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"Light whispers over my tongue to curl over branches and burst into Souls. The Elements sway and crystallise, solidifying into Life. I breathe and they breathe..."

0 · 714 views · located in Earth

a character in “How to spot a Faerie”, as played by Layla


❄ Raena ❄

Order, Unchanging Queen, Seelie Queen, Light Queen, High Queen

Luna Piena


❄ Height: 5'5" or 168cm
❄ Human Appearance: With snow white hair cascading to her hips and iridescent eyes, Raena is hard to miss. Despite being rather petite and slim, Raena has a distinct hourglass figure. Lights glistens from the smooth surface of her silken hair, its locks framing her lovely oval face. She has a small, slim nose, its tip upturned ever so slightly. Her lips are full with a distinct cupid's bow and her mouth, small. She is utterly symmetrical - from the perpetually neat strands of her hair to her elfin face and body - representative of her role as Order.

Perhaps, even more unusual and stunning than her hair, are her eyes. Framed in thick, dark eyelashes, her large eyes are truly one of a kind. Even in her human form, her irises are unnaturally large and their colour, even more ethereal. They are ever changing, as stationary as the oceans of the Earth and the only aspect of the Unchanging Queen that ever fluctuates. Her eyes can fade from an obsidian as endless as the galaxies of which she Created to a silver so bright, her eyes appear to be stars. No one is sure of why her irises vary the way they do, for as they all know - perhaps except for Praxis - the High Queen's emotions has nothing to do with it as she no longer has any. In her human form, however, her eyes do not change colour as rapidly. Rather, it morphs from one to another every few minutes, instead of every millisecond as it did in the Faerie Realms.

If not for the banishment of the myth of Vampires being as pale as snow, one would believe Raena to be a Vampire. Her skin - almost unnaturally, well, certainly unnaturally smooth - is without a single flaw. She is not marked by a single blemish; her skin the same pale shade throughout her entire body no matter the amount of sunlight she is exposed to. Indeed, the Queen of the Fey takes "immeasurable beauty" to an entirely new level.

Her fingers - slim and long - would make any pianist swoon. Her small feet and slim, perfectly curved legs: the envy of all dancers. All jewellery can become the accessories of Goddesses when worn by Raena. Her ample breasts and full hips curve into a small waist; her very existence is elegant. To put it lightly, Raena is perfect.
❄ True Form: If Raena's human form is awe-inspiring, her Faerie form is capable of bringing the world to its knees. Her flowing hair, along with every atom of her being, glows an ethereal silver; a silver so pure and blinding, none except for the Fey and the most powerful of beings can see her in her true form. Even then, they are often rendered immobile, their every care for dignity: gone. In a world full of such beauty as the Faerie Realms, appearances do not tend to matter, but laying eyes on the Monarchs is as staring directly into a million Suns when you are mere inches away. To say Raena's true form is "beautiful" and "perfect" is like saying the Sun shines a little. There are few who dare look into the eyes of Raena - Praxis being one of them - for fear of losing control. If one does not lose their minds seeing Raena, one feels an unbearable, irresistible urge to please her and make her happy. Creatures are willing to suffer from horrors worse than death by toothpick to stand in the High Queen's light. Whilst the Dark King makes many feel as if they are nothing but worthless beings that must be by him to be whole, those in the presence of the Light Queen feel more whole than can ever be possible. They feel complete and they will do anything to feel that way forever.

Her irises, now fulling covering all of the whites of her large eyes, change at every moment, flowing from forest green to lilac to ruby in mere milliseconds. Her appearance, where once achingly beautiful, is now achingly unbearable. Her skin glows, as well as her hair, so pale, it is as if she is light itself. She wears a crown of white gold, its entire existence made of a single, massive diamond or rather, something much more precious.

Her wings are larger than most Feys', being more the size of Angel wings than Fey wings. It glows silver, its surface seeming to have been made of water and diamonds. Although its is transparent, the intensity of its light is so bright, it is very much impossible for most to see through it. A web of transparent, wire-thin bones hold her intricate wings together but do not be fooled by its string-like appearance, it is harder than the hardest metal or bone on Earth.
❄ Gender: Female
❄ Sexuality: Pansexual
❄ Age: Older than time
❄ Species: Creator; one could say she was Fey and/or God
❄ Court: Seelie
❄ Role: Light Queen
❄ Powers: To list Raena's powers would be like listing the number of galaxies in the world: no one quite knows for certain. As the Creator, she is powerful beyond belief. Or rather, was. Yet, there appear to be limits to her powers and laws even she must obey. That begs the question of who created the King and Queen, but that is for another story.

Apart from Raena's ability to command Spring and Autumn - powers her Fey adopted from her - Raena's primary power and the one she uses most often is that of Knowing. When she was a part of the Faerie Realms, she was rarely ever seen away from her throne, where she would attach herself to the veins of the world and her Fey. They were vines, of sorts, that wrapped around her ankles and allowed for her to see possible futures. On Earth, her powers of Knowing - Knowing, Fate, Sight, the name matters not - manifests much less beautifully. When she touches another, she is able to reach into their futures and follow their strands of Fate to see their futures. She does not - or rather, did not - need to do this as she can See from afar. She uses this power to balance the world, to maintain order amongst chaos and ensure a balance between the two. Sometimes - and often - this means requiring the deaths of individuals or groups. Such tasks, she ordinarily leaves to her second-in-command. There are certain times when some things must be Seen; she has no control over these visions and they can appear without ample warning.

Her Knowing is not merely limited to futures, however, and she can Know much, if not all, about a person. She cannot, however, see lives that are entwined with her own.

As with the King, she is able to manipulate Souls. She is able to not only give Souls and create creatures from it, but take Souls as well. As the Faerie Realms and its Fey were the source of her power, life force and her very own Soul - as she used most of what was her own to create the Fey - she is now in need of Souls to survive. The Fey cannot exist without her and it is even possible that the world cannot exist without one the Monarchs. Even the death of one will throw the entire world out of balance, leaving it to an inevitable end. As such, she must - at all costs - survive. Raena is able to take the Souls of others, as is the King. Souls not only keep her alive but are a source of her power. The smaller her essence - or Soul - the weaker she is, and the colder.

As with her power of Creation, she can also Unmake her creatures, her worlds. Although, without the aid of the Dark King, she is only able to Unmake half of things and only half of the Fey. She can Unmake what was Created by her but the Dark King's beings are his own. Although, as most of their Creations are joined, this power is ultimately useless without the King. Not only can she Create living creatures, however, she can also create objects. Half of the world - including the Faerie Realms - was made through her thoughts. Her thoughts, therefor, are reality. It is much more difficult to manipulate the static, human-created infrastructures of the Earth, however.

A less commonly used power of hers is that of Sound. She is able to use sound to affect the world and its inhabitants in varying degrees. If her truly unsurpassed beauty and incredible power is not enough to sway anyone to do her bidding, she is able to use her voice to command very much anyone. Unlike the more powerful Spring Fey, it is Raena's singing that can manipulate emotions and cast a trance over beings of all sorts. Through music, she can amplify powers, summon visions and call upon her Fey or, sometimes, even change the Season. Her powers of Sound are quite limitless.
❄ Abilities: Raena is not one to exert physical force, having never needed to do so. Why would she use her body when she merely needs to think or utter the words for her desires to manifest? All in all, Raena is not a master of martial arts and physically, she is quite weak. She is neither a fast runner or a skilled swordsman. In fact, she is not even quite sure if she can swim, she's never tried. Such activities and uses of energy are below her.

She does, however, have the most enchanting voice of all that exists. Hers is the voice of pure, undisturbed light, of creatures mightier than Angels and immensely more beautiful. When she speaks, it is as if leaves still in their rustling to listen to her. When she sings - the world, very literally, listens. Hers is the song of Creation.

Along with her otherworldly voice, there is also no instrument she is incapable of playing. She is musically gifted and well, she's had countless millenniums to hone her skills. Once, she would have played and sung for the King, now she sings and plays for no one. She is also a composer and lyricist, as well as a poet; she has a way with words. She is also a lover of dance, loving to do so herself. Despite her skills as a performer, it has been eons since she's entertained anyone or smiled, for that matter.

She also paints and draws; she does everything related to the arts, really.

This might not be much of a skill but she has an uncanny ability to remind symmetrical and impeccably groomed at all times. She can stand by a hurricane and when the wind stills, her hair will return to its perfectly symmetrical state. Perhaps her silver-white hair is mussed sometimes, but if it ever is or was, no one has seen it. Maybe except for the Dark King.
❄ Preferred Weapons: Her Magic is her preferred weapon but if she simply must fight physically, she is capable of wielding... Nothing. She'd be doomed without her Magic.
❄ Personality: Once, a long, long time ago, the Light Queen smiled. She was kind, gentle, loving, happy, motherly: the epitome of goodness. All the Fey adored her, even the grim Autumn Fey and the malicious Winter Fey. She was loved by all and she loved all in return. She was always seen smiling, with a bounce in her steps and an untainted light in her eyes. Importantly, she loved the Dark King dearly, with all of what she was. When the Dark King wished for more power, however, and the Fey were split into two, it was as if Raena was torn, as well.

Gone was the cheerful Light Queen and in her place, was the unrelenting coldness of Order. Raena grew bitter until eventually, she grew to be nothing at all. At least, in terms of emotions. She no longer expressed any of what she felt, if she even felt at all. Instead, she turned to logic and reason, the ever trustworthy love of Order. She was a good and fair Queen, but she no longer empathised with the Fey. Where once she smiled, Raena now showed nothing at all. Sometimes, all she ever did was stare into things no one but her could see for years at a time.

Yet, despite her cold demeanour and seeming lack of care, she only wished and still wishes for what is best for her Fey. She does things for the greater good, for the maintenance of Order against Chaos and the balance of the two. She does what she must, not allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement. She cares more than she appears to, and values life above all else. If possible, she would not take any but alas, sacrifices must be made to maintain the fine balance of existence and oblivion. Indeed, despite her lack of resemblance to the joyful and loved Light Queen, Order does an astounding job of maintaining Order. Or rather, she did. Until the Dark King tore open the veil, causing the Fey to be sucked through without warning or choice.

The High Queen is sarcastic and enjoys making people feel uncomfortable; it's her favourite past time. She often uses creative insults, although she rarely ever means harm by it, it is simply who she is now. Sometimes, one can even see a slither of the old Raena; fleeting, but there beneath the cold.
Image❄ Quirks: Raena's quirk is that she has no quirk. She is utterly unreadable, nearly never using any sort of gesture. She has no distinct habits, other than her utter stillness and lack of one. One can never tell what she is thinking based on what she does, for what she does is sometimes too reasonable to be understood.
❄ Likes: Besides the arts - including dance and music - there is little Raena likes. She supposes she's fond of her Fey but they can be rather tedious and annoying, but what needs to be done, must be done. To say she 'likes' Order would be rather inadequate. She is Order and as such, is uncomfortable with anything other than what she knows and expects. She does like Praxis more than she does anyone else but no, she cares for her Fey and the wellbeing of the overall world. She likes the natural environment for obvious reasons and has a fondness for flora and fauna.
❄ Dislikes: Her list of dislikes could go on and on for an eternity. She most strongly despises the Dark King, or, well, she wishes she did. Her lack of hate for him is... She also dislikes Chaos and the lack of Order and cannot understand why anyone would enjoy a world unbalanced. She despises sudden and/or loud noises, as well as crowds. She would rather be alone than be amongst other living beings. Raena also dislikes badly played music and music with no meaning. She hates being disrupted when in focus and is not fond of bloodshed or the reckless and needless abandonment of life.
❄ Biography: Long ago, a beautiful existence - the embodiment of Light - fell in love with Darkness, They could not be as one and the Gods warned them of the tragedy that would befall them should they pursue their passions. Light could not be with Darkness without chasing Him away and Darkness could not touch Light without drenching Her in abyss. They listened not, however, and in the Shadows - where they almost touched, barely touched, somewhat did - they loved.

They defied the Gods and defied their nature, choosing one another above all else. Until they, once again, searched for more. Light and Darkness could not truly be as one and so they Created beings of their own, creatures made of their own essences, and named them the Fey. They were the creatures who were too wicked for Heaven and too good for Hell, as were their Creators. And so, they became known as the Light Queen and the Dark King and for what seemed to be too short a time, they could be together. For the first time in all of existence, Light and Darkness could be as one.

Yet, the Dark King craved for more, whilst his lover did not. The Light Queen held on, begged and pleaded for the Dark King to stay, to be happy with the haven they'd created for themselves but the Dark King did not listen and the Unchanging Queen could not change. Not in that way. Not then. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts were formed, one closer to Hell and the other to Heaven, but neither close enough to neither. The Queen - not wishing for her love to be alone - gave him a part of her soul and a part of all she was. The Dark King did the same and so the Light Queen treasured the Summer of her King's and the King, her Autumn.

However, the Light Queen could not find happiness in an existence so far removed from her King, her love, her Darkness. Light grew dim, until she was barely Light at all. She wept endlessly in what seemed to be a never-ending existence of Tears and still, there were not enough oceans to fill her misery. There was a single Fey, however, the first Fey to ever have been created by Darkness and Light: Praxis Lethe.

He offered his Queen an escape from the torment; he offered her emptiness. Light gladly accepted, allowing for the Spring Fey to drain all of her emotions, all of her pain, until she was but a shell, but nonetheless, a shell without pain. Praxis became the Queen's second-in-command, taking all of her emotions so she could be Order and Order she became. Under her cold rule, the Faerie Realms prospered. Under their emotionless Queen, they lived in balance.

But it was not to last.

The Dark King - in his need for Chaos and more - condemned the Fey to an existence on Earth and the Monarchs, to a life of theft. Light disappeared in the shift from the Faerie Realms to Earth and now the world is in threat of toppling from its fragile balance.

Order is gone and now Chaos rules.
❄ Other: TBA

So begins...

Raena's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood
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#, as written by Layla
“It’s snowing.”

“No, really,” Kiser said drily. “Riveting observation.” Of course it was snowing; it was always snowing. Ever since the foreign invasion over six months ago, winter had seeped into every inch of the world, encompassing first New York, then everywhere else. Leaving not even the equator untouched. Oh dreadful, dreadful winter. No one had seen a green leaf anywhere outside of a greenhouse or a museum in ages.

The worst part was that they’d been invaded by Faeries.

“Hey, son, guess what daddy was when he was young and brave. Daddy was a Faerie Hunter!” Kiser thought with a groan, dropping his head onto the dashboard of his car. Why couldn’t they have named them ‘Unidentified Flying Asses,’ instead? UFA. Yes, UFA would’ve worked.

“Dude, I mean, it’s snowing,” Kiser’s annoying assignment of the month – Chris – repeated once again.

“Damn it, Chris. I know it’s-“ Kiser’s words evaporated into the frigid air as he wound down the window of his car. It was snowing. Fat tennis balls of white rained from the skies, coating the world in an even thicker than usual layer of ice. This was why Kiser had transferred from the U.S. Military to aid IPAF in their fight against the Fey. The world’s resources were on a steady decline and at this rate, animals – including humans - would meet inevitable extinction, and when they did, as would Vampires and Weres. If he had to survive on leeks and brussels sprouts for another month…

Kiser swore, shoving the door open and gripping his IPAF-approved gun from his coat pocket. He lifted the weapon and gazed through the special scope at a man who appeared, suspiciously, to be manipulating snow across the busy street. Come on, come on. Look up, he thought.


Glowing eyes lifted before the Faerie turned quickly - too slow - a movement too precise and otherworldly for a Vamp or Were and too quick for a human. It ducked into a small street behind it, disappearing into the dimness of winter noon.

“Type 4 at 3 o’clock,” Kiser said hastily, already running in the direction of the Faerie. His two legs ate the distance, but not fast enough. The IPAF senior shrugged off his coat as his legs continued to pump.

“Kai! What the hell are you doing, man?” the rookie behind him asked between heavy breaths.

“Exactly what I look like I’m doing!” he shouted, shouldering people aside as the narrow street opened into a crowded city square.

“Stripping?” Chris asked.

A roar tore through the air as Kiser’s muscles rippled and warped beneath his skin – or fur. People squealed whilst some - obviously Weres - hooted at the passing lion. Kiser dimly noted Chris’ creative use of vulgarity behind him as his consciousness shifted into that of his animal form. The world grew sharper and words became meaningless noise, like the language of buzzing flies. Nobody cared about the language of buzzing flies.

The world blurred into a continuous flow of colour and Kiser’s mind and eyes narrowed into a single, blue-haired figure. The Fey had abandoned its glamour in its attempt to escape and could now be seen in all its horrific beauty. The Werelion’s jaws widened as it clamped around the small blue figure, eliciting a sharp scream from the Fey.

