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Erin Silver Alier

"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."

0 · 1,759 views · located in The Isle

a character in “Bloodlines”, as played by Mela


Erin Silver Alier
The Mori Bloodline


At A Glance
Full Name: Erin Silver Alier
Age: 21
Birthdate: 3rd of May 1991
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Bloodline: The Mori (The Infernal Brood)

- Eyeliner
- Privacy
- Old books
- Cars
- Intelligence
- Painting

- Ignorance
- Country music
- Loud people
- Over-excitable people
- Whining
- Judgmental people

- Christianity, for obvious reasons. "Freaks me out, oh and then there's the whole fact that the believers can easily kill me. Not a fun thought."
- Discovery. "Imagine if humans figure it out, then what would happen? Gives me the creeps just to think of the prospect."
- The cold. You might not call it fear exactly, but she more than just dislikes it. Freezing to death just seems very unbecoming.

Goals: Living off of her art. "I love painting. It sort of helps with the darkness inside of me... like I'm transferring it onto canvas. It sounds weird, I know, but it may be why my art is so... dark." Erin would also like to actually be able to keep her darker nature hidden with minimal effort extended.

Erin is pretty hard to figure out, constantly fighting the darkness lurking within, she likes to keep to herself a lot of the time. She's not the social bird in any way, but the few people she does let in will see a loyal, intelligent, protective, although slightly apathetic, young woman. She's not rude or mean on purpose, but she may come off as such just to keep you at a distance. In her experience, people close to her get hurt, so she tries her very best to keep most people from slipping through the cracks of the ice wall she put up around her heart. She never spends time worrying what you think about her; she is who she is, and if that's a problem... well, then there are fortunately many millions of people in the world you can talk to instead of her.

She won't be the girl you'll see laughing and smiling with a group of people. Not because she doesn't find things funny, but because her past has taught her not to show it. Most of the time, Erin is expressionless and impossible to read anything off of. Her demon companion, Irayah, is the only one she publicly shows outright affection for. To others, she removes herself with cold indifference or sarcasm. Oftentimes both. Still... she secretly longs for the warmth of true, close friendship, or maybe even more. Erin has convinced herself, and has to keep reminding her heart, that such things are impossible for her to achieve. Behind her outer bravado, Erin truly does cares, despite her stubborn attempts not to, but she most times lacks empathy; the ability to put herself in someone else's shoes. Perhaps because her own are already so damned difficult. She doesn't need to take on those of others. Aside from that, her inner darkness compels her not to care. She has to fight that every time someone gets hurts, because deep inside herself, she knows she should care. That she doesn't, tends to worry her.

Appearance Notes:
- Tattoo on left shoulderblade
- Her emerald-green eyes tend to darken when she's angry, which fortunately isn't very often

Bloodline Gift: "They like to say I'm gifted in the art of binding, compelling and summoning my so-called relatives. They might be right." In all honestly, Erin scares herself with her abilities sometimes. However, that doesn't keep her from using them. In fact she's keeping a demon pet. It's a lesser demon at the size of a young cat, although bigger than a kitten, but it's bound to her and usually sits on her right shoulder.

Bloodline Weakness:
- Christianity, as is norm for her kind.
- Her dark side. Erin has what she calls a devil on her shoulder, almost like a separate part of her, but powerful all the same. Sometimes it takes her a great deal of effort getting it under control, keeping herself from hurting people around her. She doesn't always succeed though.

Other Skills:
- Painting. Erin paints dark, but eerily beautiful pictures. They will almost captivate you with the intensity of the strokes and colours applied.
- Kickboxing. She was taught by... a friend, and she's very good at it too. Erin swings a mean right hook - don't be fooled by her slight form.

