chance, that Fleet made his way into the previously locked chambers of Graham. "Meeting in the Courtyard!" the Navarene called once and then was gone, leaving a furiously blinking Graham in his wake to ponder how exactly he'd gone about opening the doors...Eh, oh well, probably best to not fret over such things, 'twas what news he was after anyways. With a speed uncharacteristic of the normally fairly languid Graham, he lunged from his sprawled position on the floor, in one fluid motion back on his feet and already on his way out the door. What little piqued the interest of Graham really did so, as his practical giddy prance down the corridors of the compound would attest.

In little to no time, he'd emerged in the courtyard where most had already by then gathered, scanning for the familiar faces of those previously preoccupied with painfully dull happenings, before spotting his preferred targets company; Aaron, Soren, Seph, Hazel, Milo, and even lame little Daniel--he'd tolerate Ren's being there, figuring the male to be as impassive and silent as usual 'round him and Darcy hardly even registered as being there at all in his mind. Trotting his way over, Graham made one gesture to the group, half peace-sign half-wave, took the spot directly in front of Aaron, and for the umpteenth time that day plopped onto the floor, and sprawled, reclining on his elbows just tall enough to catch sight of the show imminent to unfold.

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The night was theirs.



* * *



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn Character Portrait: Graham Lennox Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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Seph had to admit, she did seem to have made quite a few good friends since arriving. The setting in courtyard was much more usual for her than her meetings with Sinry in the library. Aaron had taken her hand, which had caused a momentary quickening of her heartbeat for some odd reason. It usually happened like that, and it went away quickly enough, especially with the distraction from all the others.

Daniel had come up and sat near her, asking her how she'd been. However, she gave him a shush motion with her pointer finger of her free hand even as she smiled cheerily at him. "No time, I'll tell you later," she whispered, in a playful tone. "She's about to start!" Hazel approached as well, slipping in between them. Seph returned the hug warmly. Hugs were perhaps her favorite human gestures of kindness, apart from gift giving, but gifts weren't nearly so common or easy to give as hugs.

She barely had enough time to give cheery waves to Milo, Xylea, and Graham, before Michaela began her story, and her powers took over. Seph was actually very fond of the illusions the Omarain could create, and this one was on another level from anything she'd seen before. She found herself entranced, by the darkness, the fire, the stars and the formations that Michaela willed them to form. The Omarain Guardian's voice echoed around her, or perhaps through her, she wasn't sure, but Seph soon found herself falling backwards, to lay comfortably on the ground, staring up at the constellations with a peaceful, blissful expression etched across her face.

She relaxed her small body as Michaela spoke of dragons and the fae, demons and elementals, and of course her kind, the kin born of the wolves. One of her hands dangled loosely in Aaron's, her other gently laid on her stomach. Her legs were outstretched, her dark hair falling in a beautiful mess on the ground around her head. Her breathing was slowed and calmed, and she felt she'd be content to simply lay there and listen and watch and feel whatever was going on for forever.

Most of what she said about the others Bloodlines was more or less lost upon her, but it certainly sounded exciting, if not somewhat sad. From the sounds of it, all of their kind had been far more prevalent in older days, and that things were certainly not as they once were. But her brief story of the children of the moon, those who had come to be known as the Balaren, resonated within her, even though she did not feel a part of the story. The warriors, the battles, the losing struggle that they fought against the humans. Seph had never been strong, never been a warrior. She never would have had a part in that story. But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to live up to the seeming honor of being wolfborn, of being closer to the wild, and her Bloodline's heritage, than any of the others. She would have to work hard to improve, or even to come close to the level the others had already achieved, but she was more than willing to try. Letting everyone down was not something Seph had in mind.

When the illusion ended, and Seph had returned to her previous sitting position, Michaela's next words proved the opportunity she was looking for. The morrow would bring challenges, chances to improve. Matthew was a strong teacher, and he would push Seph to her limits, she knew, but he was not unkind, nor was he unfair. It was what set him apart from the wolves she had known before, and what endeared him to her above all else. He understood her struggle, how things were more difficult for her than for the others. But he didn't treat her like a child for it; he didn't coddle her. He was going to help her overcome it, even if all the odds were stacked against her.

But, as Michaela declared, those were troubles for tomorrow. Tonight, they would enjoy themselves. Seph had been looking forward to a chance to connect with everyone, now that they were all finally here. With the Guardians gone save for Fleet, the revelry began in earnest, led by none other than Aaron, of course. She took a firmer grip on the boy's hand as he pulled her smoothly to her feet, and they started dancing. At first it was just her, Aaron, and Milo, and in fact, Seph wouldn't have even cared if no one else joined in, though she was sure many of the others would.