“You are hereby arrested for violating Sections I, IV, II-“ Chris began before silencing himself as the lion growled in warning between his clamped teeth and the - now bleeding purple - figure. “You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted and used against you,” Chris said. He’d always wanted to say that. The new addition to IPAF attached an iron band around the Fey’s ankle. Any move to escape or harm and the iron cuff would inject a concentration of iron into the Fey’s system, resulting in immediate termination.

Satisfied, the lion’s bones rippled beneath its thick gold fur as it morphed into a muscular, peeved, and very much naked Kiser. “What was that last sentence for?” he asked without wanting or expecting an answer, dropping the limp Fey. Chris smiled sheepishly, before stroking his hairless chin.

“Nice,” he said, referring to Kiser’s exposed body.

“Thanks,” Kiser said with a grin; Werelions were very proud of their bodies. “Although, pants might be nice”

Not far from the IPAF hunters, ice cracked. It began gently, a small crinkle of sound accompanied by a paper-thin line across the surface of frozen water. Then, the lines rippled, the cracks widened and the ominous sound that followed elicited gasps and squeals of fright.

“Do you hear something?” an ice-skater whispered, sliding to a stop. The Upper New York Bay had been frozen thick for months and being as cold as it was now, no one expected that it would, well, not stay whole.

“What?” her friend asked.

Ice cracked.

Screams ripped through the air as blades ripped through ice; bodies bumped into one another and slid across the frozen surface as the thick lines that marred the smooth ice chased them relentlessly.

Beneath the surface, the quiet waters stirred, as if preparing for the awakening of their creator. Lines of consciousness glowed silver, the thin strings reaching for one another, searching, as they weaved into a web of millenniums. No, more than that. A white purer that the purest of colours – or the lack thereof – floated in the chilling liquid, their long strands of hair dancing like ink in water. The figure stirred, its translucent robes of ebony curling around its smooth ivory skin. There was a stretch of absolute stillness, where the Earthlings above – now standing on solid Earth as they watched the unmoving fractures along the ice – stood still. The sounds around them quieted, the birds silencing in their songs as they, too, watched the ice, or rather, what lay beneath it.

“Nothing’s happening,” a woman whispered to her husband.

The world shattered.

An ominous crack rumbled through the still air; ice tore apart, pulling from one another like tectonic plates on fast forward. The Statue of Liberty watched from a distance, her unseeing eyes watching the panic below, waiting for what was to come. Fingers worth the envy of any pianist grasped at empty air as they burst through the now visible waters. The crowd stared, entranced, as an arm emerged, then - with a gasp more beautiful than the loveliest of birdsongs - a young woman. Her ghostly hair of unmarred white floated in a choreographed dance, every strand serving a purpose in emphasising the woman's otherworldliness. Wide, blue eyes like broken glass - no, startling emerald? - stared, frightened, from a face that seemed as fragile and as carefully crafted as a collector's porcelain doll. Her full lips - with a deep cupid's bow - parted in desperate attempts to breathe, its colour pale with cold.


Kiser stared, as did everyone else, his hands frozen at his hips where he'd been buckling his belt whilst running towards the commotion. The angel - yes, that was what she was - was flawless even in her struggle, as if God Himself controlled her every elegantly flailing movement.

"Think she's a Fey?"

Kiser ripped his eyes away from the struggling figure to glare at Chris, annoyed that he'd interrupted his moment with the angel and annoyed with himself for not waking sooner. The Werelion parted his lips to deny such accusations towards the beauty but pressed his lips into a firm line before the word could leave his mind. No, she was too beautiful. More so than the Fey, even. Her perfection was immeasurable and most Earthlings didn't emerge from frozen water. But he didn't want to believe it. Didn't want this Goddess-like creature to be such an abominable creation. But the river had been frozen for months and no one human, Were or Vampire, could've survived so long beneath its surface.

"Let it drown," he rasped, turning away from the Sun, the Moon, the world that seemed to be the girl. Beauty was evil.

"S... Stop," a voice croaked. "Not. Not Fey."

Kiser furrowed his thick brows, looking down at the still bleeding, sprawled blue Fey at his feet. He'd forgotten he was there. The Winter Fey struggled to look at him, his lips parting and closing in a speech that could not be heard. "What?" Kiser asked in a gruff tone, scratching his rough jaw.

"Not Fey. You... You can test her," the Fey managed to say. The Winter Faerie looked at his Queen, a horrible suffocation beginning in his lungs as he realised how utterly true his statement was. She was not Fey; at least, not in the way the Fey should be. There was none of Her true glory beneath Her skin, none of Her breath-stealing blaze that made one wish to grovel at Her feet. He was sure that if they photographed Her eyes - as they so often did with the Fey - they would see only what was normal of Earthlings. Nothing. A tear trickled sideways from his fallen head as the Winter Fey mourned what was surely the death of his once beloved monarch.

The Light Queen was mortal.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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Azriel's feet dangled over the corner of the tall building he had decided to sit on that night. It was one of his favorite buildings to watch the city from. It gave him a perfect view of the lights and the bay where many people enjoyed skating with the now constant winter. He enjoyed the idea of people finding happiness in the upset of the natural motion of the world. Humans where very adaptable creatures. He reaches into a little bag he had in his lap and popped a few balls of popcorn into his mouth. The treat did nothing nutritionally for him, but he found the flavor quiet nice. Moments later he would spit the mashed goo down onto the park ground below him. The birds loved his practice, the human's didn't. Occasionally he would hear the faint sound of someone cussing thirty stories below him and chuckle at their misfortune. As adaptable as the humans where, they tended to complain a lot in the process. Despite all the cursing and anger, that human would always keep an eye up from then on when they walked in this park.

Azriel enjoyed this particular building for many reasons, but most of all was its lack of habitation at this hour. Azriel had the ability to feel people's blood when they got within a certain range of him. Being this high up on an empty building meant he could actually see more people than he could feel right now. That in some small way was a gift. It let him relax ever so slightly, and that in itself was a miracle. Being the type to constantly be on guard meant he rarely got moments of peace. Times like now, when the three janitors that wandered the building and the occasional bird where the only things that showed up on his senses. He smiled lightly as he pulled out a small thermos and began drinking the contents. The humans, being as adaptable as they where, found that selling blood was suddenly very lucrative with vampires out and about. While this meant he could pay for blood, it didn't mean he wouldn't occasionally hunt for himself. Unfortunately for the humans the hunger was much more than just a need for blood. Certain instincts couldn't be ignored forever. For now however his store bought blood would do him just fine.

His time of zen was broken however as the ice below began to crack. He reached over and grabbed a small pair of binoculars to get a closer look at the cause of all this commotion. A girl was breaking through the ice, well that is interesting. It wasn't very often you see a girl as thin and frail as this one looked breaking through what had to be multiple feet of ice by now. His first assumption was that she had to be some sort of super natural, but she looked rather human to him. He would need to get closer to be sure however. He leans back slightly to look at the clear night sky with only the occasional cloud drifting by to drop a little snow on them. With a heavy sigh which was completely unnecessary for his survival and only created a small puff of smoke-like breath from the heat of the warmed blood he just drank. He didn't want to move, having been enjoying the serenity of the night all too much. Then the screams began to reach his ear and he sighed. His curiosity wouldn't allow him to let this go uninvestigated.

With a purposely slow reluctant motion he stands up on the edge of the building. The remaining blood from the thermos jumps from its container to his hand in a self propelled flow. As it gets to his hand it forms a ball the size of a softball in the palm of his hand. Crouching down, he let his reflexes control the blood inside his legs to increase their output before he launches himself across the three lane (each side) street below him. The building across the street was only 25 stories so he had a little extra room. Landing in a roll, he quickly pops back up and takes of in a sprint across the roof top toward the bay. The ball of blood seems to flatten and form over his right hand and arm as if holding on for dear life. Azriel's unnatural speed and agility would bring him to the scene shortly. The only thing slowing him down being his apprehension at being around people so soon after his time of rest. That would have to wait however.

His long jacket fluttered behind him as he fell another ten stories to a building even closer to his destination, the drop seemed effortless to the man as he lands in another combat roll. It was his preferred method when landing from a jump and planning on continuing motion simply because it reduced the amount of momentum you lost when you landed and allowed him to redirect himself in any of one hundred and eighty degrees in front of him as he came out of it. With one last jump he finds himself on a building overlooking the bay, he is now only five stories up but can see everything in the bay, as well as the Were and its partner standing over a wounded fey. How does he know it is a Were and a Fey? He can feel it, their blood is different than that of a human, the Were's feel like they are constantly trying to escape where as Fey's pulsate in an odd manner, as if they are containing something they shouldn't. The girl was still too far away for him to sense her, but he had a feeling that would soon change with patience. His guess was these two where IPAF and they where sure to investigate... The question now was where they going to let her drown. If that was the case he would have to intervene and save this girl. Don't get him wrong, watching people suffer could be entertaining. This girl however had done nothing to warrant such treatment. As such she was to be considered an innocent when it came to war, and war was what these IPAF where waging. However if they decided she was Fey, she would be left to die. Azriel couldn't let that happen to a girl that may just be an innocent in the wrong place.

The blood on his hand and arm shifted into an orb once again and began orbiting his wrist at first then his body. He crouched down on the edge of the building he was on to watch and see just how the situation would play out. The orb would orbit his body and occasionally touch him as if to push him lightly in one direction or another. It was a game he played whenever he was waiting, testing his balance and making himself ever better. One of the many training habits he had formed over his many years. His skills were never good enough for his standards, but his standard was perfection. As such he kept his presence unknown for now. Using his years of practice as an assassin to good use.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Dunkelzahn Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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*Human. Scope confirms it* Zahn's sultry voice chirped inside Kiser and Chris' earpieces, mainly to let them know she was watching from... somewhere. *Finish buckling your belt: if you flash me again I'm going to shoot you... with the big rifle: the one that turns Fae inside-out.*

Zahn adjusted her scope for windage again, thankful for the big puffy flakes of snow. By watching the swirling eddies she could calculate the exact path wind would blow the bullet, and visibility wasn't a problem with the nifty thermal overlay the IPAF had thought to install. She had most of the other toys disabled. The shot prediction matrix was usually wrong, and mainly just got in her way, and the only time she turned on the facial recognition was to confirm a target. Too many blips... too many distractions... windage, GPS range finding, electronically guided bullets. All just crutches for wet behind the ears marksmen who couldn't place a bullet where they wanted it to go.

"Jeesus, dead body..." chimed "Archer," her spotter. "Wait, it's moving. Kiser's six o'clock."

"I don't see anything," Zahn replied with a note of skepticism. "The boys are probably dropping LSD in your coffee again."

"No, seriously!! He just jumped off of a thirty story building!"

"Whatever, there's nothing on thermal," she snipped as she started to re-adjust to get Kiser back in her scope.

"Turn off the thermal and look with your eyes!," Archer insisted, literally pointing out the window now. Zahn sighed, lifting her head from the scope to spear him with her amber-eyed glare and pursed her full lips into a thin line.

"If I turn off the thermal, and there's nothing there I'm gonna shank a bitch," she warned reaching up to deactivate the thermal overlay. She rested her cheek against the butt of her rifle and peered through her scope, zeroing in on the rooftop in question. "Huh, son of a bitch," she grunted, spotting a black clad man on the edge of the rooftop.


"Oh, whatever vampires were a myth just a few years ago, I'm still adjusting," she said, with a small amount of venom.

"... Isn't your mom a shapeshifter?" Zahn paused, thinking about the subject for a long time. She'd never considered herself anything more than human since she couldn't change shapes. Watching Kiser change to his lion shape had sent a spike of jealousy straight into her gut, which was also one of the reasons she kind of hoped the man dropped his pants again so she could deliver on her threat.

"Touche..." she noted in that tone of voice that suggested she wouldn't forget this conversation and pressed to transmit on the sub-vocal mic around her throat. "Interested 'fanger' to your six o'clock... rooftop, five story building... the one with the deli on the first floor... amazing roast beef. He's... got something spinning around him, could be a weapon but I can't confirm from here, thermal is useless," she explained and released the transmitter.

"You think anyone but a Fae could survive under all that ice?" Archer asked.

"The scope doesn't lie," she replied with a note of sarcasm. "Archer thinks you should pull her out of the ice, Kai," she said, pressing a finger to her sub-vocal.

"I said no such thing," he snipped in a wounded tone. Zahn giggled.

"Well when you can place a bullet, you can carry the comm... besides... who doesn't want to watch Kai jump into a bay full of freezing water and ice? That'll teach him to leave his cock flapping in the wind."

"Wow... you are vindictive, I thought it was just gossip," he laughed.

"That's not true... I'm the nicest sniper in this squad."

"The only sniper," he corrected with a roll of his eyes. Zahn just grinned.

"Just think... from this distance, nobody down there would even hear the gunshot that killed him. He'd just wake up at the pearly gates staring at St. Peter wondering what the fuck just happened," she said wistfully, centering the reticle on Kiser, then adjusting for wind, spin-drift, and the Coriolis effect. "Bang," she whispered.

She had an aim-point for every distance in her line of sight out to about 3000 meters. This was one of her normal haunts for the bay area: an abandoned floor of an office building about three quarters of a mile from where Kiser was standing. Contrary to popular belief, it's asinine to shoot from a rooftop where everybody and their dog can see you, and equally foolish to hang your rifle out the window. No, she'd rolled out her comfortable gel mat and was laying on top of a conference table several feet inside the darkened room, watching the bay through the scope of her Windrunner M96. The window was open just enough for her to see through and keep most of the chill out. It was still freezing inside, but compared to the miserable winters she'd spent in Afghanistan, this was still quite pleasant.

"Do you ever wonder what they feel... you know if people get that sensation they're being watched?" Archer asked, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes.

"Nope," Zahn answered. "I'm always the watcher..."


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Iokul Frosti Character Portrait: Capricorn Character Portrait: Yuki
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It was amazing how these humans worked, always running around like ants, never knowing whose thumb they were under. Oh, sure, they thought they knew. The government? Religion? No, it was their own minds that contained them, pressing them into the servitude of others. They had sprung up like weeds in a flower patch, and the Fae was the weed killer. Iokul Frosti, also known as Jack Frost, stood atop the Empire State Building, disgusted by the ants that milled about themselves. An odd looking paintbrush was within his right hand, while in his left heavily gloved hand, was the rod at the tip of the building. The sky was grey, after it expelled the last of the snow within their bellies, but, with a single swipe of his brush, they became black, and rumbled noisily. They knew what he was, and did not care, because he was using them as an ant queen is used by her workers and drones, pushing more and more snow out of its belly. He loved it here, and did not wish to return home.

There weren't any of his children when they arrived, or so he thought. Since their appearance onto this plane, more and more of the Fae began to pop up all over the world. This had surprised him, but, after asserting his dominance over those that appeared, they were left to their own devices. Many had voiced their concerns about what he was doing in the human city of New York. 'Had' being the key word, as many of their bodies were decorating his estate up in a place called Albany. They were such lovely statues of ice, or they would have been, if their heads were still intact. A shame, really, he did have need of allies, but if they were not ready for him, then why would any try to make him leave?

"A pity," his grumble was only echoed by the clouds above. These "Fae" were not even that. They had become saturated by the mortals they had been charged to govern over, allowing them to flourish without guidance of any kind. They had been corrupted by these ants, cowed and corralled with the threat of iron upon their very existence. This would make any ruler boil with rage, and he was not immune to such. His glamour shattered, revealing a terrible being, and called upon the North Wind, bringing a deep ice onto the land below. It howled his rage, tore open the clouds, causing the snow within to become a harsh and bitter blizzard. The ants below scattered into their stone and iron buildings, he let go of the rod.

His body plummeted from the building, just as a peel of lightening struck the rod, causing the stone about it, cracking it asunder. During his fall, the wind caressed his cheeks and lips, just like a lover would. His eyes were closed during the fall, but when he opened them, he could just see a wind sprite, smiling before it planted a kiss upon his lips. The feeling was exhilarating, and would have made his Queen jealous. He mentally shook himself of such thoughts, and focused on the sprite and their surroundings. The world had gotten blacker, fluffier, and a shining smile beamed from his self. Giggles soon erupted around him, as he settled himself down among the cloud-like material. "Ladies," began Jack, "how may I honour the occasion?"

"You asked us to search the world for your Queen," a silky whisper entered his left ear, and when he turned, thin wisps of air escaped his peripheral vision. "We have not found her," the tone became saddened, and small droplets of water pattered his collar, "we are sorry, my lord Jack." It wouldn't until be later, that he realized the droplets of water upon his collar were his own, but at the time, his thoughts were only of greater sadness.

"Continue searching." His whisper was barely audible, but they all heard it. "I must plan a raid." The form of Iokul Frosti vanished, then, and continued to plummet to the ground. As he continued to plummet, however, a portal opened up on the ground below. Once entering it, his surroundings became of those of one who had exquisite tastes in furnishings. Golds, purples, reds, blues, and greens covered the room before him, and at his feet, a throne made up of iron wood. Iron wood, a tree only found in the forests of Summer, but as hard as the humans' own iron, without the side effects, though. Two cards appeared within his left gloved hand, both, a pair of ravens. "Summon them. We have work to do."