"I was a terrible child. I admit it. In all honesty, I guess you could blame my brother... and parents. Or... well, parent, since the plural version doesn't apply if you only have your father around. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father hated me for it. I'd killed the love of his life - something he'd very often remind me in one of his drunken stupors. Oh, I wasn't raped until the age of 10, though, and it wasn't by my father. In fact, my older brother had thought it a fun game the first time. "Shh, we're just playing, Erry-bear. No need to be afraid. See, it's nice? Just lick it. That's it... now put it in your mouth." I'll never forget the gentle, soothing tone of his 16 year old voice guiding me to my very first blowjob. Sick creep, he was, and though I knew my father was quite aware, he never made a move to stop the sexual abuse Jake executed on his only 10 years old sister. It kept right on going for a while and my behavior grew violent and defensive, doing everything in my power to act out whichever way I could. I stopped going to school, preferring anything to the petyful look in my teachers' eyes. They could tell something was wrong, but I wasn't talking. Then, at the age of 14, I ran away after my father had finally admitted to me that he knew about Jake abusing me, and that he was glad I finally got what I deserved. He told me that I should never have been born - that I was an abomination. Until then, his hate had only been evident in his eyes. Hearing the words stung.

So yeah, hurt, abused and broken, I ran away from home, never to return. I wasn't alone for long on the streets; I'd begun looking like a woman, so I suppose someone taking notice of a lone, vulnerable girl shouldn't have been surprising. That's when I met Wesley Pertner, a small time drugdealer with a a serious love of his leather whip. At the time, however, he was just a smiling, attractive young man who offered me a roof over my head, and food. Naivety has since been beat out of me, fortunately. And when I say beat, I do mean it quite literally. I hadn't stayed with Wesley for more than a week when he first entered the small livingroom with a long whip in his hands. The look in his eyes was as sadistic as anything you'd ever see. Although Wesley's abuse was degrading and painful, he never made sexual moves, safe for the fact that he always forced me to take his beatings naked. I'm sure he just wanted to see the art he was making with my blood, though. Laughter and smiles only served me more whippings, and so I learned to hide those things. It wasn't hard... amusement wasn't a part of my everyday life, and I merely stopped watching comedy on TV.

I was 15, and half a year had passed with Wesley, when my awakening came. Of course, at the time, I'd had no clue what was going on and merely considered the dreams very life-like nightmares. Or dreams, perhaps. Mostly they were of me killing Wesley in the most horrific ways; me standing in front of a great wall of fire, creatures of nightmares spilled forth in hordes, running past me and into the world, or things very much to that resemblance. I don't remember much of the day Wesley died; most of it is a blur, I have to say. It was the same day I met Irayah, such and ugly, yet adorable creature. I was standing in a pool of blood, in front of my dead tormentor. To this day, I'm still not sure what went down, but I think I might have called for the help of my ancestors in my sleep, and ended up summoning Irayah. How I ended up standing in front of him, the bloody creature in front of me, I have no idea. I'm not sure I want to know. I later learned that I had subconsciously bound Irayah to me, not that any of us minded. She likes my company, and I enjoy hers as well. She speaks to me in my mind, although she's always stayed silent with everyone else. I've also found that I can reply in much the same way, focusing to send a certain thought her way.

I don't quite know when the darkness began taking over, but it did... gradually. It changed me into what I needed to be instead of what I actually was. It's odd how I needed this part of me to awaken before I could finally learn to get by on my own. I spent the next long time of my life on the streets, running, afraid someone would come look for me... and find Irayah. That sure would've brought up a lot of questions, wouldn't it? We got by, she and I, begging, stealing... whatever got us food and water. Fortunately, she didn't need it. It wasn't until later that I found out that she's actually living off of me, lapping up some of the energy I get from food. I suppose it's only fair. It's just like I'm sharing my food with her. I became cruel and well.. downright evil, using my natural intellect and the dark whispers to find my way. Then I met Johnny Sterling, and I'm not going to dig very far on this subject. For one, it hurts too much, and other than that I can't say I fully understand what he did for me myself. All I know, is that Johnny was the guardian angel I'd never had. He brought the best out in me and I learned to control the dark side. He became more than a friend - much more, even though I had to hide Irayah from him. He was an artist, and through him, I began painting myself, finding that it helped relieve me of the darkness inside. He'd often compliment my art... stare at it for hours at a time, muttering to himself about it being entrancing and scary at the same time.