Seph had occasionally had the privilege of watching Aaron really dance, but even now, with this simple, loose, fun dance, she found herself somewhat in awe of his grace, how he seemed to put his physical beauty into motion. Seph herself was not nearly so graceful; her human body was even still awkward for her on occasion, though she was improving quickly. Her dance moves left something to be desired, but she expected if anyone was watching the dancing, they'd be watching Aaron, not her.

So she let Aaron's music envelop her, let his smile warm her, let his laughter elate her, and she ended up giving in the music, and into Aaron's infectious charm, more than she thought she would. She was soon laughing herself. On one spin, her eyes caught Harvey's gaze, and she beamed at him. Even he couldn't get her to feel negatively about anything at the moment.

There'd be trials and obstacles tomorrow, but tonight? Tonight would be simple, and fun.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen Character Portrait: Something Seraphine
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#, as written by Mela
The Woman Trapped In Ice


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan
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The Conflicted Knight


As Michaela told her tale, Daniel listened with a calm attention. He wasn't affected as easily by the Glamour's of the Omarian as others were, due to his scientific background. That part of him that told him to question everything, to find the reasons. As such, he just took in the information of the various bloodlines that surrounded him. The part about the Mori, however, caught his attention as the star-demon that took form seemed to stare right at him, and he knew he recognized that Pit Lord in particular. That was his ancestor, the Pit Lord that had been trying to influence him every night since the young man's awakening.

Once everything was settled down, he outright laughed at Aaron suddenly snatching up Seph and twirling away with her. He had to hand it to that Omarian, Aaron certainly knew how to lighten up a crowd. He then noticed out of the corner of his eye, Erin and more specifically her cat. Why is it rubbing up against Markus? He wondered before he saw Erin walking over to it. Oh...that sneaky little...no. Not going to happen. He could feel his anger rising, the taint in his blood just egging it on as the iris of his normally bright emerald eyes started to smolder with hints of ebon. The power of his Pit Lord ancestor burned strongly in him as glared at that damn cat and decided to speak with Erin who was walking nearby.

Walking over, he stood next to Erin and smiled to her. "Hey there Erin. Nice to see you." He chatted in a friendly manner. He knew about her torments, as she'd confided in him about them before. He stood there to listen to whatever she had to say, even if it was to bite his head off, but he just smiled and took it in, letting her vent if she needed too. Once she finished he just chuckled before waving as he moved off to snatch up Seph as she was dancing with Aaron.

"Hope you don't mind!" He called joyously as he lead the she-wolf in a dance or two, enjoying the time he spent with his friends. Daniel remembered when she first came to the island, looking lost and confused in the sea of faces. Seeing her vulnerability, he took the young woman under his wing and treated her like a dear friend, and a mentor if the need arose. He tapped her nose with a finger as he lead her into one of the two dances, taking them close to where Aaron was. "So, you never told me how your day was Seph." Giving her a cheeky grin he listened to her reply before chuckling and finishing off the dance they were a part of. Once that had finished, he gave her a friendly hug. "You have fun Seph!" The young Mori then passed her to Aaron and poked his shoulder. "Take care of her." He grinned at the Omarian before moving off once more into the party.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Renn Elliot
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Xylea was aware on the peripheral edges of her mind that someone other than Michaela had spoken to her, but she couldn't bring herself to respond. She was enraptured by Michaela's Glamour, allowing herself to be pulled in farther with every passing moment. A beautifully energetic smile bubbled to life on her face as the world around her faded away and all that remained were the bodies of students and guardians alike, seemingly orbiting in space. The stars all twinkling around her held her attention as she rolled onto her back and let her eyes un-focus on the universe. Letting her arms fall wide, she imagined an alien ship floating through orbit, pausing momentarily to take in the new developement in its domain: a floating gaggle of magical students. Laughing to herself, she reached out, trying to touch the stars above her and found she couldn't quite reach them causing her to frown. Then they started to shift, to change, to morph, and Xylea gasped in excitement, remembering Michaela and her speech she quickly flopped back onto her stomach, diligently watching the show.