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp
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Justin smirked as he easily made his way across the rooftops. The moonlight seemed to bounce off his cape and onto the snow below, giving him an ominous glare. His boots padded lightly across the fresh snow, only leaving a small footprint where other people would have fallen waist deep.

His target tonight was the Pink Puma, a priceless gem that was to be delivered to the Smithsonian the next morning. They said it's beauty was only rivaled by the faeries who had come to Earth five months ago. Seeing how Justin's last encounter with a faerie had been a wild night of no-strings-attached sex, this gem must be pretty damn beautiful.

He did feel a little bad about the job though, Mr. Palmer made the best strudels in the city, but with the money he'd get for the gem, he would buy all of the old man's merchandise to make up for it.

Justin leaped across the frozen rooftops with surprising ease, like a bird flitting from branch to branch. Although, despite his grace, he surely would have slipped and fallen to his death if not for the sticky solution that coated the soles of his boots. It was a mixture of peanut butter, liquid chewing gum and any other sticky substances that were around at the time. Justin gave a small chuckle at his ingenuity and continued on his merry way.

A lone figure hopping across the rooftops caught his attention. The thief's cheeks puffed up with anger. Who was this poser? Obviously someone trying to steal his spotlight. 'Look at the way he hops across the roofs, no elegance at all. I could jump that far with both legs broken.'

After a few hops from his desired path, Justin had a clear view of the wannabe. The black clothes, chains and swirling ball of red said it all. The last time they had met, the vampire and Justin hadn't been on the best terms. Justin had decided to go after a beautiful jewel called the Blood Opal. Of course, it was in the care of this very vamp for safe keeping. Without going into detail, the handsome thief barely escaped with his good looks, life and, most importantly, the gem.

He stuck his tongue out playfully behind the vamp's back threw a snowball and hopped back to his original path. The cold was beginning to nip into his bare arms. He rubbed them briefly to get the blood flowing again. He hated being cold but he hated not looking bad-ass even more. 'I have got to get Agatha to attach some sleeves onto my tunic for me. It's getting way too cold out to show off to the cuties.'

As the edge of the roof came into view, Justin burst into a full blown sprint and launched over the alley below, his fingers just barely catching the lip of his destination. The blonde thief smiled as he flipped himself onto the snow covered roof, the snow crunching under his sudden pressure. The Palmer bakery stood below him, it's sign worn with time. It really was a prime location to have such a store. It was right beside a coffee house and a park that was beautiful even when blanketed by a white sheet of cold. It was often populated by skaters. Justin liked to teach the kids how to skate, it gave him joy to help those smaller then himself.

Nevertheless, now was time for action.

Wrapping the cloak around him, Justin descended the side of the building, the sticky shoes keeping him form falling to his death. With a single motion, his lithe legs balanced precariously on the tiny windowsill. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled his lockpicks from his belt and quickly opened the window. The room was completely dark save for the light from the hallway seeping under the door. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he heard commotion outside. 'Shit, I must have been spotted! Gotta make this quick!'

Within one minute, the Pink Puma rest in the blonde thief's hand, it's bright surface seemed to radiate like a small sun, even in this dim lighting. He smirked and pocketed the jewel. 'Too easy. Now, to make my escape!'

A minute later, Justin stood on the rooftop he had just climbed down. His light blue globes drifted across the park. It was so peaceful. Frozen tree's, sparkling snow, screaming people.....wait screaming people? A light curse escaped his lips when he beheld the woman who had fallen through the ice, her face hidden behind illustrious blonde hair. “Someone's in trouble!” Without a moment's hesitation, Justin threw himself off the building, plopping down in a huge snowdrift, and raced towards the damsel in distress.

“Why is no one helping!” He yelled at the bystanders. He couldn't believe the selfishness of people! He wrapped his hand around the woman's arm and, as gently as he could, pulled her from the water's grasp. Justin gasped at how cold she was, he was amazed she wasn't dead. The red silk of his cloak was pulled around her while he held her close, hoping to give his body heat to her. “What are you waiting for? Somebody call 911!”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Iokul Frosti Character Portrait: Dunkelzahn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki
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The snow was absolute.
And with it brought silence. Sweet silence that couldn't penetrate the blanket of snow about her body.

The figure couldn't be seen from any angle but straight above, an aerial view of an empty park. She lie among the snow in nothing but a thin silk gown that was weighed down and settled by snow. One could barely see her bare toes in the frost, skin such a color that it blended her visible flesh into her surroundings. The only thing that marked her form was a tidal wave of dark hair, spilling out over the snow. It was jet black, like ink on fresh paper. Snowflakes had settled into the locks, and upon her small blue lips, which barely ghosted out small streams of fog that one might mistakenly assume was her breath. Her so called breaths did nothing more then crackle in the air, colder then the molecules it made to join. Her eyes, the color of glass reflecting ice, didn't blink, instead opting to follow the dance her thin fingers made as she caught snow drifting in the air.
It was impossible; though not to someone like her. Ice streamed off her fingers to keep the snow intact, and slowly, patiently, the small bundle of snow was shaped into a tiny bird, wings outstretched.
Her blue lips stretched into a smile, stroking tenderly over the wings of her creation. The bird was amazingly detailed, every feather outlined, the eyes staring at the woman as though it had a soul.
There was a small crack, and the wings were thrown aside as the pale fingers broke them off.
"♫Hush little birdy don't make a squeak, I don't want to hear a sound from that beak, and if little birdy you want to sing, mommys going to break more then just your wings,♫"

She had decided upon a British accent today. Her pronunciation was especially strict on her 't's' and 'k's'. Her sing-song voice left ice crackling in the air, and as though recognizing the malice of her words, a few nearby live birds, searching for food, hopped a bit away.

"♫And after mommy breaks your legs, if birdy still talks I'll crack your eggs. And birdy better try to keep it's words in check, or mommy's going to have to wring your little neck.♫"

There was another snap and either end of the ice bird, head and body, were discarded to the sides. The figure sat slowly up and every bird in the near proximity took off in a flurried panic.

Yuki sighed and looked after the birds with longing. "I wish I could fly,"
Her giggles rang out in the air as her own wings spread far behind her. Of course, a glamour had been cast, so any wandering humans wouldn't see a thing. She spun in a circle, shaking the loose snow off of herself, tilting her head the gloriously enraged sky.
A new development in the weather for today. A blizzard. How nice. The past few days had been steady, fluffy snow, in many cities including this one. A blizzard was a refreshing change. The wind tore at her clothing, whipping her dress behind her and screaming into her ears as she considered how to occupy herself for the day.

She could continue searching for her beloved King, whom she hadn't heard of outside of signs in the weather. Or, she could even search for the wretched Queen woman.
Like usual though, Yuki would probably end up toying with the pathetic humans.
Oh, what fun they were, with their fleshy skin so vulnerable to cold. Easily torn emotions, so fun to manipulate. Their inability to fly, so... unfortunate when left in a tundra.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a crack. Louder then her ice birds wings or neck, but a sound she recognized, carried through the violent wind.
Oh yes, Yuki was certain. That was ice cracking. A very large amount of ice.
She took to the sky in glee, skillfully navigating the harsh blizzard. She knew where to go; The Bay. The only area that would match the break she'd heard. Ice spoke to her, and she trusted it.
There was already a bit of commotion. The beautiful frosting over of the water was laden with spiderwebs of cracks, originating from a point the most humans were gathered around. Farther down, there were a few small holes in the ice. One had a few human girls in distress around it,peering into the hole and yelling for assistance.
Yuki smiled in amusement. She was invisible to human eyes while flying, thanks to glamour, and when she landed near the girls, she was equally invisible. The patch of water in the ice was already looking frigid. No doubt by tomorrow the Bay would look like new. Well, new in terms to when it was frozen, that is.
Yuki simply decided to help the process, cold seeping from her bare feet towards the hole. It began rapidly sealing, and Yuki walked away with their shrieks of protest at her back.
Had there really been no other incidents, other then the one? No other silly humans freezing? Ah, except this next commotion of course.
Yuki blended with the bystanders prior to releasing her glamour, so no one but a young teenager was startled by her appearance. Yuki quickly made sure her human glamour was in place, adding the illusion of long boots and a winter coat. The boy stuttered disbelief and Yuki raised a finger to her lips in a 'Sh' sign, freezing his lips together. Ranged freezing was no problem, as long as it was nothing big.

She shuffled through the small crowd to try and see what was happening, preferring to be close and eavesdrop then fly over head and look. All she could see was a blonde boy, wrapping a cloak around the presumably near-drowned human.
Yuki was met with disappointment that they had already pulled her out. But something else felt off. That she would admit.
Her eyes turned to scan the surrounding area. Her attention was snagged on a small Winter Faerie. Though antisocial, Yuki could sense her own kind.
However, she was more interested in the men standing above him.
Damn IPAF. They were everywhere. International Posse of Annoying Fuckers. No, Yuki didn't like that nickname. The elegancy of human 'curses' was lacking.
She turned back to the crowd, hoping neither of the vile men had noticed anything off about her, or her stare for that matter. She didn't care about the stupid Fae who'd been caught. She'd been able to escape run ins with the IPAF in other cities, under different glamours, and she'd always managed to slip away. It was his own fault.
Mostly, Yuki hoped there weren't any others lurking around, who would be able to discern her. Her glamour skills were strong, but she deffinitly didn't want to get caught.
She watched the blonde boy hug the drowned rat close, complaining that no one had called '911'.

Yuki couldn't help the giggle that pressed forth at those words. She found this 911 so pointless. But she was curious about the one the blonde held, and the off feeling she radiated.
Yuki held out her hand, pushing past the few bystanders to the front. Her hand would show a glamour of a cell phone, really just a small rectangle of ice.
"I'll call," She said shyly, with something akin to an Australian accent. She held the ice to her ear, keeping up her glamours as she moved around the boy, trying to glimpse the victims face.

Yuki's heart nearly stopped, and the air became even more frigid then it had been previously. It was the Queen. She could tell, through some ability she had, for she was Fae, but...
The Queen had no magic. She was... Mortal.
So many thoughts of muurder flashed into Yuki's mind she could hardly hold her glamours. Kill the Queen, and all Fae could stay in this world forever.
She could stay in this world.
Her hand trembled as it held the ice/phone to her ear, the block already slowly shifting into a knife. She hide it by her hair, trying to calm herself. Things wouldn't have to be so dramatic. If she was mortal, pathetic, weak mortal, simple cold would kill her.

"May I see her? I have Red Cross training, for emergencies like this," She cast her eyes down like she was embarrassed, beginning to shyly state the type of problem to her fake phone while glancing timidly up at the boy. Lying through her teeth. Acting. It was what she did best.
And it would serve her well here.


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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"Tiggy hates the cold." said a dark skinned girl with alot of curly brown hair that haloed her head. "It makes Tiggy shiver. Tiggy hates to shiver." she said and though she was wrapped in thick trenchcoat, a scarf, a hat, gloves long sleeved shirt underneath, thick jeans and long leather boots, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh, Tigs. You'll be fine." said a blond girl, she was one of her 'friends'
Tiggy was a Summer Fae. She hated the cold, as she is of the light. Typically, she'd be hidden away until Spring. Safe in OtherWorld, while the Dark Lord let his Winter ravage the land but not now, She was on a mission. She was to find the Queen. The Light Queen disappeared after the Fae appeared in this realm and The Summer Fae have made it their mission to find her before the Winter Fae does. Tiggy was a reconnaissance specialist. She was good at gathering information. She could just about find out anything about anyone. Unfortunately, that same ability cause her to forget things about herself, even her name, so to help, She speaks in the third person. She emerssed herself in human culture to find out more. So she aquired human friends. Her human friends simply thought she had a mental disfunction and didn't think anything else of her speaking in the third person. If anything, they found it amusing.

"Tiggy doesn't like the cold, Bailey." Tiggy said animately. Bailey laughed. "Look at it, Tigs. It's beautiful. Look at the trees, all covered in snow, the ground too. It's gorgeous." Bailey gasped. Tiggy was not amused. "It looks like death. The trees are dead, the ground is covered in ice and people slip and die. Tiggy doesn't want to slip."
"You won't slip, Tigs." Bailey assured her with hands on her shoulders. Tiggy sighed. She wanted to tell her she could but that would be a lie. For, Tiggy, it was impossible. Since the Arrival, Tiggy was unable to lie. It is not known why. Tiggy had to figure out how to tell only half truths in order to preserve her cover. It was hard and it will remain an unsolved mystery until they find the Light Queen. "Okay,but Tiggy still the cold." She said and Baliey laughed. "Okay but I'm gonna make you like it." She said and they walked toward a frozen pond. It was then that Tiggy heard shouts. Tiggy frowned and Bailey looked. "Should we help? I know CPR?" She told her and Tiggy nodded and they ran toward the sound.

It was a boy and a two girls. One was down and the other was claiming to help. Bailey rushed over and Tiggy stood, watching the blue lipped girl. " Winter Fae..." Tiggy whispered with a deep frown, she looked at the girl. Tiggy nearly gasped. By the Queen... She thought. It was the Queen. Was she mortal? How could that happen. That wasn't important now as there was a Winter Fae here. "Tiggy suggests you leave and make haste as you do so." She said after she approached the Winter Fae. Her voice was low, so low that only the two Fae could hear. How was the Light Queen mortal? Who did this?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Dunkelzahn Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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#, as written by Layla
The Queen was half of the world: the stems of which held the leaves, the light that coloured the world, the breaths each human exhaled, the blood that ran through the streams of all, the Sun, the Moon, everything. The world could not exist without Her, just as it could not without Him.

Long ago, a beautiful existence - the embodiment of Light - fell in love with Darkness, They could not be and the Gods warned them of the tragedy that would befall them should they pursue their passions. Light could not be with Darkness without chasing Him away and Darkness could not touch Light without drenching Her in His abyss. They listened not, however, and in the Shadows - where they almost touched, barely touched, somewhat did - they loved.

They defied the Gods and defied their nature, choosing one another above all else. Light and Darkness Created beings of their own, creatures made of their own essences, and named them the Fey. They became what was too wicked for Heaven and too good for Hell, an existence their Creators, too, lived. And so, they became the Light Queen and the Dark King and for what seemed to be too short a time, Light and Darkness lived as one.

Yet, the Dark King craved for more, whilst his lover did not. The Light Queen held on, begged and pleaded for the Dark King to stay, to be content with the haven they'd created for themselves. But the Dark King grew weary of what was and the Unchanging Queen could not change. Not in that way, at least. Not then. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts were formed, one closer to Hell and the other to Heaven, but neither ever close enough. The Queen - not wishing for her love to be alone - gave him a part of her soul and a part of all she was. The Dark King did the same and so the Light Queen treasured the Summer of her King's and the King, her Autumn.

However, the Light Queen could not find happiness in an existence so far removed from her King, her love, her Darkness. Light grew dim, until she was barely Light at all. She wept endlessly in what seemed to be a never-ending existence of tears and still, there were not enough oceans to fill her misery. There was a single Fey, however, the first Fey to ever have been created by Darkness and Light: Praxis Lethe.

He offered his Queen an escape from the torment: he offered her emptiness. Light gladly accepted, allowing for the Spring Fey to drain all of her emotions, all of her pain, until she was but a shell, but nonetheless, a shell without pain. Praxis became the Queen's second, taking all of her emotions so she could be Order, and Order she was. Under her cold rule, the Faerie Realms prospered. Under their emotionless Queen, they lived in balance.

But it was not to last.

The Dark King - in his need for Chaos and more - condemned the Fey to an existence on Earth and the Monarchs, to a life of theft. Light disappeared in the shift from the Faerie Realms to Earth and now the world was in threat of toppling from its fragile balance. Order was gone and now Chaos ruled.

Yet there, in a world shattered in ice, it was difficult to believe the frail - but oh so beautiful - woman had made the world. Was the world. She could not die; for if she did, the world would cease to exist, crumbling upon itself and Unmaking. Yet the Queen shivered, her small body trembling furiously in the unrelenting cold as if it had forgotten it was meant to be capable of melting snow and bringing about life.

Her teeth chattered as the stranger - all strangers - bundled her in his warmth. She didn't know whether to scurry away or to chase the heat that this man emitted. Neither. She would stay still; that was easy enough seeing as she was utterly numb. Her thick lashes fluttered, her lids unsure whether to close, blink or widen. None. She would not move for that was all she knew to do and could do at the present. Forever? Time held no meaning, nothing did, yet it should. A blue as pale as a sky made of clouds creeped into her gaze, fracturing the previous emerald so it looked as if she had broken glass or shattered ice for irises. It was the colour of fear as her heart threatened to rip itself from the veins that held it in place and crack against her ribcage. She felt like a flimsy piece of glass, as if the slightest breath of wind would shatter her to pieces. No, that was the world. The world was to break and she would be caught in the midst of it, as would her children - children? - and... The pounding in her being was fear.