I didn't understand then, how the painting could captivate him so. Now I know, however, that my paintings are evil. They're demonic in and of themselves, and humanity has always been drawn to their darker urges. My paintings are temptations hard to resist... which is why I hide them most of the time. I'm working on changing the effect they have on humans. Johnny grew quiet, his moods changing from ecstatic to brooding in 0.5 seconds. When I awoke one morning, he was staring at me with widened, frozen eyes. His body had grown cold, his mouth open in a soundless scream. With that, I ran and the darkness came back. At this point, I was 18, and truly confused, not understanding what was happening to me, or what had happened to Johnny. All I knew, was that I needed to find out, and that I had to keep running. Along the way, I met several people who I let in, searching for someone to fill the void Johnny had left in my heart. They all ended up just like him. Lovers and friends alike. It didn't matter. One day they were alive, and the next they just weren't. I think it's the darkness... demons who that part of my summons while the other part is asleep. It doesn't want to let go, and so it kills every ray of light entering my life.

My Guardian, Dustin, came into my life about 7 months ago. I don't want to bore you with the details here, but after a great deal of consideration, my lonely heart couldn't quite resist the temptation. He offered me people just like me, a place to stay, a chance to learn about my powers... a chance to understand what had happened to my loved ones. I couldn't refuse. Besides... I'd weathered so much already, if I died, then I'd die. I keep to myself mostly at the isle, although a few people are starting to breach the walls around my heart. I'm afraid to let them in, though. What if they die like so many others? I don't want more people to die because of me. Dustin is one of those few. He's taught me how to control my powers. First, though, he took care explaining what I was, what I would be able to do. It's given me a little hope that I might be able to keep a lid on the darkness even in my sleep at some point. Then, perhaps... sometime, I might be able truly let someone in again."

Irayah - Erin's demonpet
Name: Irayah
Species: minor demon

Irayah looks like this in her real form, with black hair, pit-black eyes and a darkred body. Although, most of the time, the little demon conceals herself and looks like this, so very few actually know that she's a real demon. If you touch her, she will feel exactly like the kitten she looks like.

Demonic Powers:
- The art of concealment, meaning Irayah can both become invisible and/or change her appearance. Although, she can only change into that black kitten - the one most people see her as.
- She cannot fly as a cat, but in her true form, her wings carry her effortlessly. She's also very fast.



So begins...

Erin Silver Alier's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Omar Maria Media Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Vendicare Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn Character Portrait: Graham Lennox Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Drusa Deszled Character Portrait: Nila Loriette Pearce Character Portrait: Wynston Watson Character Portrait: Tabitha Ezerath Character Portrait: Renn Elliot Character Portrait: Tally Roawn Character Portrait: Ferne Baumiller Character Portrait: Artemis Hulston
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#, as written by throne

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.”

* * *


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.


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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Soren Corosa Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Omar Maria Media Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Vendicare Character Portrait: Hazel Ebony Highlynn Character Portrait: Graham Lennox Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Something Seraphine Character Portrait: Drusa Deszled Character Portrait: Nila Loriette Pearce Character Portrait: Wynston Watson Character Portrait: Tabitha Ezerath Character Portrait: Renn Elliot Character Portrait: Tally Roawn Character Portrait: Artemis Hulston
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#, as written by throne

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The night was theirs.

* * *


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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.


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 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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen Character Portrait: Something Seraphine
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Something Seraphine: The Avant-Garde

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Characters Present

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Vendicare Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Renn Elliot Character Portrait: Artemis Hulston
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#, as written by Attie

He caught the keys in one swift motion, nodding to Michaela as she left. The keys she'd provided only went to a few select things, things that Renn wasn't sure the charges needed on a night that they'd have to wake up in the morning - early no doubt, but it wasn't his call to make. In addition, Fleet would be staying as well, so he wouldn't be alone in helping maintain the peace between them and ensuring everyone had a pleasant, safe evening.

As if trying to wake him from his thoughts, or just his own way of a friendly gesture, Artemis had made his way behind him, waking him with his touch. Renn laughed a bit, looking over his shoulder at his friend as passed because it had tickled in a sense - and now his hair was shocked and ready for a party. Perhaps it was that reason he'd done it. Had he messed it up back there on the beach with Darcy? Darcy... There would no doubt be a point in the evening in which Renn would get Artemis back - maybe he'd raise a piece of the ground just to trip him or something. Nothing dangerous. He wasn't sure, but the game was on.