She tried to pay attention to each of the quick histories Michaela mentioned, she really tried, but her eyes kept drawing back to a grouping of stars that whirled around itself near it's quartet. She couldn't help herself, it was just so wispy and pretty. She wanted to swirl, it beckoned, begged her to swirl with it. She giggled again, and waved to it with wiggly fingers, ecstatic because she somehow knew that it saw her too, and that it loved her. She had only vaguely listened to Michaela, so she wasn't entirely sure why the quartet made a show of respect to the students but she smiled at it in 'thanks'. Tilting her head to one side, she watched as all the pretty star patterns became more solid, more real, then disappeared. Startled out of her dream world, she looked to Michaela now, but had an increasingly hard time paying attention as her skin had begun zinging, pinging. She could feel all her tiny molecules bouncing about within her and she relished the feeling, closing her eyes. The only other time she'd felt this was when she'd gotten her hands and feet to dissipate into the air around her. Something told her it wouldn't have been appropriate at this moment, so Xylea bit her lip to hold in her joyful tinkle of laughter.

Just as abruptly as the prickling of her skin had begun though, it ended. Pouting, Xylea looked around to see if anyone else had noticed and was completely confused by how many people were standing. Looking back to where the guardians were, her eyebrows shot up, they were gone! All of them! Where had they gone? When had they gone? More importantly, could she go get some ice cream? Curiously she glanced at the Compound considering her options. Just as she'd come to the conclusion on exactly what flavor she wanted (blue bubblegum with chocolate sprinkles and marshmallow sauce) the music began and Xylea giggled, ice cream thoughts gone in an instant. She wiggled her shoulders as she lay on her back, a goofy, duck-lipped, playful scowl crossing her face. The very picture of youthful enjoyment, she threw her arms above her head and started wiggling all over: toes, fingers, nose. She didn't question the reason she'd suddenly been filled with happiness, she simply embraced it and let its warmth radiate through and around her as she wiggled on the ground. Raising her arms to the sky she closed her eyes yet again and hummed along to the rhythm happily.

"Up we go! Time to dance!" Xylea gave a tiny gasp of surprise as she felt strong hands grasp hers and a pleasant tingle shoot down her arms, warming her. Without opening her eyes she knew who it was and allowed Artemis to pull her up to standing. He was strong, and she was light, so not only did she come to stand in front of him, but she momentarily floated skyward, just past where her toes were on the ground. Smiling beautifully she enjoyed the slower-than-normal descent back to earth. She opened her eyes then and looked at Artemis, reflecting his bright smile with her own high-wattage grin. "Dancing's my favorite!" The words came out bubbly and light as she let him lead for a moment, gliding along with him. Had anyone been paying close attention, they would have noticed her feet had still not fully come back in contact with the ground as she flowed around. Xylea's focus stayed on Artemis longer than was normal under the circumstances for it wasn't one shiny thing pulling her attention but a plethora of interesting moments happening all around her. So she bopped along to the movement, enjoying the tiny static jolts that tingled along her palms when she touched his. Artemis lifted one of her hands above her head and, guiding her, began a spin. Obligingly, Xylea whirled about in a circle, letting the wind play with her hair. She luxuriated in the wind tickling through her tresses, and followed her new dance partner in a twirl away from Aaron.

Graceful and dexterous, her seemingly solo dance would have made Aaron proud. She felt the familiar rush of air as she tugged on the wind, pulling autumn leaves and dandelion sprigs toward her. The natural confetti she'd created floated around her and twirled with her, ebbing and flowing, a show involving her own type of constellation theatrics. As suddenly as she began, she let all of her natural visual effect drop the ground, her self included. As her toes hit the earth gracefully, she put a finger to her temple and scrunched her eyes in thought. Then, suddenly, she spoke, "Tanzen ist die Bitte um Aufhebung der Schwerkraft. German! Hmmm..." A few cross language translations and then, "That's it, Aaron!" She called out the Omarain laughingly, "'Dancing is a request for the recession of gravity!' You're a genius!"

Her attention broke again as the ground beneath her feet... flexed. Her eyes wide she looked down and spread her toes in the grass, watching as different shoots of green started growing closer together as though the very earth was tightening beneath her feet. Then she heard Renn's voice and looked up watching him with soft features. He reminded her of a clock, or the tide, or the moon, or a wall, or a good pair of high heels. Sturdy, dependable, always there for you and never-changing. She liked that about him. He didn't confuse her as often as other people did because he always stayed the same Renn. She waved at him gracefully.