There was someone. Someone who could take the fear away, take it all away. But who? The thought slipped from her mind, spilling from its cup and evaporating before it touched the ground. Amethysts, sapphires and rubies raced across her blue eyes, painting the confusion and chaos she felt so deeply in her gaze. No, she was not meant to be Chaos. Figures seemed to appear in the snow, darkness gathering into one familiar being and - it was gone. She felt as if she'd just been excavated from her mother's womb and she had to fill the silence with her cries but she could not cry. Could not utter a sound or breath and that was when she remembered she had to breathe.

She gasped, drinking in the precious air that the space about her held. Her kaleidoscope eyes darted frantically about, seeing but not seeing strange rectangular structures - giants - and odd, two-legged creatures. Head, check. Two arms, check. Two legs, check. Wings? Colour? They were dull but what were they? What was anything? Where was she? Who was she? The girl pressed her fingers into the side of her head, tugging at her strands of what was cascading snow for hair. Four walls pressed into her skull, threatening to tear it apart. Broken. She was broken and there was someone who could fix her. Had to. Who? Why?

“What are you waiting for? Somebody call 911!” shouted the man who held her. 911? She did not understand. Was that who she was? 911? No, why would he be calling her if she was there? Did that mean she was the spaces between each word? She was . Yes, that made sense. She was empty and she needed to be filled. She knew how. Light pulsed within the hearts of each figure, a blaze as unique as snowflakes. Her lids dropped lower, her pupils dilating as she pressed a cold hand against the chest of the man who held her. His light would fill her, fill the void, fill-

"May I see her? I have Red Cross training, for emergencies like this."

The Empty One raised her head, blinking thrice - precise - at the girl who'd spoken. An image of a mutilated bird made of ice crossed her mind for a brief moment, before disappearing into the abyss which seemed to be her head. Red Cross? What did such crosses symbolise? What did crosses symbolise? Where was the emergency? The language both this woman and the man spoke was strange, foreign, yet she understood it all. But she might as well have not for all the sense that it made. These words were tiring and she wished to sleep for another eternity, for that was what one did when they were weary.


"Look up," a voice commanded. The Empty One raised her head, her long hair spilling over her bare shoulder like ivory silk on soft, porcelain skin. The Werelion pointed his gun at the angel, not trusting Zahn or anyone else, for that matter. The girl's eyes did not glow any more than a human's did, although its kaleidoscope appearance was rather unnerving. "Human," Kiser stated as he turned away. Drowning girls were not in his area and not a part of his contract. He would leave human girls to the care of kind old ladies or horrid, sick men - whichever - what did it matter?

The Empty One coughed, her shoulders shifting as she placed her fingers over her throat. Water. This was what one did when water entered their lungs and as if she'd just remembered she'd nearly drowned, the girl coughed furiously, doubling over and trembling in the cold. Stay still be cold numb drowning nothing everything take light empty breathe stop suffocate suffocating.


The name disappeared, as if snatched and soaked into the dark walls of her mind. Her now crystal grey eyes watered, their life dimming as she snatched desperate gasps from the air, before coughing furiously. She didn't know if she was meant to live or die so she settled for the in between, letting her body crumble - or perhaps unwillingly so - onto the ice and her head upon it as she clutched her breast. Breathe. Don't. Her eyes searched the world frantically, her heart throwing itself in all directions and the sounds, voices, noises were too loud. Too much. It was all too much and it would never be enough and she needed him to take it all away. Needed to stop feeling, to stop being anything but what she was meant to be.

She searched for him in the crowds of people - get away, get away, get away - light pulsed in the hearts of the figures around her - her light - and she reached for the woman who'd spoken of red crosses. She would take her light, her essence, her warmth -

Fill the void and silence the darkness.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Dunkelzahn Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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The girl's face was more beautiful then anything Justin had laid eyes upon. The Pink Puma paled in comparison to her even when she was shivering like an epileptic and was trying to pull off her best drowned rat impression. Underneath the streetlamps, her hair churned in a silver river, flowing across whatever it touched with a grace unmatchable by any mortal being. Her eyes sparkled like glass pools, staring into the empty space of the void beyond. The cut of her chin, the tone of her skin, the shape of her nose, everything about her was absolutely perfect.

The air was getting colder, he could tell from the slowly declining feeling in his bare arms. Pushing away the urge to take back his nice, warm cloak, Justin held the girl close and rubbed his arms. "May I see her? I have Red Cross training, for emergencies like this,". Justin looked up to see a stunning black haired woman appear from the crowd. Her locks forming a perfect contrast with the frigid snow and her pale skin. His mouth opened to say a hasty thank you when he sensed something...strange. The way her feet touched the ground, the distribution of her weight and the fluidity of her movements, all of them differed from the numerous others in range of his tremor-sense. Of course, everyone was different. Human's tended to slouch to the side they write with, vamps tend to move quicker and were's put a lot of weight on the front of their feet. This girl however, did not show any signs of these defining traits.

Along with his tremor-sense, the air seemed to grow colder the closer this girl came. Of course, it could just be his imagination, a simple trick of the mind. Still, Justin did not trust this girl. The thief shuffled back nervously, holding the girl towards him protectively. “It's alright, I have training myself. If you could, um, just phone, that would be great.” Lifting her off the ice, Justin carried her to the snowbanks beside it and laid the girl down on his cloak, running his hand through her wet, silky hair. 'All right, I've got to help her! Crap, crap! What do I do? Alright, just calm down and remember school. The first thing to do is...check for breathing!' The blonde boy lowered his ear to the girls mouth. Tiny puffs of air brushed against his cheek, just barely there. Nimble fingers gently pulled her chin upwards, opening her airway. 'Crap, what's next. She needs more breath. I guess that means....I'm gonna have to do.....CPR.'

A blush spread over the young thief's cheeks. Is he allowed? He would never even think of kissing someone without their permission of a sign of consent...but, this is to save her life. Slowly, Justin bent over the girl. Her face looked so peaceful, so serene, that he was afraid to disturb it for fear it would break into a thousand pieces. With one hand on her chin to keep the airway open and the other under her head to keep it stable, Justin, ever-so-gently, kissed the girl, blowing life-fueling air into her lungs.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki
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With a heavy sigh at the sight of multiple people getting involved with none of them seeming to know what to. Azriel leaps off his perch toward the water. If he let this keep going the poor woman would die from ignorance. He landed just short of the water's surface to be sure not to crack the ice below with a sudden increase in weight. The ball of blood moves to his feet suddenly as he steps onto the ice, shifting into a flat wide surface area for each of his steps. He calls out loudly before Justin can kill the helpless girl "Stop Kodomo. CPR is only used to restart the heart and lungs. She is coughing which means her lungs and heart are fine." He sighs heavily shaking his head in disappointment as he walked out over the ice. "For a boy with such quick hands your mind can't keep up." The innuendo was fully intended. His voice had a gentle rumble to it as he spoke, the accent he used was implacable. As if it where a blend of every accent known to man. The word he used earlier was Japanese for kid, one of many languages he spoke rather fluently. A few of the people in the crowd seemed to nod and chuckle at the confused Justin, agreeing with the vampire.

Finally getting to the group on the other side of the ice he gives the dark haired girl a respectful nod before turning back to the child that nearly suffocated a woman trying to catch her breath. He knew full well what Yuki was, but quiet frankly didn't care. He never had any reason to have qualm with the Fae people as a whole and to date had only been hired to kill a select few for various different reason. Nothing personal. "She needs heat, Humans tend to dislike the extreme cold without heavy amounts of clothing which is likely causing her shortness of breath. I would expect you to know this. Wrap her up and hold her close to your chest while we walk, I have a home near by. Two blocks that way. It will be much faster than any ambulance can get here in this snow, especially with the city not fully adapted to deep winter yet. Add onto that our advantage in speed and we should be able to have her treated within the next half hour rather than the multiple hours the ambulance will take to get here then back to a hospital..." He nodded in a direction toward the nearest street to show which direction they should go. He seemed to be choosing his words to specifically point out his lack of need to resort to theft, without pointing it out to the others in the area. The last part of his statement was specifically meant to give the boy a small boost in personal ego. He didn't know Justin well, but he did know the kid was fast and agile for a human and that was at least something.

As he stepped onto the snow bank near Justin the blood beneath his feet flows up his leg and coats his arm underneath his coat in order to keep it invisible. Those onlookers who saw him at a distance before hand would simply believe it was a shadow. He liked to hide this ability from the humans as they never enjoyed being reminded in any way that his kind fed on their blood, a silly need but one that served its purpose. He steps toward the crowd which quickly parts to let the man who seemed to know what he was doing and the injured girl through. He would have carried her himself but he didn't produce heat like human's did. So he would leave it to the space heater with the fast hands.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Iokul Frosti Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias Character Portrait: Yuki Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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#, as written by Layla

Warm lips pressed against hers and the girl briefly melted into the kiss, wrapping her willowy arms around the man and pulling him close. She wondered why Iokul's lips were so warm when they were normally so cold and the thought pulled her from the lovely trance. A warmth emitted from his chest and she ran her hands over him, pressing her palm against his heart. Before she could taste his heat, however, he was pulled away by the words of another.

"Stop, Kodomo. CPR is only used to restart the heart and lungs. She is coughing which means her lungs and heart are fine," the man said. The frozen girl lifted her lips, her lashes so long and curled that they touched her skin as if she'd layered on perfectly applied mascara. Her sultry blue eyes dilated before gold washed into them like ink poured in clear water. Her irises imitated the man's as she tilted her head to the side, observing him with curiosity. The flame in his heart burned differently, as if it were a supernova, as if his soul were eternal. His essence was closer to that of her children than to that of the feeble, mortal flames she saw all around her. Her irises shifted through colours, fading into a deep sunset gold before sinking into a neon yellow, eventually settling for a molten gold with flecks of green. Still, she could not recreate his eyes.

"I ask that you abandon your attire," she said. Her voice was quiet, yet it seemed to echo against mountains miles away and carry over space and time. Her voice was breathless, as if made from the sweetest nectars, like pollen flying through the air. Her voice was the song of love, of home, wholeness and perfection. She sounded to be everything, yet her voice seemed to be as impossible to hold onto as it was heartbreaking to hear. Whatever she said, whatever she did, was a work of art. "He has painted Winter," she stated, gazing up at the sky with its tennis balls of snow descending. The Queen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the strong winds skittered around her, as if fearful of what she might do should they touch her without her consent. She was rather cold and the wet, near transparent robes that clung to her hourglass figure were unsurprisingly, not very warm. The High Queen's head lowered slowly, her unblinking gaze fixing on the Winter Fey that was Yuki. Order moved as if time held no meaning - which it didn't - and she controlled the very clocks of the world. Which she did.

"I see you, child. Your thoughts are as loud as a mad beast's bark and somehow, exceedingly more irritating." Order paused. "You are easily Unmade." Her eyes traced the line in which the Winter Fey had blown her icy kiss towards her Summer Fey, Tiggy. The Queen blinked, as close to acknowledgement as she ever got.

Just then, the Queen abruptly jerked her head to the side as if she'd just been slapped with vice. An icy stillness filled her. The moment of clarity was gone, replaced by the dimness in her eyes as if she were seeing the world through tinted glass. The girl took a frightened stepped back, clutching the red silk cape around her. She took another step backwards and ran.

She ran through the city with its sprawling skyscrapers and bustling humans. Where she ran, the world seemed to slow as people stopped and stared at the perfect creature racing through them. She was a flurry of white as her long white hair was tossed about, shining and mixing into the deep red of her cape. The only points of colour on her face was the deep crimson of her lips, distinctly outlining the dip of her cupid's bow and the shattered glass of her eyes.

Neon lights yelled at her and she flinched away, unfamiliar with the artificial lights that were not made by her. Car horns tore through the air as cars screeched to a stop to prevent themselves from slamming into the model/ghost/angel. The pale girl jumped, stumbling backwards as she lifted her arm to shield herself from the blinding headlights of the horizontally challenged unicorns. She quickly turned and ran from the unicorns that wished to kill her, her bare feet creating no sound as they barely touched the pavements. She ran until she found a secluded alley, where she leaned against the wall and slid to the ground, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Despite the marathon she'd participated in, her hair cascaded over her shoulder as she pressed her forehead to her knees. Her locks of hair were straight at the top, slowly forming into large waves and fading into perfect curls by the time they reached her hips. The girl clutched the red cloth around her, shivering against the cold.


"Bad day?" Kiser asked Anastasia as he leaned against the doorframe. "Wait, no, don't answer that. Good days don't happen for pessimists," he said with a smirk, pushing away from the wall and walking towards the IPAF leader. He loomed over her, being 6'3", a fact of which he was very proud of. Kiser stood closer to her than he needed to, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was beautiful, and very, very sexy.

"Ana," he whispered against her ear, bending slightly to be closer to her lips. "I caught another Fey today. Type 4. He's in the holding room and speaking of rooms, I just moved into my new apartment. It has a very, very nice master bedroom," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing, pulling away from his dearest Anastasia.

"Something I'm not happy about," he began, raising a thick brow. "Is Chris. Remind me again why I have to deal with that idiot?" Chris was a new member of IPAF and his 'authorities' had insisted he be Chris' tour guide and mentor until he could be entrusted with IPAF's secrets and responsibilities. Chris was an idiot. Kiser raked his eyes over Anastasia's body, smiling slightly. He was not normally this flirtatious but pomegranate juice did that to him, as did Anastasia. Just as abruptly as he'd entered the room, his attitude changed. "Get me off the assignment," he growled with a scowl, folding his muscular arms over his chest, the lion's head tattoo over his bicep flexing as he did. "Chris is a kid."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki
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The second Yuki tried to lean on Azriel she felt a blunt object slams into her diaphragm. It was a motion that was made so quickly that it was nearly invisible to the naked eye. She wouldn't be able to tell if it was an elbow that hit her or something else, regardless it would keep her at a distance. He made no motion to attack her simply turned the constant scowl that was his face toward her before speaking coldly "I don't know you Fae woman and don't wish too... And no you may not join us." His tone had not changed, but one could feel anger in his voice. He had never been one to like people touching him in any manner by anyone. So when this fae girl decided they where some how close enough for physical contact. She was lucky he didn't decide to gut her there in the street. He had the means and the ability, the only thing stopping him was the large group of humans in the area. He had no intention of causing a stampede, however the moment he said the word Fae the people around them started to rush away from Yuki. A select few brave people decided to stay where they stood, it was unclear if they meant to hurt the Fae girl. He had only used the term because she saw fit to remind everyone he was a Vampire, it was only a fair trade to let them all know she was a Faery.

He turns when he hears the girl speak seeing her take the man's cloak then seemingly have a break down. He sighs lightly as the boy loses his grip on the light girl. "And now I have to hunt... how annoying." He leans forward and his body blurs slightly as he takes off toward one of the near by sky scrapers running along the flat surface of the outside walls of the massive buildings. The blood on his arm had moved to his feet, creating small spikes that dug into the walls as he ran horizontally along the buildings. The girl had already disappeared into the masses by the time anyone had a chance to react, luckily he could feel her blood pumping and was following her by heart beat instead of sight. He moved so quickly along the buildings that a human would have to be staring at the exact spot he crossed simply to catch a glimpse of him, following him with their eyes would be impossible. It would give him the appearance of teleporting to any onlooking human, reappearing whenever he slowed down enough for their eyes to catch him. It wouldn't take him long to find his prey, especially with her hear pounding so loudly on his radar. She seemed to be in shock, which he attributed to having just emerged from ice cold water. This would at least help warm her up.

Coming upon the alley she had taken as a safe place he made sure his entrance into the alley went unnoticed by staying stuck to a wall high above her. He simply observed for a moment to gauge her mental state before he moved around to one of the regular entrances. In his observation he had noticed the alley was a dead end. So he walked in from the street side, for two reasons. One it would seem more normal for him to not appear out of nowhere, and Two he wanted to be sure he would at least have a few moments to speak to her before she ran off again. It would be unfortunate if she ended up killing herself with cold simply because she had panic'ed. This strategy brought to mind why he was helping her, he really at this point didn't know. Usually he would simply let humans live and die as they pleased, only ending those he was hired to. Something was off in this case though, for some reason he felt compelled to help. It would require further thought later on.