As he turned on his heel, Renn had apparently been oblivious to the people who'd sprung in to dance. While he understood the notion as an entertaining passtime, it wasn't in his ... Well, he certainly wouldn't be joining without some alcohol. -- Speaking of, Elvis seemed to be on the same page as he overheard, "Oh no. No, no, no. I dont do parties unless hard liquor is involved.". Watching Elvis move, he found himself next to Vendicare. Renn had no problem with either of them, as he knew the pair just about as much as he bothered to get to know anyone, but there was a first for everything, and with someone with two solid feet on the ground, it wasn't as if he lived off of their approval. He headed in their direction, nodding up at the pair to get their attention with a jingle of the keys in his hand.

"I don't do parties without the alcohol either." He'd heard the thick Italian accent respond to whatever Elvis had spoken to him, but he shook the thought to intervene from his mind. It didn't matter. "Come help me lift all of it out here, yeah?"

With that, he breezed past the bunch with (hopefully) the pair behind him for additional heavy lifting. They'd passed Darcy on the way, and Renn offered her a smile only to be matched with... Well, whatever it was, he hadn't expected it. Was everything okay? Was he supposed to be reading in to this? Was it nothing? Fuck this social barrier.. It wouldn't matter anyway. After a few drinks in him, he could loosen up and.. Well, he'd never been drinking after his power's awakening. Who knew what could happened?

They found their way through the darkened kitchen and Renn flipped on the lights so they could make their way to the walk-in fridge. Upon entrance, there was a metal door that led to a cellar of sorts. You could see everything on the inside from the fridge, as it was barred like a jail. One could see exactly what they wanted before the lock clicked open and allowed passage, and once it did, Renn found himself at least three different kinds of tequila, whiskey, and a box to fit it all in. Once that box was filled, he pointed over to a keg so that one of the other two could grab it. Behind it was a rack of bottles - various wines, maybe some more liquor, he wasn't sure but with their addition, there was certainly more than enough to entertain the party tonight.

After the three men juggled who would carry what, they brought it out, locked the door behind them, and made their way back to the party. Renn's voice called out like the announcement of an earthquake, the ground hardening beneath them to grab their attention after a few staggered here and there. "Listen up! You heard what Michaela said... Tomorrow we'll all be training more intensely than those of us who have been here for a while will have ever performed. What you do tonight sets the tone for the new lives we lead tomorrow. Handle this information with care.- With that in mind... Have a great evening! We are the Bloodlines!"

His moment of attention came and went as quickly as he'd demanded it. He set up the keg for the easiest dispersement for others, scattered the bottles and various drinks on a nearby table barrel or two, and then left it sitting there. Thanking the pair who'd helped him before taking his leave, he made his way from the others beginning to gather at the alcohol to a corner across the way. Isolated, watching, and calm. That's what he wanted, but as he watched the others enjoying themselves and the others that would head for the alcohol, he couldn't help but wonder:

Will we even wake up tomorrow?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Something Seraphine
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The Smiling Fiend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Darcy Lilith Ratri Character Portrait: Milo Reed Corner Character Portrait: Seph Winterfoot Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Graham Lennox Character Portrait: Daniel Sanderson Character Portrait: Xylea Parihan Character Portrait: Renn Elliot Character Portrait: Tally Roawn Character Portrait: Artemis Hulston
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#, as written by throne

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.


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 Character Portrait: Renn Elliot
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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.


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Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Aaron Highmore Character Portrait: Markus Wright
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The Smiling Fiend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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.


Characters Present

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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Elvis Johnson Character Portrait: Markus Wright Character Portrait: Vendicare Character Portrait: Harvey Mak Chinnen Character Portrait: Something Seraphine Character Portrait: Renn Elliot
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Something Seraphine: The Avant-Garde

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why? her eyes pleaded.

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

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

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

"I-.." she repeated unsure.

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

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

"I'm sorry!" she blurted.

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

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

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


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Markus Wright
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The Smiling Fiend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Characters Present

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.


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Character Portrait: Erin Silver Alier Character Portrait: Markus Wright
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The Smiling Fiend

He could see the thoughts running through that head as he examined his blonde companion with obsidian eyes. His wings flicked, impatient, as if they had a life of their own. Which very well could be true. Then she finally decided to take his hand, and he grinned. It was a shame that he hadn't phased her yet, but the night was still young, and he was adept at his game. Of course, Erin was a Mori. Which made the challenge all the more difficult; all the more appealing. The man gripped her hand in one of his, bracing himself with his other hand against the rock. Once he got her halfway up the rest would be easy, his wings counterbalancing her weight and the force of gravity. As he pulled her up he shifted into a crouch until she was sitting next to him on the rock.