Seph and Daniel wiggled into view and Xylea's focus shifted yet again. Amused, she watched the dancing, her skin a buzz with everyone's energy. She smiled warmly as Milo walked over, out of breath. She had the random thought of somehow forcing air into his lungs, then thought better of it for fear she might hurt him in some way. Shaking her head, she let him come to her, a warmth filling her and radiating outward the closer he got. "Whew! Who knew fun was so much work?" Immediately Xylea's smile dropped and the confusion set in. Her brow furrowed as she dissected what he'd said. Work wasn't supposed to be fun, from what she'd gathered from her parents. If anything, it was quite the opposite of fun. Fun was supposed to be enjoyable, something you wanted to do, and work was something no one ever wanted to do. Maybe Milo wasn't having fun then! Maybe he was working... but why? and on what? and how did he come to be out of breath then?"Fun shouldn't be work," her words held a deep concern for her friend, "That's why it's called 'fun'. Were you working! Oh Milo!" Xylea's lips turned downwards as a thought struck her, "Oh wait! Eísai kalá? Are you okay? You aren't sick are you?" Her hand drifted to his forehead as she mimicked a motion her mother had always done to her as a child when she'd thrown up or felt like she was on fire. She wasn't really sure what the purpose of the motion was, so she let the back of her hand just sit on his forehead, waiting for whatever was meant to happen, to happen. "Michaela said we were supposed to enjoy ourselves! You can't enjoy yourself if your sick! Or if you are working... Don't be working! That's it, Milo, my friend!" Leaving her right hand on his forehead, she snapped her fingers with her left and turned away from him as she'd seen that Sherlock guy do whenever he made a statement about what he'd discovered, "As mas apolamvánoun! Let's enjoy ourselves!"

Without a second thought to whether or not Milo could be ill, she looked to him expectantly, her hand still on his forehead. Her eyes were glowing with anticipation of whatever "fun" Milo could come up with for them.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore
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#, as written by throne
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We always have the rhythm here, in our blood and in our souls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cast a spell on me, spell on me
His hands came up as his knees bent and unbent to the beat, fingers splayed and dancing on their own as he wove his arms quickly in front of his fellow prince’s face. He grabbed hold of Graham’s hands, drawing his arms to full extension.

You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me
On each fell on me, he released alternating hands, right and then left, and dropped down until his rear nearly brushed the ground before springing back up, looking up at Graham all the while, with desire joining firelight to dance in his eyes.

And I decided you look well on me, well on me
He’d come to stand again, still holding Graham’s right hand with his left, and twirled with it above his head, backing up until Graham could feel Aaron’s warmth against his chest. The first well on me accompanied him bringing the captured hand to cross his own chest and alight on his left hip, and the second did the same in mirrored fashion, left on right.

So let’s go somewhere nowhere else can see, you and me
He slid down Graham’s body, never breaking contact, and on the word see, tilted his head back quickly, staring up at the Mori yet again. He disengaged and rose on the following words, pivoting about to face him once more.

Turn the lights down now, now I’ll take you by the hand
He started to sing as he danced, maintaining eye-contact all the while. His right leg swung out for a side kick before he drew it back in, dragging his heel along the ground and splaying his arms to either side.

Hand you another drink, drink it if you can
His arms came back in, dragging down his own chest to finally rest, provocatively, just inside either of his hips.

Can you spare a little time, time is slipping away
He snapped his hands away from his groin, forming fists, which he splayed open mere centimeters from Graham’s eyes, which had no doubt been turned downward until then, and then slipped off to the left, shuffling on the word away and letting his head and body curve in that direction.

Away from us so stay, stay with me I can make, make you glad you came
He kept putting on distance, then pivoted again and all-but-marched back to the beat, arriving on the first instance of the word make. He twirled again, and by the word came, his bum was very snuggly pressed into Graham’s crotch, regardless of the state it was currently in.


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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Vendicare
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Seph couldn't help but laugh a little at Milo. Any traces of self consciousness she had at her own dancing were wiped far away once she was dancing alongside Milo. Of course, Seph was no expert critic of dancing technique, but she couldn't help but feel that Milo lacked to a much more severe degree than her the required grace needed for dancing of any kind. Whereas Aaron's dancing could take her breath away, Milo's seemed to just make her smile broadly and feel better about herself.

Maybe that was the point? She'd never thought about it that way.

Daniel came in for a dance, and Seph was smoothly transitioned from partner to partner. He was no Aaron, of course, but that wasn't entirely a bad thing. Trying to keep up with the Omarain boy was pretty taxing, to tell the truth, and Seph was glad for a dance with Daniel, as she hadn't seen him yet today. Or rather, hadn't talked with him. She was quite certain Daniel was keeping an eye on her whenever he could. Because of his desire to look out for her, of course. Daniel was so kind like that. And while she hoped that soon enough she wouldn't need the Mori watching out for her, Seph understood that there were still a great deal of things she didn't understand, and a great deal of ways she could unknowingly get herself into trouble. So he was her safety net, she supposed. Always there to catch her if she tripped.