He steps lightly into the entrance of the alley, moving in only a few steps before leaning on the opposite wall from her. This put a lot of distance between them so she would hopefully feel a bit safer, it also allowed the lights from the street to hit him so she could see him well. The blood on his feet had moved up to his leg where it couldn't be seen under his pants. He waited a long moment to let her notice him on her own, sitting quietly without making any move toward or away from her. He seemed to be staring at the wall opposite him instead of looking at her. He closed his eyes a few times even as if resting slightly. He didn't seem to have any intention of forcing her to do anything. After a long moment he leans forward and takes his long jacket off, revealing the bandages and leather belts that covered his arms. He folds it up a bit before holding it out toward her but still not looking at her "You can wear this if you want... Its probably a bit warmer than those strips of cloth." He was referring both to the cloak and the dress that proved useless when wet. "There is heat in these buildings, I actually live in this one." He reached up his other hand and knocked on the cement of the apartment building he leaned on. In her panic she had ran a long way but had circled on accident and come back a bit, ending up two blocks from where she had originally been. His tone sounded bored but some how still caring. It seemed he wanted to help but had no interest in weather she accepted his help or not so it truly was her choice.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Justin Maysharp Character Portrait: Yuki
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At the sound of Azriel's voice, Justin pulled himself away from the woman, the CPR had unintentionally become more of a kiss then a medical procedure. A small crack came from his neck as he turned to see who would interrupt him as he was trying to save this woman's life! He scowled almost immediately 'Why? Why does it have to be him?' A small shiver ran up the blonde's spine as he remembered their last encounter.

The wind was particularly strong tonight, much to Justin's discomfort. While his outfit was excellent at allowing him mobility and freedom, the cold breeze slipped right through the fabric. The thief shook his arms to get the blood flowing, who knows when they could come in handy. The only trace of his being was the faint footprints he left on the thin snow covering the roofs. A flock of birds, what species Justin couldn’t tell, erupted from underneath him as he vaulted over a low chimney onto the next building. With a few waves of his hand, the birds departed in a flurry of feathers. A small cut had appeared on his right thigh but it wasn't much of an issue.

As he reached the end of the building, Justin skidded to a stop, almost falling off the edge. Earlier that day, the construction company had destroyed his only way into the mansion in which the Blood Opal lay. Justin cursed, pressed his hand to his chin, and began to think. 'Dammit, that was my only way in. How can I get there now?' His eyes drifted down to the cobblestone sidewalk that was common in this part of town, it's individual stones reflecting a multitude of colors in the moonlight. The blonde thief grinned. He was a genius.

With a snap of his fingers, pieces of the sidewalk began to vibrate, emitting a low grinding sound. The sound intensified as four large pillars began to erupt from the ground, making a straight line towards the mansion. A wave of fatigue washed over Justin. Using these powers always took a lot out of him, though this time wasn't as bad as the last. Who knows? Maybe he's finally getting used to these new powers. He quickly hopped across the four platforms and released the flow of energy, causing the pillars to sink back into the ground. The only thing blocking him from the gem was the electronic locks on these windows. 'Feh, you'd think they'd upgrade their security. These locks are almost three years old!' He fetched a small brown box from his belt and attached it to the lock. The box blinked red once...twice...three times and....presto! With a small green flash, the window sprung open.

Once assured by his tremor-sense that no one was nearby, Justin pressed the other device attached to his belt. The camera blocker clicked and went to work, creating a small magnetic field around the thief. This would make it so any camera's he came upon would only catch a small disturbance in the air. As Justin made his way through the manor, he was amazed that someone could hang so many ugly paintings and photo's of themselves. The walls were literally covered in portraits of the mansions horrible owner. Eventually, the thief found his way to the parlor. Again, tremor-sense picked up nothing.

The parlor was a large circular room that was, like the rest of the house, covered in portraits. Seriously, how many does this guy have? Numerous chairs were spread out in front of the fireplace at that rested at the far end of the room. Right in the center of the room however, sat his prize. The Blood Opal was a deep green, covered in speckles of dark red. The flames bounced off it's surface, creating a myriad of colors much like a prism would. Justin smirked and strode towards the jewel. Maybe he'd give the money from this one to the girl on the street. That way she could finally buy a house to live in instead of crouching in that dirty alley.

Suddenly, a sharp pain sprouted from his right cheek. He gasped in surprise and touched his new laceration. Warm blood coated his fingertips. A crimson arrow buried itself in the chair closest to him with a resounding thunk, quickly melting into a small red puddle on the cushion. 'What? Tremor-sense didn't-' Another arrow flew towards it's target, whistling through the air at alarming speed. Allowing his instinct to take over, Justin dove behind the display case, the projectile missing his ear by a fraction of a centimeter and shattering the glass around the priceless gem. In less then a second, twin daggers filled the rogue's hands. He turned to face his assailant.

Azriel hung from the rafters of the parlor, his black hair pulled in front of his face by the force of gravity. Chains covered his dark clothes, giving him the look of a spirit sent from hell. The ball of blood swirling around him didn't do much to compliment his appearance. “Huh, I wasn't expecting a vamp bodyguard. This is getting interesting.” The vampire answered with a flurry of knives from the ball of bodily fluids. The thief's grin returned. This certainly was interesting. His daggers flashed as the bloody weapons bounced off the cool steel, melting upon impact. Two of them managed to bypass his guard however, opening two cuts on his right arm. Justin swore he could see a small smile on the vampire's lips. “I wasn't expecting you to be able to block my attack. This is going to be very interesting indeed.”

The assassin gracefully fell off the wall, the ball turning into a scarlet hand-and-a-half sword, and launched himself towards Justin. He barely had time to cross his knives to absorb the impact. The thief jumped backwards and skillfully hopped up the wall onto the rafters, keeping one eye on his opponent, the other on the Opal. 'All right, if I can just get to the gem, I can get out of he-' His thought was cut short by a sudden flash of red as the vamp brought his sword down above him. 'When did he-?!' Justin lurched to the side, the sword cutting through the rafter like butter. 'Shit, I'm no match for him. This guy's way too strong. I've got to escape now!'

Using all of his speed, the thief scooped the gem off the floor and plunged through the window, three floors above the ground. He snapped his fingers just as the vamp's head poked through the window. Justin smiled and gave him a quick salute. “Better luck next time!”. The ground opened, plunging him into the sewers below. The water splashed around him as he hit the waves, sending little hunks of fecal matter and god knows what else into the air around him. He ebbed the flow of energy, allowing the hole to close. The last he saw of the vampire, he was standing on the third floor smiling.


Yet here he was, helping him save this woman's life. Maybe he wasn't as bad as Justin had initially thought. The woman in his arms began to stand up on her own. Justin smiled, maybe she was alright after all!

Then she began to run away.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” He cried after the woman as he ran after her. She was going to die if she didn't get medical attention! "And now I have to hunt... how annoying." Justin frowned, “What do you mean by hunt? Don't you hurt her!” He started to run after them but quickly lost them in the crowd. He kicked at the snow in frustration. “That was my favorite cloak!” A puff of breath was visible in the frigid air. Even though he didn't trust the vampire, Justin was sure he wouldn't attack the girl surrounded by this many people. In fact, for some odd reason, he trusted him to keep her safe. The thief returned to the black haired fae, her weird tremor-sense readings making perfect sense now. Justin had nothing against the fae, in fact , he quite enjoyed them. Not only were they exceptionally beautiful, they always brought something new and exiting to the bedroom. He rested his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “Don't worry, he'll take care of her. Want to grab something to eat?”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Iokul Frosti Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Capricorn Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias
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#, as written by Layla

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kiser asked, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the Fey beasts tear the lab apart. The cold dug into the walls of the building, seeping into every inch of the Earth like skeletal fingers made of steel. The Were raised a brow, watching the fair coloured Fey with disdain. The Fey cradled a Type D in his arms and Kiser would've assumed he himself was a mere Type C had he not sensed the power that rolled from his skin, so thick it was nearly tangible. The IPAF commander assumed he should've been afraid then but alas, a Were's instincts overtook any sort of fear, replacing it with instead rage. Kiser had received an urgent message from IPAF Research Lab 86B, speaking of the deaths of dozens and the infiltration of their building. Of course, he would've noticed the monstrous blizzard in the distance without having to have received the call.

As a Were, the cold affected him little. His body was naturally much more heated than the average human's. In fact, he could hug a wall of ice and melt right through it. Not that he ever would, of course. Weres disliked the cold, however much it did not affect them. Kiser narrowed his eyes at the destruction, a small part of him impressed at the damage that had been done. The Type C before him clearly was not merely a Type C and being not quite stupid - most of the time - Kiser knew he could not defeat these Fey singlehandedly. He supposed it might've been a mistake to arrive here with only a dozen men but IPAF had many at its disposal, the deaths of a dozen would not impact it greatly, neither would the destruction of one lab. After all, most of the Fey they'd kept here were dead.

"Go," he whispered into his earpiece. Without a moment's pause, he spun and ran, his body rippling through the air as his muscles warped into that of an abnormally large lion. Men crashed through the ruin, their guns trained on the Fey as they rained iron and wielded broadswords, decapitating ogres. The men gave the Werelion leader a nod of camaraderie as they raced pass him, knowing their deaths were certain. The Fey were cruel, soulless creatures who needed to be destroyed and just as soldiers died in war, this was their battlefield. They died so their children, their loved ones, might have a chance at freedom. It was a difficult, quite possibly impossible task, but humans, Earthlings, as they were, fought for things that were impossible because they hoped. A wolf howled as his comrades fell, but his despair morphed into rage, as so many Weres did. The Werewolf bared his teeth, the fur over his body prickling as his muscles tensed for the move. He leaped at the man who was Capricorn.

In the distance, a lion tore through the woods - the trees naked with its fallen leaves - his body morphing abruptly into that of a muscular, grown man. Kiser exhaled, a fog of condensation escaping his mouth as if he were a chimney. "Ana," he spoke into his earpiece. "Ana," he repeated. "We'll have to explain things to the families of Team 102. Send a team of cleaners to Lab 86B. Experiments 9, 12, 33, 216, 59, 18, 17 and 99 have been compromised."

Kiser tapped his earpiece, adding a member of IPAF he very much distrusted to the conversation. It would allow for Anastasia to hear and participate and Kiser did not wish to think that she already knew what he suspected and merely chose not to tell him. The Fey he was soon to speak to was... But Leau was good at what she did, something Kiser hated to admit. "Unidentified flying ass, hey," he said without the usual snakiness he normally reserved for Leau. "So I was at the bar, swarmed by girls, as per usual, when I met this Type C. No, not just any Type C and no, it didn't make me cry. But this Type C had waves of power just spilling from its skin and a nasty look scythe. Please, enlighten me, Leau, why did he seem so much stronger than any of the other bastards we've met? What have you not told us, Leau? Who leads the Fey? We always thought they were solitary but after this little display of Fey teamwork, I'm beginning to think otherwise. Who controls the Fey?"


"You can wear this if you want... It's probably a bit warmer than those strips of cloth."

The white-haired mortal lifted her head, her heart tearing itself from her chest as their gazes seemed to entwine and pull viciously at one another's. She looked at the jacket the man held in his hand with the weariness of someone who'd just been thrown into a foreign world. She was not sure of anything and she did not know where to place her trust. Nowhere. Her mind seemed to be a black hole, devouring every organised thought she had. A black veil had been doused over her memories and she could not remember where she was, what she was, how she'd arrived here or where she'd been before, when she'd been born or even who she was.

"There is heat in these buildings, I actually live in this one," the man said, tapping against a wall. She looked at him with half puzzlement, half fear, but the cold got the better of her. Her teeth slapped against one another, a fog escaping her crimson lips and painting over her vision. Everything seemed so shielded and disguised.

"T-thank you," she said quietly, clutching the red silk to her body as she raised her delicate hand slowly. Her fingers curled around the coat and she flinched at the texture of the material against her skin but drew it to her, anyway. The woman wrapped the jacket around herself with haste, basking in the warmth of the extra layer but feeling cold enough to throw herself into a fire.

Snow rained from the skies as she held out her palm, her slim fingers appearing to be frail enough to snap with a breath. A snowflake drifted onto her open hand. The young woman stared at the ice on her pale skin, tears threatening to spill from her now sapphire eyes. Iokul. Eyes of crystalline blue flickered in her mind, struggling to remain in her empty thoughts. A layer of ice coated a body like dust on a corpse or a thin sprinkle of second skin. His beauty was eerie, impossible, as if he should not and could not exist, yet did. Iokul. The man lifted an arm, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he reached for his Queen. "Raena, my love."

The image shattered. In its place, eyes - as if forged from thunder - gazed into the very depths of what she was with a betrayal and disappointment that seemed to curl around her neck and snap her skull from her body. His body of shadow encompassed her light, suffocating her essence and drowning her in its endless depths. She gasped, inhaling air that did not exist, breathing when there was nothing left to breathe for.

Suddenly, she crashed into her body, as if her spirit had wandered from its shell for what seemed to be years but was in reality, seconds. Her hand trembled, her fingers turning a dangerous shade of blue as she stared at the still frozen snowflake in her palm. Her body was as cold as ice and her mind, just as frozen. Without the Faerie Realms and her connection to her Fey - her souls - she was nothing but a non-existence. When the veil between the worlds had been lifted and the Faeries torn from their world, a Fey of her own had cast magic over his Queen to protect her from death, and her immortality had been the price.

Her eyes gazed through the Vampire before her, seeing him and nothing else, yet seeing nothing at all. Her emptiness made her even colder than the Undead as she pressed the snowflake into his palm. The turmoil of emotions within her was suffocating, depriving her of air. She needed him to be her breath. Her frail hand pressed into the Vampire's, the snowflake frozen between two without warmth. "Who am I?"


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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When she took the jacket he didn't seem to react, as if it didn't really matter at this point. He finally turned his eyes to her, seeing the fear and confusion filling her. Unfortunately there was very little for him to do for her until she trusted him. Once she did he would be able to talk her through her anxiety, but until then it would be like a monster trying to teach a little girl not to be afraid. She seemed to space out at that moment, staring at a snowflake the way a child would when first discovering they each looked different. It was something more however, she looked haunted by something. Some thought that was filling her mind with even more troubling thoughts. A memory perhaps? Whatever it was it did not last long. The stillness was broken as the girl moved to him and took his hand, pressed the snowflake to his palm and asked an odd question that caught him a little off guard. He hadn't expected her to not know who she was. Amnesia was such a rare thing to see, even for a 900 year old vampire. He had seen it of course a hand full of times, but each time it came as something of a shock. His shock however never reached his face or eyes. Instead he stayed as calm as he was when he first entered the alley. It was a stone shield that guarded his emotions and never seemed to waver, it was unclear if this was due to training or injury.

Azriel looked at their hands for a long moment, pressed together like that he could feel her lack of heat. His mind wandered to the blood pumping through her veins and could feel her core temperature beginning to drop already. He listened to her words and they bit into his mind, dragging out memories long past of people who had suffered from amnesia. With the memories thrown out in front of him he suddenly realized why she had freaked out before. She didn't know where or who she was. He had toyed with the notion of what it would be like in the past, but years of thought brought him to one conclusion. It would be very unsettling. A simple yet honest conclusion, he had no way of knowing how he would react in a situation like that. So instead he concluded on what he did know. Looking now into this girl's magical eyes he could see her pain, her turmoil, and wanted nothing less than to be able to take it from her. In this case however he couldn't, he didn't know enough about her or her past to help her. He did know one thing however, she was freezing and would die from it if it wasn't taken care of soon. He stood gently at that thought, being sure he kept her hand gently in his own as he said "I don't know who you are.. All I know is you are going to die of cold if we don't warm you up, that body you have isn't made for extreme cold." His voice held honest concern for her at its lead, but deeper down it held wisdom, hammered into it from a thousand years of mistakes and learning. Just from sound one could tell he wished only to help her. His body seemed some how both relaxed and tense at the same time, his face showing little to no emotion on it. His eyes however spoke for him, they held worry. Not a regular worry you see when people are not sure about a change in their life, but honest calculated worry. His mind had figured out exactly how much longer she could stay in the cold safely, purely out of experience and the answer was not something he liked. He finally added "Come with me inside, we can worry about figuring out who you are in there." If she chose to stand he would help her in a gentlemanly manner learned ages ago, back in the days when being a gentleman actually meant something. He was definitely a relic in a modern world, but something drove him to hold onto those ideals.

His golden eyes seemed to deepen some how as he remembered a girl long ago in the Victorian age. She had gotten lost on the outskirts of town when a blizzard hit. With no shelter for miles and only the wooden coach and her many layers of dress to protect her she shouldn't have lasted as long as she did. The horse had come undone and ran off, taking with it any hope of survival. A search party was created and Azriel had been hired by the girls rich father to find her. Little did the man know he had been involved with her and would have gone looking simply for the knowledge she was lost. They searched all night for the girl, making a gradual circle around the city in which they lived. Azriel of course used his speed to cover much more ground than the rest. After seven hours he finally found her in the flipped carriage, huddled in a corner with a spare horse blanket wrapped around the parts of her she couldn't keep warm. She had died a few hours before Azriel had gotten within range of her, causing his ability to feel people through blood nearly useless as it was not living anymore. That moment had hardened him as he carried her still body back to town to be laid to rest in their families grave. He had seen many people die in his lifetime, many by his hand. Too many did not deserve their fate. This one however was different, rarely did he care for people. Knowing full well they would leave his life as he past through them in the sands of time. This one had been different and had taken a part of him with her as she died.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Capricorn Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias Character Portrait: Rorgen Avulstein Character Portrait: Harold Chester
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#, as written by Layla

The skies were cruel. The young woman wondered for long moments as she watched the snowflakes tumble from the skies, unsure of their destination. The clouds had unclasped their seat belts, allowing their children to spill from their wombs and fill with an icy emptiness along the way. They would fall, fall and fall, not knowing of their fates until the very end when they shattered upon pavements or into the heated palms of mortals. She wondered as to why a parent would lead their children to their deaths and an unexplainable guilt slithered up her spine, into and beneath her skin.