He sighed triumphantly, For a couple moments there he'd thought that he was going to drop her, but he hadn't. Before he answered her snark/question, he made an examination of his wings. He hadn't tried too particularly hard, and the results of that were showing. he poked the raw flesh with an irritated finger, and it pulsed back at him. No scales today. They were heavier though. Pros and cons to that. Pros and cons. The Mori turned his attention back to Erin, quirking a self assured grin. He was stabbing into the dark, but once Markus got something in his head there was no doubt in the forefront of his mind that he was wrong.

"Well, sweetheart. I know you. We're alike, you and I. And I wouldn't follow anyone into the woods unless I was going to get something out of it. And don't tell me that it's just because you didn't like Aaron's music or some bull like that, darling, because then you could have just skulked back inside. I'm sure your precious puppy Daniel would have followed you." As the man spoke, his wings were busy withering, a gangrene black spreading across them, shrinking them until they melded seamlessly into his back again. He pulled his shirt back on, the bloody cold was starting to get to him, followed by his jacket, before continuing. "You want something that I can give you." He leaned back against the tree, folding his arms of his chest lazily, his blue eyes fixed on Erin like he was hunting her.

"Of course, if you don't want to tell me for nothing, we can make a trade. I'll tell you a story, then you tell me what's on your mind, eh?" Phase two initiated. Markus dug in his pockets to see if he had anything to make his little story more interesting. It was quite clear that he was going to tell his story whether she liked it or not. It was her fault for dallying. Aha! From his coat, Markus withdrew his lighter. One of his lighters. He had many, even though he didn't smoke very often. he just liked lighters. And fire. Of course.

"Once upon a time," The man began as he pulled the lighter apart, looking quite serious except for the gleam of amusement in his eye. "there was a little boy. He had two parents that loved each other, and they loved God. They carefully taught their little boy everything they wanted him to know, everything they wanted him to do so he could be perfect." As he spoke, Markus's eyes dropped from Erin and onto the stone between them. In a quick motion he spread lighter fluid in his desired pattern and began to reassemble the silver object with sure fingers. "They didn't know that his very blood was tainted. But they discovered their son's deformity when he, trapped in the corner of his room, about to be punished for something he didn't do, discovered his blood and transformed into an amazing monster." Markus reached down and lit his lighter fluid cross on fire. The fire spread across it's allotted area quickly, then disappeared, its fuel eaten away all too quickly. "They fled, but returned when the little boy couldn't hold the body any longer. The father wielded a cross, struck the boy down, holding it to his son's throat, intent on forcing the young lad's head to part company with his body. If they couldn't have their perfect son, they were perfectly fine with having no son at all. The boy wasn't too pleased with that."

Markus leaned back again, returning his lighter to his pocket. "He taught them why they shouldn't mess with a Mori." He said darkly, quite aware of the lie he was implying. Then he stretched and grinned. "Then end. Now it's your turn, doll." he said as he folded his arms behind his head, looking pleased with himself. It was quite a good rendition, if he did say so himself. He'd need more lighter fluid though, he'd nearly exhausted his supply with his pretty little drawing. "And if you don't tell me, then I'll have to irritate you out of your mind until you do." He said cheerfully. "And you and I both know that I'm quite good at that."