"My day... was wonderful!" she said in between breaths. "For the most part. I did... accidentally make Sinry fall down a flight of stairs, but she was alright! And... I guess I helped her find something, so it worked out!" Thinking of Sinry, Seph tried to get a few looks at the people who hadn't joined in on the dancing, for reasons she couldn't fathom. She did not see Sinry among them, but she could have missed her or something. But then, Sinry didn't seem as comfortable around other people as she did Seph, so maybe it made sense that she didn't want to dance with all of them.

As the dance just about ended, Seph stopped rather suddenly at hearing Renn's voice. She didn't really understand what he meant, about setting the tone tonight, for tomorrow. For one, she didn't think she grasped the phrase as well as she should have. Setting the tone... and she had thought tonight wouldn't have affected tomorrow. They were going to have fun tonight, and work tomorrow. They were two totally separate things, as far as she knew. Unless they kept dancing all they way into tomorrow, but Seph didn't think she could dance for that long.

But there were drinks over there, that Renn and Elvis and Vendicare had brought out. That was worth checking out, as all the dancing had made her somewhat thirsty. Maybe she would go get something soon.

Their dance ended, Daniel led Seph back over to Aaron. She heard him say something about her having fun before Aaron swooped in on her. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her small form into the air in a hug, feeling that same little flutter in her stomach as he spun her in two complete circles before letting her feet touch the ground again. Her stay with Aaron this time was short-lived, however, as Graham had come forward and requested a dance of him.

"Go for it," Seph said, wiping away a bit of sweat from her brow, "I think I'll get something to drink." As Aaron began his dance with Graham, Seph took her temporary leave of the impromptu dance floor, taking a moment admire the beauty of Xylea's dance with a smile before heading off towards the drinks that had been brought forward.

Reaching the drinks that Renn and the other guys had brought out, Seph found that she didn't recognize even a few of the names. Tequila. Whiskey. Wine. She'd had some wine a few times at Sonja's place in Anchorage, but it hadn't tasted all that great to her. Maybe these were other kinds? There sure seemed to be a big variety of them. One thing was certain... there was no water.

She looked up towards Renn, who would probably see the uncertainty on her face. The two of them were on pretty good terms now, especially since Renn had stopped asking about her being a wolf so much. She found him to be very kind once she'd gotten to know him a little better. Maybe he was a little awkward at times, but hey, so was she.

"So... which one is the best?" she asked, shifting her weight onto one foot, her eyes passing back and forth over the display of drinks. "If there is a best, I mean. Is there something you prefer?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Graham Lennox Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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#, as written by Mela
The Woman Trapped In Ice


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen
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The Lady in Waiting


Hazel watched as her guardian Micheala used her powers to create brilliant spectacles of dragons, wolfs, fairies, and all the ancestors of the bloodlines. She explained what made each and every one unique and astounding in their own way. She was amazed at how well she was able to control the illusions. She was struck by all the dazzling colors and movements that made the creatures look so real that if you wanted to you could touch them and she was just that skilled in her abilities that she could actually make you touch and feel their heart beats and body heat. 'I wanna be that good! Now I'm going to try extra hard.' Hazel thought to herself in her head.

She was sitting on the grass between Daniel and Seph when Micheala, closed the show and then after a minute of thinking of how Hazel was to go about the rest of her days on the Isle, to progress in her Glamour, was she interrupted by the sound of music. Hazel looked up and saw no radio, stereo, or phone. It was odd and then the thought came to her and her eyes met the face of her fellow Omarain, Aaron. 'He's probably using his Glamour or something to start a little party with some music. Typical trick.' She smirked as she watched people start to get up and dance.

Hazel being a bit caught off guard by the sudden sounds of music decided to walk over to a small stone wall. She brushed off the dirt with her hands and watched as many people started dancing with each other. She looked over and saw Elvis and Harvey over to one side then saw Daniel go over and dance with Drusa. She did not like Drusa at all. Drusa was mean to her and just seemed to not like anything about Hazel. Hazel did not like her doing that, it wasn't like she had done anything to Drusa, but Hazel being the good person, always avoided her, afraid she might want to cause a fight. Hazel looked around at everyone dancing together and lifted up her legs to put on the wall as well. She hugged them close to her chest and smiled at everyone having a fun time. 'At least they all are having fun.' She thought to reassure herself. 'I might just go soon, perhaps the pond again.'

Setting

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Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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#, as written by Mela
The Woman Trapped In Ice


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

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

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

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

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

Setting

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Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan
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Image


"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.

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Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan
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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.

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Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson
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#, as written by Mela
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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen Character Portrait: Artemis Hulston
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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!