"I don't know who you are.. All I know is you are going to die of cold if we don't warm you up, that body you have isn't made for extreme cold. Come with me inside, we can worry about figuring out who you are in there," said the man before her. The grey ice dug into her flesh, pushing past the thin material of her soaked dress of white. She pressed her back against the rough bricks behind her, observing the man's gold eyes with a curious contemplation. She felt no doubt, being as trustworthy as a newborn child who'd not yet learned to walk or hate.

"If you do not know who I am, why do you care for me?" She tilted her head to the side, standing gingerly and wobbling on her knees made of bones that felt more like shortbread. The cold surface behind held her upright as she leaned against it, her pale existence a mark of light in the darkness of the alley. Apricot lights painted strawberry blonde streaks in her long hair, crimson soaking into her soft lips and amber bleeding into their gold eyes. The sunset cast a mesmerising glow over the snow capped mounds of buildings, the beauty only interrupted by the heavy black coats of people bustling about. They were too busy with places to go and people to meet in preparation for tomorrow to live today.

Soft fingertips touched Azriel's cheek, dancing lightly along his immortal face and tracing the hard line of his jaw. The strange girl's eyes faded from one shade of gold to another, puzzlement drawing her brows lightly together as she struggled to recreate the beauty of his orbs. "You have strange eyes," she whispered, her accent familiar as if she were imitating his. Her voice was near dazzling, as if it'd be able to choke mortals and render them motionless with it's sound of thick honey and eerie winds of night.

The woman turned, each elegant movement as if choreographed. She drifted through the snow like a ghost, walking towards the building the Vampire had gestured towards. Pausing before the strange slab of wall built within a wall, the girl stared at what was the door with utter confusion. Why would one build a wall within a wall? She pressed her palm against the door, pushing at it but receiving no response in return. "What is this odd mechanism? How does one remove the wall?" she asked absentmindedly, poking and prodding the edges of the wall to no avail. She looked at the sign on the door that read 'Pull.' "Pull?" she echoed. She looked at the curved metal on the door, wondering if it was safe or if it was some trigger for a curse. Taking a breath of bravery, she nodded towards the Vampire as one soldier would another. Her long fingers curled around the handle of the door. She pulled.

There was a gust of warmth and a surprised gasp as the wall came undone. "What a peculiar gate!" she exclaimed. A tentative step was taken, then another and another. The warmth emitting from the inbuilt heaters was heavenly, and she quickly raced deeper into the building, clutching both the red cape and jacket to her body. A man on his journey downstairs watched the frail woman with hunger and malice. The clockworks of his mind were spinning rapidly as he fantasised about the things he could do to her and how he would achieve his goals.

When they'd entered the Vampire's humble abode, she gazed around like a small child who'd just discovered the existence of places outside of home. "You live in a box," she said, taking an unbalanced step forward. The walls were very flat and the ceilings were as well, with no sign of murals. Everything was very... Square. She spun on the balls of her feet, spinning around and around like a toddler learning to dance ballet. Yet, there was an almost inhuman grace to her clumsiness. She paused, looking at Azriel with a trust children reserved only for their mothers. "I am weary," she stated. She walked through the doors and into Azriel's bedroom, nodding at the bed within it in approval as if she'd just concluded it was the only normal thing in the entire place. She climbed onto the bed and crawled beneath the covers, tucking the thick blankets beneath her chin. After wiggling about for the most comfortable position, she shut her eyes and fell asleep.

ImageLight sang. Her voice carried none of the power it once did, having been dimmed to a flicker of candlelight. Rather than being powerfully haunting and deep, it was merely... Cute. That was, if one thought ghosts could sound cute. It was as if an ocean had transformed into a shallow - but lovely - stream after years of drought. Her long dress drifted along the grass made of cotton, that had been made from gold, emerald and sapphire. The rocks were translucent as if each were rare mountains of moonstone. Trees bowed before the High Queen, their branches lowered in respect. Despite the kaleidoscope of light dancing along the ivory walls of the enchanting Faerie Realms, a darkness seemed to loom overhead. The atmosphere was subdued, the world void of creatures and sound except for that of the singing Queen.

The stillness was the equivalent of a post-apocalyptal world within the Faerie Realms. No human-sized butterflies batted their crystal faceted wings against gossiping flowers, no obsidian streams cascaded into the skies and no stars gleamed in daylight. Order wandered, her presently amber eyes unseeing as she wandered amongst the lifeless. Her bare feet made no sound, their movements as seemingly stationary as the moonstone rocks they passed.

Freckles of snow tumbled from the skies.


"Which part of 'adapt to human technology' and 'keep your bloody tracker on' do you not understand, Leau?" Kiser growled, cracking his knuckles and his neck. "Did you hear a thing I said? Do you know what I think when IPAF agents don't respond to their calls, Unidentified Flying Ass?" he hissed. "I think they're dead. Dead, Leau. And you know what I think when I think you're dead? I think 'Well, damn. That's an extra fifty bucks to clean up her dead body parts.'" The Werelion slapped Leau across the back, a gesture that was meant to show all was forgiven but he still distrusted her, but instead - most likely - aggravated the Fey's wounds.

Kiser turned away from the Fey, brisk walking away from the IPAF agents behind him to tuck himself in a secluded corner. He pulled his personal phone from his jean's back pocket - as for his upper body, he was shirtless, that being nothing unusual - and dialled a familiar number. "Harold, my old man," Kiser said. Harold's wife had been Kiser's aunt, of sorts. She'd been a good friend of his mother's and a family friend. Family friends to Weres were as good as family and they protected those people with their very lives. That was both a strength and weakness when it came to Weres, they were incredibly loyal, especially to family. When Harold's wife and Kiser's aunt had died of a brain tumour, the Burntwood clan - yeah, don't laugh - had mourned for months. Harold was a bit of a kink in the head. It was as if he'd been a stuffed pillowcase and when his wife and son had passed away, the seams that held his stuffing together had come undone. Still, Harold was a good man and more importantly, did not like the Fey.

"I need a favour," he said without pause. "I need you to find out all you can about the Fey. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm in the IPAF but they're hiding things from us," he whispered before correcting himself. "From us. They keep the Fey they capture, Harold, and they put them in these suspicious laboratories. I mean, I've always known about them and they tell us it's for 'the study of how to defeat the Fey' but that sounds like a load of bull. Iron and/or decapitate. How simple is that? But, no, see, there was this creepy scythe-wielding Faerie and he smelled like power, Harold. He reeked of power. Not the normal immortal Vampire stink but I mean, he smelled weird. Different from the other Fey I've fought." Kiser was speaking fast and more than he normally did but the adrenaline pumping through his veins urged him to continue.

"That's where you come in. You're not with the IPAF, you have nothing better to do and you hate the Fey. We're next to the Grill House. That's 1991 Bronxdale Avenue. Tell me what you know. Call me, in a completely non-homosexual way. I'm just not into that, grandpa," Kiser joked before ending the call without waiting for Harold's reply. The Werelion walked towards the car, the icy winds throwing his hair about his face. The blizzard seemed to be getting worse and...

"Why, Rorgen. Why would you drive such a nice car in the middle of a blizzard." Kiser frowned at the limp figure in the backseat and at the colourful blood that spilled from the boy. Its perfection was irritating, as always. "That's going to be a sucker to clean." The Werelion slipped into the passenger seat beside his fellow Were, taking Rorgen's hand in his in the way Weres often greeted one another: by crushing each other's fingers. Kiser clenched his close friend's hand, a competition to see who could crack who's hand first. Kiser grinned, his teeth so white, it was nearly blinding. "At least it's not my car."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias Character Portrait: Rorgen Avulstein
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His body lied at the back of a car; bloodied, bruised and broken. Stray magic continued to work at his wounds on instinct, back up generators to insure that he would not die so easily. The process was slow - melting skin, pulling muscles, even as several minutes past there was hardly any progress in improving his physical well being. If anything nothing but the bleeding had nearly been made to slow to a stop. Still, drops of red blood continued to drop from his body, his mouth, and into small pools of green and yellow.

Words passed around him, eyes viewing him as nothing more than a captured, enemy solider. None of this reached him, who's body was cold, with skin turning dark blue, his glamour fading barely enough to have his skin appear as if was being covered in hemorrhages. Shallow breathes hardly moved his chest, and if he were human, he would be on his death bad. However, his body still held a pulse, and life within. Praxis would live on, long enough to face the consequences of foolish actions, and to look into the faces of wolves.

There was no color, no rainbow water droplets, no whites and no blacks. There was only the pickling feeling of being numb, nothing to feel, nothing to see, and nothing to think. Unconsciousness wrapped around him, simultaneously lasting forever and not taking place at all. This would be one of the few moments where Praxis was not aware of his surroundings, letting time escape him without notice, rest falling upon his body without his mind continuing to turn away. However, this too shall pass, as he was never destined to repose for long. Soon the thick steel bars would erode away, being chipped by the voice of youth and innocence, reverberating against his soul until his eyes opened into the subconscious world.

He was home. A shuttering breath shook his frame when it dawned on him that it wasn't really his home, but a memory of it. Traces of familiar places in a make believe world, filled in by lingering thoughts and broken crayons. Even so, with this knowledge, he couldn't prevent his lips from stretching into a mournful smile. If only he had died and this was his resting place, instead it would be erased as well, and replaced with bitter reality. Lethe moved forward, stepping onto gemstone shaded plants, letting the voice of nectar lead him down the realm of another's wishes. There was no other life here, no traces of inhabitation, except for the footprints he left behind him. Fingers traced over the leaves, coming in sizes smaller than a pin head to larger than his own head, and eerie serenity was reflected in the orbs of his eyes.

In slow motion, white began to taint the world that was a recreation of his home. He stood, shoulders back, in his natural form. Dark shades of blue and teal soaked into his skin, the sight of chaos and parent souls. Hands with long, arching fingers cupped in front of him, capture the speckles that dare infiltrate the land around him. The snow was like dried paint; the dust from the ceiling of a dream, blowing in from the real world into a false one. His eyes closed, lashes long and glowing dim light. Oh, how the light inside of him was ever so dim. Nightmare's eyes had never been so dark before, even his hair had lost it's sheen, making him appear as if he was washed in dirty water. He figured that his lungs had been filled with this type of putrid water as well, so horribly polluted that any attempts to clean his slate would be in vain, and he wouldn't raise a finger with the idea of attempting to do so in mind.

A figure stepped away from the trees and appeared before him and his breathing ceased, he was not alone.
"My Queen.." His words were like shattering glass, loud against the rocks of moon spirits, yet broken and strained, hiding quiet turmoil within. Praxis could only blink, frozen in place, not unlike the world around him. She looked the same, she looked differed, she was the same face that graced the corners of his eyes, and yet she had the face of a stranger. This was the Queen, but it was not the Queen; a paradox that put a bitter taste in his mouth, the flavor of fear, worry and regret. Had she slipped from between his fingers, like grains of sand that could be picked up? Or was she water, that splattered against marble and evaporated into the air, to be forever lost to him? A shutter ran throughout his body, and his legs moved forward without his consent.

Yet he couldn't get close enough, couldn't reach towards her, couldn't let his fingers brush against her skin. Instead he was held back by chains, invisible but real, wreaking of hesitation and cowardice. Hands at his sides, eyes bearing into hers, seeking for shards of the Queen he knew. Nothing, there was nothing, and it dawned on him that even if she was gone, he wouldn't abandon her. The look of foreboding remained on his face, though now he wore a smile, lips twisted upwards thanks to diamond carved loyalty.

"Oh, my Queen." If they had to, they would start anew, because even if the Queen was born again he wouldn't leave her side. If she decided to abandon order and destroy the world, he would stand beside her, and rip apart space and time with her. Or, he paused, would he destroy her, to protect the image his eyes had seen the first time they opened, to protect the order that was embroidered into her name? No, he pushed the thought away, that was preposterous. "So we are just now meeting again? It's been too long." The woman standing three feet away from him may be a new face, but she was still the Queen, his Queen, right?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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Azriel smiled lightly at the girl as she asked the most logical question she possibly could have. The problem was there was no answer because he did not know. For centuries he had been mostly alone, not out of anything more than wanting it to be that way. He has floated through life focusing on nothing but improving himself, his skills, his abilities. He had never spent much time on his personal life, spending more time on learning etiquette and courting skills but never actually applying them to anyone he had real interest in. He had spent many years manipulating people with his skills and becoming an expert in getting in and out of places at all cost to take out his marks. This never left much time for love. The soft touch brought him out of his mind with a start, he expertly choked back the reflex to impale the offender on the spot. He stood gracefully, his eyes locked onto the woman's own as she comments on their oddity. The question had sounded to him as more of an observation instead of an honest question and as such he would leave it unanswered. He took note of her attempt to copy his accent and smirked with amusement. It was an attempt to find some sense of normalcy, a natural reaction that was fully expected and encouraged. The faster she figured out what wasn't normal for her the sooner her memory would come back.

He watched her move appearing like a dancer in full costume yet only having his coat and a cloak for cloths. That was a detail that had bothered him since he met her. No human, even a dancer could move like that without effort and yet here she was, this mystery born from ice and snow. He could feel her blood and there was something there that he couldn't place, she was human but...not somehow. Maybe that was why he was so interested in this lost girl, the not knowing was something he wasn't used to. After you live for so many hundreds of years you get to a point where you know so much that nothing surprises you. This girl was different, every second he spent with her was a new surprise, a new adventure. He smiled lightly on the thought just about the time she has trouble with the door, it didn't take long however for her to read the handle and figure it out. Nodding to him as if she was about to breach and clear a room he let out a light chuckle just as she throws the door open. He followed closely behind her into the building, and stayed just a few steps behind her as they went up the steps. One of the men that lived in the building was coming down and eyeing the girl, but not for long as he caught Azriel's eye that held death for the man if he continued his train of thought. The man instantly lowers his head and pretended he couldn't see them as he passes by as quickly as possible.

As they found themselves inside his apartment the girl rushed in before him just after he unlocked the door. He shook his head lightly at her eager curiosity. He on the other hand took his time at the door to make sure it is securely locked, taking his shoes off and neatening things up before moving into the apartment. She was right about one thing, he did live in a box. The apartment was not decorated at all. One of his walls was covered from floor to ceiling in book shelves, completely covered with novels and informational texts, the small kitchen had a fully stocked fridge. Azriel kept a full stock of human food for two reasons. One he enjoyed the taste from time to time, two he did entertain humans on occasion. Usually some link in the chain needed to get close enough to his marks. He even knew how to cook at an expert level, flavor being something of a hobby for him. His eyes got lost in her spinning as he watched her explore her surroundings then finally find her way to the bedroom, it was likely the most decorated room in his apartment. A strategic placement to make people more comfortable in his home and with him when they where in his room. He had no need for sleep so the bed was an addition specifically for the people he needed to coerce. Luckily for this girl the room was something he had spent a lot of money and time perfecting. The bed was made of fine fabric, the sheets and blankets made of fine silk as where the pillow cases. "You shouldn't sleep in your wet..." The rhythm of her heart and breath changed as she fell asleep and he shook his head again. He got the feeling he would be taking care of this girl much like he had his younger sister when she was alive, the thought brought back memories of his sister. A torture he had been forced to go through so many times that most would go mad. The blood that he had been saving moved out of his sleeves and onto the bed, rolled under the bed silently and without causing a disturbance. He closed his eyes making the images of his sister all the more vivid but allowing him to see feel through the controlled blood well enough to use it to remove the wet cloths without disturbing the girl within. He controlled the blood perfectly so she almost didn't move during the process and it did not mark the dress in any way.

As the dress made its way out of the bed Azriel's mind began to wander to his memories, reflexively repeating the process for the cloak and coat the girl had jumped into bed with.