Characters Present

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


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

"Well, sweetheart. I know you. We're alike, you and I. And I wouldn't follow anyone into the woods unless I was going to get something out of it. And don't tell me that it's just because you didn't like Aaron's music or some bull like that, darling, because then you could have just skulked back inside. I'm sure your precious puppy Daniel would have followed you." Markus began after he’d pulled her up and Erin rolled her eyes. She’d been a little surprised he’d even pulled her all the way. Of course she’d tried to help, but from this angle there wasn’t much for her to use as support, which mean that she’d been completely at Markus’ ‘mercy’ so to speak, and she hated it. “Something that you can give me, huh?” Erin said after he’d added the last bit, her voice dry. “Well, that certainly sounds interesting, doesn’t it?” She was baiting him, and she didn’t give two shits. Erin moved to sit with her legs folded under her, watching him. “And what if I don’t want Daniel to follow me? What then?” she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Then he proposed a trait and Erin merely looked at him impassively. What was he up to now, the big oaf? She didn’t doubt he’d tell her regardless of what she said, so she kept quiet. Erin wasn’t a big talker anyway, so she supposed it was a good thing that Markus did… if one didn’t like silence. However, it just so happened that Erin did indeed like silence. Very much so. A little change was alright once in a while though, so she could deal with Markus in small dosages without going mental. Nope, wait, she was already pretty mental. Suppose she was just generally screwed then. As Markus began putting forth lighters, Erin mulled the situation over. What the hell was he trying to do, here? Irayah had settled down next to Erin, watching Markus intently, which to Erin meant that it at least wouldn’t be bothering her. She shook her head and moved a little more, scooting so that she could lean against the tree next to the rock and watch Markus at the same time. Might as well get settled in; it appeared this would be one of his notorious speeches. Irayah stayed where she was.

As Markus began telling his story, Erin listened only with half an ear. He hadn’t been at the Island for very long, true, but in the time he had, Erin had gotten used to Markus spouting bullshit on a daily basis. It was sort of his thing. When he began spreading lighter fluid on the rock, she cocked her head to the side a little, wondering what he was doing. Irayah moved in the next second, quickly settling herself in on Erin’s lap, which again made her wonder. She glanced the kitten, and a familiar voice sounded in her head, ”cross” was all she said, the sound shaky and downright terrified. Erin almost frowned, but managed to remain completely impassive as she watched Markus. What the hell was he making a cross for? Then the fire came and Erin visibly frowned, scooting a little further away by pure instinct. Irayah, for one, wailed and scrambled onto Erin’s shoulder again, trying to hide itself in her hair. She could always put that down to a cat scared of fire… or maybe that it had merely been surprised. Erin knew it was the image projected though, and that’s when she figured it out. He was trying to scare her?

His story had been dark and she’d sensed bits of truth in there, but she had a feeling – it was Markus after all – that a lot of it was also over dramatized. So was it his own story then? With a bit of glitter added? Or someone else’s? His power fit from what she’d seen… more or less. Although his wings had seemed kind of puny, especially the way they’d sort of… withered away. It was weird. Not particularly scary to her – probably due to past experiences – but ugly all the same. Then again, demonic features had a tendency to be. She didn’t miss the glint of amusement in his eyes and she shook her head at him as he finished his story. She quietly took Irayah in her hands and put her into her lap, running her fingers through the black fur to calm down the creature. It was still shivering in fear. She sent a pointed stare in Markus’ direction, completely ignoring his words. He talked too much anyways. She couldn’t be expected to actually listen all the time.

Irayah slowly unwound in her lap, and Erin remained silent for a few seconds until she looked at Markus once more. “You scared my cat,” she said matter of factly, her features completely expressionless. “You really shouldn’t do that.” Erin’s eyes flashed black for a second there as she used her connection with Irayah to instill calm in the kitten. It visibly relaxed with a soft purr, looking over at Markus. Then Erin finally smiled wryly, looking up at him, her momentary anger gone – she didn’t like Irayah being scared like that. It made her uncomfortable as she could feel it through their bond. “Now, if I didn’t know better, Markus, I’d say you were trying to scare me.” She said, her voice filled with dry humor, “it’s not going to work.” Then she put Irayah down and stood, wrapping an arm around the tree she’d been sitting against, and leaned her side against it, watching Markus intently. “As for what I want,” she then added, still not sure how to phrase it but deciding that it didn’t really matter.

How much worse could Markus really get? “You don’t need to ‘irritate me out of my mind’, even if you’re quite able in that department.” She shot him a wry smile at that. “I’d like to get rid of Daniel, and I’m going to need your help for that.” Irayah purred and flexed her little claws before she padded over to Markus, evidently over her moment of fear, and hopped onto his lap, curling up there. Erin rolled her eyes at the thing before looking at Markus’ face again, “I’ve tried everything to shove him away but he keeps coming back.” She wasn’t going to explain to Markus why she wanted Daniel gone, or the fact that the very words were hurting her already. She merely kept it to superficial facts. “I think I’ve worked out how to make him want to stay away from me, and that’s where you come in.” She paused, waiting to gauge his reaction.