His sister was only ten when his parents died of sickness, he was fourteen and considered old enough to be a man. His sister was crying against his chest as he held her, the realization that it would be his job to take care of her for the rest of his life just now starting to settle in. The doctor's voice droned lightly in the background, having become irrelevant the moment he had conveyed the death of his mother. His father had died a few years earlier at war, it had been just his sister and his mother for as long as he could remember. Now it was just his sister with him to lead her now. As the doctor turned to leave he extended his condolences, an empty gesture that wouldn't bring his parents back. He slipped his arm under his sister's legs and lifted her easily, his body strengthened from years of playing warrior with his friends. His face was suddenly hardened and emotionless as his sister cried without stop. He would set her gently into her own bed and lay next to her, knowing full well she wouldn't sleep at all if he left her tonight. After she finally cried herself to sleep he takes to removing her shoes and day cloths, changing her into her pajama's. He would then lay next to her and stare at the ceiling all night, waiting for sleep and never getting it. His sister would wake every so often only to cuddle closer to her brother and fall asleep again. He was hoping he was already asleep and was simply going to wake from it in a few minutes. He knew better however as his mother had been sick for a long time and this had been in the back of their mind the whole time. A few hours before his sister would wake up he would get up and make them breakfast, bringing it to her room so they could spend the day in bed. No one would be bothering them the coming day as everyone they knew wouldn't know what happened until the day after.

He quietly moved to a small walk in closet off to one side, silently slide the door open before he began digging through its contents. He pulled out a large shirt that would act as a dress for this girl until he could get her clean cloths. He turned back to the girl and gently set the cloths on the pillow next to her where his blood extension picked them up and began gently coaxing her into them. She would wake up in one of his shirts, a fact that she would hopefully ask him about before freaking out. The dress, cloak and coat all found their way to Azriel via his blood ability. He lifted them gently and sighed soundlessly as the memory of his sister faded. His eyes now opened to look at the fully covered form of the lost angel that had found her confused way into his life, or at least what most would call a life. He turned and left the room. He wanted to make sure she would be safe, normally he didn't need to worry because he was awake all night anyway. Now however he had someone that needed his protection, and for whatever reason he was compelled to give it. He looked to be sure the door was locked again. He knew his windows where safe because they did not open, they where solid glass panes that looked over the city. The shades in the bed room where drawn shut as usual. A habit he got in when having guests over. He turned the dress about in his hand, having never felt fabric like this he was not completely sure how best to clean it. For now he decided it would be best to simply dry them.

Now he had her size and would shortly go across the street to the dress shop owned by a local old man. It would only take him a few moments to return with a new dress in her size. He hung the dress on a hook mounted to the inside of the bedroom door for her to find in the morning. Tonight he would spend the night as he always did, reading by the small fireplace and listening to whatever music struck him. He kept the music much quieter tonight however to be sure not to disturb the girl in the other room. Early that morning he would start to prepare a well cooked breakfast for the girl before she woke up. With all the stress she would be sure to be famished by the time she awoke. He felt like a classic mood so he prepared french toast, bacon, sausage and eggs. A simple breakfast but it never seemed to get old flavor wise. He made sure to have syrup ready in case she wanted some. For some reason he always felt at peace when in a kitchen no matter what he was making, add to that having something..or rather someone to think about for once and he could be said to be having fun. The shadows of a smile began to form on his mouth since no one was looking.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Rorgen Avulstein
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#, as written by Layla

"Oh, my Queen."

Raindrops spilling from crimson skies to shatter into diamonds, water morphing into beautifully horrific goblins, emerald stars leaping from waterfalls of milk, dust gathering into a whirlwind of unicorns dancing widdershins, a creature with skin of starlight and sapphire -him. The images stumbled over one another, each racing towards the forefront of her mind, demanding attention. The High Queen gasped, her draw of air interrupting the melted sugar of her voice as the places came unbidden to her mind. Her clarity was not to last, however, as her lips melted into a guileless smile and her eyes softened into one of bewilderment.

"So we are just now meeting again? It's been too long," the blue-skinned boy said. He was not one she knew, was he? He danced along the edges of her memory like a familiar song one did not know the name of. Order circled the peculiar creature before her, stepping upon her toes in a soundless, spinning waltz. The boy's voice sounded as if it were supposed to be ordinary, but was not, instead being perfect in ways she could not explain and did not care to think of. It was as if she was a child who would only be willing to play with a toy for as long as it entertained her, which was not for long.

"We have met?" she asked, her gaze following her slim fingers as they trailed their way down the curves of his back. "Trapezius, infraspinatus, teres, latissimus dorsi," she stated the names of each muscle group she touched. The words seemed to have been spoken without thought, as if she were a machine that knew of facts but not of human emotions and was merely doing as a press of a button told her to do. The boy's skin did not feel like skin, rather like water or silk or stone or all and nothing. The minuscule bones of his wings tangled in a complex web of frailty, but somehow, the girl knew they were anything but frail, being capable of carrying more than this creature's weight.

"So perfectly flawed, so gruesome in your beauty. Do your lips curve into a kind smile or is it mischievous?" she echoed the words she'd once spoken before - when time had first begun - when she was whole, when she was the fearsome High Queen. Now the words were a sicking reminiscence of her once-greatness. Praxis' lips were unnaturally soft against her touch as she ran her fingers along his lower lip. His eyes were eerie, two ghosts in the midst of an empty night. Light seeped from his orbs, but she felt that they were dimmed, somewhat, as if he was only half of what he was meant to be.

And she spoke the words that would shatter the world. "Who are you?"

ImageThe landscape shifted, warping and evaporating around them as they stood still, until it held none of the serene calm it had moments prior. The trees glowed a threatening neon, scattering the darkness in a mocking semblance of light. Monstrous beasts stalked the woods around them, slithering along the thin branches of the trees. The Queen and her second were mere spots in the world she'd created in her mind.

"Who am I?" she whimpered, her irises a grey like fog and storm as the anxiety threw her rationale disarray. She clutched her breast, as if in doing so she would be able to reach into her chest and clench her beating heart and somehow end the suffocating agony of it all. "Where am I? Why am I here?" she asked and the beasts growled and howled, their limbs creeping forward, closer to the fear and torment they sniffed from the thick air.

"The Quueeeenn," they hissed. "Ssshe'sss awake. Play with usss, Order." Their mutated words were followed by tyrannical cackles. The Queen's eyes darted around in panic as she took a frightened step back, then another and another until she was between the trees. She gave the blue-skinned boy one last glance before she spun around and ran away, deep into the depths of the tangles of her lost mind.

"Where am I?" she whimpered in her sleep, twisting and turning and tangling herself in the sheets before throwing the soft blanket off of the bed. Beads of sweat slipped into her closed eyes, her lashes fluttering as she struggled with whatever it was she was dreaming of. Her face was warped in fear as she clutched the pillows, moaning and ripping at invisible creatures. She was panting, her fear almost palpable in the air.

"Help me, help me," she begged.

The branches slapped against her flesh, tearing at her body and shredding her dress. Her bare feet pounded against the dead leaves of the woods as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide with fear. Her exhalations could be seen in the air as she panted, shoving aside branches as she fought for escape. The dark creatures behind her chased relentlessly, their vengeful laughs stalking her as they did. It was a game of cat and mouse and she was the latter.


"You should learn to give up, Rorgen," Kiser joked, crushing his Were friend's hand, his grin refusing to falter as his bones did. Thankfully, as did Rorgen's. The Werewolf's fingers snapped and healed at a rapid pace, only to be broken once again.

"You smell like death," Rorgen said. "What happened?"

"Saw a lot of death," the Werelion said, refusing to end the 'handshake.' "Lab 86B was infiltrated by some UFA's." UFA was the way Kiser liked to refer to the Fey and what they should've been called all along: Unidentified Flying Asses. "A dozen of our people died," he said in a voice that was quieter than normal.

“Kiser," Leau said. Her superior raised a thick brow, finally letting go of his friend's hand. "Can you describe what this Fey with a scythe looked like…?”

"If you'd not destroyed your communicator, you would know," he said tersely but answered her question, anyway. "Deceivingly good looking," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Tall. 6'5" or thereabouts. Buff. Creepy." Kiser watched the Fey closely, observing her every fraction of movement and noting the scent of her. He could smell fear from a mile away and she certainly tasted afraid, which was odd, seeing as this was Leau he was sniffing. She'd spit death in the eye if she ever met him. "Why? You know him?"


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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Azriel gave pause to his reading as he heard the commotion in the other room, he let it go on for a few seconds before he got up and moved to the door to his bedroom. He peeked his head in only to find her tossing and turning. Running like a pup having a nightmare. His mind wandered back to his sister as he stepped into the room silently and toward the bed. He looked down at the girl as he tried to decide just how close they where, just how much comfort he could give before the girl would take it the wrong way. As she fussed and ran in her sleep something finally broke in Azriel's mind. He couldn't let her suffer all night, he wouldn't let his sister and he wasn't about to let this girl. In a fluid motion he found himself on a side of the bed the girl had just rolled away from. He sat carefully next to her and gently began to run his hand through her hair "Calmati bambino. È sicura" (Calm down child. It is safe) His voice was gentle and comforting, promising a safe haven from any nightmares that might plague her. He sat with his back against the head board so she could move as she wished and he would still be able to smooth her hair and speak to her gently. The low rumble in his voice added even more to his natural comforting effect. The motion his hands made was so practiced that if he ever did find a tangle, it would disappear before the girl would feel any tugging. It was something he expected to find as he did in all hair but not this time. This time was different, her hair didn't tangle.

He hadn't realized just how soft her hair was. Each strand was like silk, sliding against each other with little to no friction. It gave her hair a look of perfection that he didn't think was possible. It made it look like he was running his hands through white water instead of strands of hair. He had never really looked at this girls features until now, in many ways Raena reminded him of his sister, but in many others she was much more....for lack of a better word... perfect. Azriel had been pondering over this fact for a while now. In his experience only the Fae approached the looks of this girl and yet here she was, human and closer to perfect than any human had ever come. Artistically the woman was the template for what every artist looked for in a model. How could a mere human personify beauty in this way without some supernatural aid. It was a puzzle he couldn't figure out, but he trusted his senses as they have kept him alive so far.

After a few moments when she calmed lightly he would begin to sing (, quietly at first so as to not disturb her slumber. His octave slowly raising to a level that a person could still sleep through. His voice was deep and rhythmic enough that it would only help to further her sleep efforts. She had a lifeline however should she wish to wake up. His hand in her hair and expertly weaved its way through her perfect curls to the end. The pace never changed, nor did the pressure. This would cause an effect in any dream that could lead one out of their dreams if they wished it. The mind wouldn't be able to make up an excuse for the motion, so gentle and rhythmic. Tree branches getting caught in her hair would be random and sharp. This motion was meant to be two fold, comforting enough to keep her asleep should they want, but steady and gentle enough for it to be an anchor should she want to escape her dreams. His voice held a subconscious force to it, meant to show her the way to safety in her own mind. He had done this hundreds of times for his little sister when she had nightmares. His need to care for this mystical girl seems to stem strongly from his sister some how, as if he felt as if this woman was some how a part of him... or his family.

As he sat stroking the girls hair he let his mind wander to past loves, people who had meant enough to him for him to do this for them. One girl stuck out in his mind. She had witnessed great horrors in the past. War and slaughter and killing. The images haunted her dreams and would often wake her with a horrid start in the middle of the night. Azriel had learned quickly how the girl's hair was a conduit into her dreaming mind. How a simple brushing touch could both put to sleep and wake up at the will of the person being taken care of. He had gotten so good at it that the woman found she had trouble sleeping without him there to comfort her. In his care the dreams would go away, in his care her sleep went uninterrupted. This woman was the last woman Azriel had ever loved. They had been happy together, every day being a new adventure, a new story. They would go to amusement parks and circus' as often as their lives allowed always coming home with a new inside joke. That all ended the day she realized Azriel hadn't aged a day since they had met. She was sixty two by then and fear overcame her memories of their good life. She accused him of being a demon and refused him. He stayed with her till she died of old age, hiding in the shadows and taking care of her without her knowing he existed. He understood her reaction, as no human fully understood what he was and any information they did have came from horror stories. He loved her though so he couldn't bring himself to leave the sixty two year old woman alone to age without love. Some days he could swear she knew he was there, acting as if she didn't simply so she could be with him. On her death bed he kissed her gently just before she passed, a smile and a tear being the only response he received. She had stilled loved him to the end, she just couldn't express it without fear until that moment. Love became foreign to Azriel on that night, his faith in love being buried with the one he had given himself to. He looked upon the topic as an abstract thought that took all together too much time to think about to even be worth contemplating. One might say his heart iced over on that day and has shown no sign of melting since.


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe
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The water did not soak into his skin nor did it dampen his hair. Instead the droplets rolled of his gemstone shoulders, shattering onto the ground beneath him. Eyelashes rose upwards, heart breaking into pieces like the rain, bursting in uncountable shards that he could never collect. He couldn't manage breathing, and no words were formed from spiderweb vocal cords as she traced his body with delicate fingers. She didn't remember him, had no knowledge that it was him that stayed by her side since she had created him. This woman was ignorant to the fact that would lay down and bleed out for her, and it cut into his skin. She didn't know that he was hers, and that nobody else held the keys to these shackles on his wings. He was the face of a stranger, hardly existing at all, a fleeting particle of dust in front of crystallized beauty.

Parted lips and shutter breath, the dream shifted, painted over in harsh acrylics by wistful artists. Monsters stalked them in the dead of the false night, eerie wind piercing through his eardrums and infecting him, becoming the marrow within his bones. Praxis wanted to fall, grieve for the loss of his Queen; his presumptions and theories correct and treacherous. There was no time for displays of sorrow though. Now he could fly away. If he wished he could abandon her and shake off the hold she once had around his neck, forcing noble fingernails that pressed gently around his neck to be no more. If he acted on these options, he could stand beside Aerunia instead, sacrificing himself and living for only her.

Eyes of predators blinked through the smog of his exhale. "Who am I?" Fear, it was carved into her brow. "Where am I? Why am I here?" Confusion, it was written in the pull of her lips. Those thoughts of his were foolish, he could never leave the Queen, without her he might as well waste away and become the dust in the air. She ran, legs taking her far away from the world of discord and malice, to vainly get away from her subconscious. She wasn't in her right mind, but he would help her, as he always did, and that would never change.

His wings glowed dimly in the dark, the nightmares not paying him any mind, for he wasn't of their world. The appendages on his back swayed in the cold wind, and moved. They did not pull him off the ground, instead they wrapped around him, covering his body in light and then shadows, shrouding his body as the area around him vanished into a new scene. This was a dream, he had no need to run after her. This universe centered around her, and without her in it, it would cease to exist. She was the candle flame, lightening up corridors, and those that were drowned in black became no more.

"My Queen." His voice was the whisper that interrupted the scene, wings spreading apart and glowing with brilliant, blinding light. Her light, the power and life she had given to him all of those countless years ago. His smile was bittersweet, facial language kind, and shoulders relaxed. "It's okay, you're safe now." He approached the terrified God, placing his hands on her shoulder, rubbing his fingers in ginger circles. "My name is Praxis Lethe, and you are Raena. I am here to help you see again." His hand covered those eyes, blocking out the villains that plagued her."I am your puppet, and you are a hypnotist, the master of all that is just. You only have to breath in what you had forgotten." His voice only grew quieter, hushed words brushing against the rims of her ears, standing frozen in a world of imagination.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias Character Portrait: Alistair D. James Character Portrait: Jenson Xion Character Portrait: Rorgen Avulstein
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#, as written by Layla

"What do you do for me Kiser?”

Well, well. Kiser would admit, Anastasia's fit was rather... Unexpected. Yet, strangely arousing. Leaning back against the car seat, Kiser propped his legs on the dashboard, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb and then pressing them against Anastasia's mouth. "Sorry about my disobedience and all that jazz. It's not like I'm a wild lion or anything," he said, pressing his lips together and failing in his attempt to not grin. "In my defence, I do a lot for you. Satisfying all your sexy needs 24/7," he said with a bark of laughter. God, Ana was fun to mess with.

"Cut him some slack. He's just seen our friends die and Kiser would never betray you," the Werewolf beside him said. Huh, Kiser thought. Coming to my defence? He didn't realise their brotherly bond extended so far; it was cute. "C'mon, I can't wait to start a 'killin already. We can talk more on the way, alrite?"

"God, more killing?" Kiser cracked his knuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "You'd think I'd seen enough death to last an hour." The Werelion lifted his arm, looking at the black and iron laid watch encircling his wrist. "Hour's up. Let's start killin'," he said, beaming at Rorgen. He loved the guy when he wasn't being a moral killjoy.

He stared at the roof of the car as Leau and Anastasia continued to talk and bicker, his long limbs combined with Rorgen's filling much of the vehicle. A certain line stood in contrast. "He goes by the name of Capricorn... He's the King's second in command."

"Wait, king? What king?" Kiser asked, sitting upright and staring intently at Leau. "Great, the Faeries have a monarchy now?"

"Leau... I'm sorry. But you are asking me to risk not only your life and mine, but Kiser's and everyone else associated with us. We can not hide this Fey from the IPAF, the risk is far to great." Hide things from the IPAF? Kiser frowned, wondering what Ana hid for surely, she hid things from them. Say something, Leau.

"Understood, Ma'am." That was it? 'Understood, ma'am?'

"We bett-" he began.

"The mail has been delivered," a familiar voice vibrated from his earpiece.

"Dunkelzahn," he called Zahn by her full name. "You're not dead," he mused. He had to admit, he was impressed. Zahn was difficult and her life could easily be named 'Taming of the Shrew,' okay, minus the taming, but she did her job well. "Great. We won't have lesbian body parts to clean up," he joked. He sucked at jokes. Kiser tapped his earpiece, adding Alistair and Jenson to the call. "Meet us in the IPAF headquarters. Ana's big bad office." Kiser slapped Rorgen's steering wheel, throwing Leau and Anastasia a look. "We're not exactly in the best place to talk."

A hooded figure stood in the shadows, his presence invisible to all.

Minutes later, the group of IPAF operatives stood behind Hotel Pennsylvania. The building loomed overhead, its old structure abnormal in the midst of contemporary, newer buildings; it was one of the few structures that remained untouched after the Technological Revolution of 1914. Kiser felt the bricks of the wall, running his coarse fingers along the bumpy surface. "There," he whispered to himself. He tapped on a brick thrice, the slightly paler, newer colour of it imperceptible unless one knew what to look for.

There was a stillness, followed by a soft ticking as if within the brick was an atomic bomb. The brick shifted backwards with a groan, leaving a scanner in its place. Kiser grinned, pressing his palm to the sleek glass just as two lasers beamed into his forest green eyes. "Authentication successful. Welcome, Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood," a computerised voice said. The scanner turned green before disappearing, the brick that was there taking its place. Kiser grinned at his comrades - he'd never get over IPAF's technology - as a section of the wall in the shape of a door moved backwards into the darkness, revealing an elevator with iron gates in its place. Kiser stepped in.

"Come on, we don't have all day," he said to the IPAF agents.

28.43 seconds was how long it took for the elevator to arrive at the IPAF headquarters deep underground. Agents bustled about, a few robots scattered about, running errands and processing information human, Were and Vampire minds could not. The iron furnishings and structures drenched the headquarters in a metallic scent. Men and women slapped both sides of their chests and then their foreheads in greeting as Anastasia passed them by. It was the worst salute in all of Earth's history, but it appeared IPAF's creator had run out of imagination. Kiser chuckled at the greeting, returning it with a mock salute.


ImageSoft hands grasped her shoulders, a hand caressed her hair, easing the pressure of the ceiling as it pressed down on her mind, tampering her light. She was no longer running and now, instead, the crumpled to the ground, her fingers tangling themselves with the leaves - the pillow. "My name is Praxis Lethe, and you are Raena," the mesmerising creature said. The dream shifted, the beasts evaporating into the depths of her mind, leaving a throne room in its place. A domed roof that seemed to be as high as the clouds was only overshadowed by a throne of glass, crystal and light. Silver sunlight streamed in from the opaque walls, scattering the light and creating a kaleidoscope of colours as it was fractured by the multi-faceted crystals that made the Throne of the High Queen.

"I am here to help you see again."

The strands that made Order's tattered dress began to unwind, replaced by a dress with cloth made of sapphire and amethyst liquid. Her eyes sieved through an endless stream of colours - some of Earth and others of the Faerie Realms - at the speed of light. Her white hair bled into silver as it grew, lengthening till it touched the floors made of crystal and clouds.

"I am your puppet, and you are a hypnotist, the master of all that is just. You only have to breathe in what you had forgotten." A blue shadow began to form before the throne, struggling to seep through her subconscious. Remember.

Raena awoke with a start, nearly smacking her head against Azriel's. She breathed heavily, her eyes darting around the room in search of... Something. She looked at Azriel, her eyes wide as she edged closer to him, pressing one palm to her chest and the other to his. "I dreamed," she whispered. "It was important." But she could not, for the life of her, remember it with any semblance of clarity. All she knew was- "I am Raena. You may refer to me as such, although 'My Queen' is preferred."

The world's creator crawled over Azriel to lean against his back between his legs, oblivious to her change of clothing and the lack of distance between her and the stranger. The Fey were not built to be uncomfortable with closeness and touch. "You will comb my hair," she demanded. Her eyes searched his room; she jumped off his bed without warning, racing towards the end of a blue shirt that was wedged between his closet doors. Raena threw the door open, snatching the shirt off its hanger and pressing it to her chest. Her long, ivory legs was clearly visible through Azriel's shirt as she jumped and ran on the spot. Praxis.

"We must find him," she said frantically, running towards the window and throwing open the curtains. The light stretched towards her, seeping into her skin as if it begging for her loving touch. Raena threw open the window, swing a slim leg over the frame as if to climb out. "We must go."


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Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn
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Moments before the girl in his arms awoke her heart's rhythm changed to that of a waking human. He shifted his head calmly moments before she popped up, purposely only leaving a few centimeters between her head and his own as she moved up quickly. His hand slide gently out of her hair just before so as to keep from snagging it as she moved. Her sudden motion was not a surprise to him, and neither where her words. People of all races dealt with mental trauma through dreams, often finding answers their waking mind couldn't provide. He now had a name for her, Raena, it was a beautiful name for sure. Given her looks, he was not surprised her name fit her beauty and was somewhat happy that it did. The name seemed some how familiar to him, but in all his years he had never met anyone with that name. It was a puzzle to be sure, but one that would have to wait for now the excitable mental case had a small demand for him. He smirked lightly as her personality began to show. She acted as a royal, from asking to be called 'My Queen' to the demand of him to comb her hair. He did not mind it however, it was a practice he used to do for his sister and some small part of him missed the action.

No sooner had the blood comb formed in his hand than the chaotic girl jumped up and ran to his closet only to snatch up one of his blue shirts and do a pee pee dance. His head tilted slightly as if waiting to see what thought compelled her to need his shirt all of a sudden, idly thinking she would likely want pants over a shirt. As she spoke he looked at her curiously, she had not spoken a name. Her only statement was they needed to find 'him'. Finding people was something of a specialty of the age old assassin so whoever it was, he was sure he would be able to find them. The trouble was he couldn't express that fact before she rushed to the window and threw it open. This caused a red flag in Azriel's mind. In a flash he was behind the girl who called herself queen, both of his strong arms wrapped around her waist protectively, careful not to hurt her "Calm yourself Raena." His low rumble of a voice coming across as full of calm wisdom. "Haste breeds nothing but chaos. First gather information then decide on action." He had the small girl held tightly enough that there was little chance of escape but not so tight that she would feel threatened. In this position he felt he had plenty of time to speak to her so he continued "For instance, we know without cloths you will freeze to death outside." As if to emphasize that point a bitter cold wind blew through the window over the queen's nearly naked form. "On top of that, we are on the third floor. A jump from this height would kill you. I also do not know who we are looking for. Nor do we know where to look. Rushing into this massive city filled with people with no idea where to look for your friend would cause nothing but a cold, tired, hungry girl lost in a city she knows nothing about." He paused a moment to let her remember what world she was in, her dreams having likely caused her to forget the cold wet night before in the massively crowded city temporarily. After a moment he would continue. "Take a breath... calm yourself...." He waits a moment for her to do so before continuing "Now let us feed you and discuss your dream and this person you wish to find. We will find him more quickly through organized thought than chaotic searching." His voice took on that of an older brother trying to impart wisdom on his younger sister. A modern day person would accuse him of sounding a little like a Jedi. He had laughed rather heavily the first time someone made that comparison, having just recently seen the second in the series in theater.

Holding Raena in his arms like he was felt some how... right. She fit in his arms perfectly and there was an unspoken familiarity with this girl he had just met. It was a little unnerving for him simply because he had not let himself get close to anyone in over four hundred years. Then this ball of chaos and lost memory wandered into his life and there he was holding her in front of a window dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. A scenario he would never have expected to happen in a matter of a few hours of knowing a woman without the use of hypnosis or alcohol. He knew full well there was no romance between them, but there was a familiarity there. Almost as if being by her side was some how the right place to be. Describing it openly would be too near the impossible, it did warrant noting in the back of his mind however. Simply because it seemed to effect his comfort level around this mysterious girl.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orpheus Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Praxis Lethe Character Portrait: Leau Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Anastasia Varias Character Portrait: Alistair D. James Character Portrait: Yuki Character Portrait: Rorgen Avulstein Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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#, as written by Layla

"Calm yourself, Raena," the man reasoned, his firm grip around her. Raena stuck out her lower lip and puffed out her cheeks, frowning unhappily as he continued to lecture her on her lack of orderly conduct. Somewhere along the second line, she'd pressed her palms to her ears and proceeded to shut her eyes and hum and lalalala. Gosh, he was no fun! Why did they have to take all these silly steps to do one simple task? She didn't understand and didn't want to. All she knew was - "I want my blue bunny!" she whined, crossing her arms over her chest and gruffly allowing Azriel to lift her down onto the ground, remaining perfectly still and begrudgingly unwilling as he did.

A few long moments passed before she stretched out her arms, reaching towards the Vampire as she tilted her head upwards as a spoiled and angry princess would. "You will carry me!" Raena wrapped her willowy arms around the man's neck, letting him tuck one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. "You are not amusing," she huffed as the kitchen came into view and she was set on her feet. "This is a ghastly room," she complained, roving the walls and its attached equipment with her eyes. She'd never been in a kitchen in all of her eternal life.

Raena circled the counter in the centre, arms crossed as she observed the rare mechanisms that decorated the shelves and tables that were... Attached to the wall? Raena looked at the gold-eyed creature over her shoulder, clasping her hands behind her back. His shirt hung loose over her slim frame, slipping over one shoulder to reveal soft ivory skin. "You are a Witch, of sorts? Is this your.... Cauldron?" she mused, running a finger along the rim of a cooking pot. "What is your name, CPR?" she asked, calling him by one of the first words she'd heard him speak.

She walked on the tips of her toes, looking as if she barely touched the ground. Raena stood before the refrigerator, examining the miniature 'door' closely. "Open," she commanded it. It remained closed. "Open," she repeated with a hint of frustration and puzzlement. Annoyed, she gripped the handle and pulled it hard towards her. A gust of cold wind tore at her skin as she yelped, jumping backwards onto the counter and crawling further back. "What sorcery is this?!" she exclaimed, gawking at the blobs within. After a few moments, she narrowed her eyes, inching closer to the refrigerator, lying in a frog-like position on the counter. The blobs were... "Food." Raena parted her lips in shock. "Your foods do not fly or glow! Are they unwell?"


Anastasia was amusing. As in, genuinely and absolutely amusing in an almost hilarious sort of way. "God, you're cute," he said under his breath, giving her a dashing smile. "Well, I know nothing that you don't tell me so see you tonight," he teased. "Ciao, guys." Kiser pressed two fingers to his forehead and jerked them outwards in a salute. Without a minute's pause in case someone tried to stop him, Kiser walked out, slapping Alistair on the back as he left.

When he was far enough from the group, he dropped the smirk, his face a mask of boredom and the lack of expression. God, keeping up the act was getting tiring. He had better things to do than hang around with NYC's IPAF operatives. He could've spent the time eating steaks and god, he didn't know, painting his nails. He walked down a maze of corridors to the containment facilities. He pressed his card to a scanner on a wall, there looked to be no doors but oh, there was. "Voice confirmation, please," an electronic voice spoke.

"I'm a sexy beast," Kiser said, chuckling at his own joke.

"Authentication verified. Welcome, Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood. Rank-"

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough. Let me in," he said, just as the wall slid open to reveal a hidden door. Kiser looked down both ends of the hallway before stepping in, the door behind him sliding shut. The hallway before him was brightly lit, both sides made entirely of glass. Kiser walked down the hall, paying the Fey that were within the rooms no head. Each Faerie was strapped in iron to what looked like an operating table, a dome of special glass covering their bodies. With their eerie beauty and frozen shut eyelids, it looked like some creepy adaption of Snow White. Their containers were filled with a transparent, thick liquid that would keep them unconscious and immobile but alive. It also healed all Fey wounds, something he supposed was a good thing.

This was the place he'd brought the Fey Rorgen and Leau had captured. "Room 600," he whispered to himself, standing before a glass door and observing the unconscious, blue skinned Fey within. A sensor picked up on Kiser's presence and a square of light appeared in the centre of the glass door. There was no sound as Kiser pressed his palm into the square of light and as the glass panel slid open without so much as disrupting the air around it. Kiser stepped into the room, the glass door closing behind him as all IPAF doors did to prevent unwanted infiltration of their facilities. Kiser strolled towards the glass case encompassing the blue Fey, tapping the password on a panel attached to its 'coffin'.


The glass dome slid open, sinking into the operating table as the liquid did, leaving the Fey exposed to the frigid air of the room. Needles were attached to its body, pumping Fey-tested sedatives into its veins, flooding its dichromatic blood. "Wakey, wakey, artichoke," Kiser whispered in the Fey's ear, blowing a gust of warm air into blue-boy's ear. "Howdy, mate. The name's Kiser and yours is...?" he began, pulling away from the Fey and pacing around the table it was strapped to. "Tell me all about this lovely monarchy of yours and that scythe wielding Capricorn, won't you? If you don't," Kiser paused. "I don't think you Fey are immune to electroshock, are you?" Kiser grinned. "Don't think all your other Fey friends were. And if that isn't enough, I've always wanted to try iron darts and Fey dartboards."


"Ah, push it! Push it good. Ah, push it! P-push it real good. Hey! Ow! Push it good!" Salt n' Pepper sang from the speakers of his iPhone 10. Bloody hell. Orpheus moaned, burying himself deeper into the mattress and the soft bodies of the two women whose names he could not remember and whose names he never would. Identities didn't matter, as far as he was concerned. All he cared about was the presence of appropriate body parts. Or not. He was always up for an unusual adventure.

Orpheus reached over the naked skin of a redheaded woman - an air hostess, if he'd remembered correctly - to fumble for his glowing iPhone. The room was incredibly dark which meant only one thing - either it was 3 freaking AM or the curtains had been drawn closed. Okay, that was two.

"Orpheus speaking, not speaking. Go away," he mumbled, pressing the phone to his ear. Every fraction of movement felt like another tear in his head, like someone was bowling with his brain. He didn't think he'd drunk that much last night, but then again, when did he not? He'd spent the past six months on Earth drunk and participating in questionable activities.

"We've found- " the raspy voice of a man who'd smoked one hundred too many cigarettes attempted to announce.

"Found what? Your manhood? Please, tell me more, tell me more. Does it have a car?" he sang mockingly as he crawled over the sprawled bodies.

"We've found Raena."

Orpheus stilled. "You are certain of this?" he asked, searching for his clothes amongst the scattered pieces of lingerie. There.

"Well, not really... But it looked like the woman you'd asked us to search for: white hair, freaky eyes, beyond beautiful. I saw her with my own eyes." Well, that wasn't very comforting. The man was ancient, like, practically 25.

"Where?" he asked, anyway. Orpheus pulled on his pants, hopping about as he held his phone between his head and his muscular shoulder.

"Upper New York Bay," came the reply. Orpheus tripped and fell onto the ground with a loud thump. "Uh, you okay, sir?" the voice asked on the other end. Orpheus groaned in reply, picking up his phone - which was surprisingly still in one piece - and rubbing his sore neck. Never, ever multitask with a hangover and a male body part. Bad, bad idea. Orpheus disconnected his phone, tucking it in the back pocket of his jeans as he stood, wobbling slightly. He found his black shirt discarded on a lamp and pulled it on, doing up the buttons. He doubted this was who he wished it to be; if she were alive, it would not be Winter. He knew, most certainly, that she would never let the world fall into such disarray if she were still... No, he didn't wish to think of it. He merely hoped to enjoy the last few months of his life before the world came to an end.

Minutes later, he found himself by the Upper New York Bay, scanning the crowds with little hope until he spotted a blur of... "Well, well, isn't this a surprise?" he mused, walking towards Yuki with a practiced smile. Orpheus bowed, taking the Winter Fey's hand in his and kissing the back of her palm. He raised his head, giving her a brief wink as he straightened himself. "Yuki, Yuki, quite contrary. How does your garden grow?" he teased, placing a hand on her lower back and edging her forward. "Walk with me," he said.

Orpheus was once a part of the Unseelie court, when the Queen had asked that he look after the 'disappointing Aerunia.' He'd spent many a millennium with the Unseelies and had grown rather fond of the beautiful Yuki, although, he was fond of everyone. As in, he liked to feel their skin against his and nothing more. He'd not spoken to another Fey in six months and now he acted as if he'd never disappeared. It appeared luck was with him today as not too far away was another familiar companion. "Tiggy." Orpheus beamed. Taking his hand from the curve of Yuki's spine, he took Tiggy's hand in his, kissing hers as he had Yuki's. "Ma fille la plus belle d'été," he said in his honeyed voice. My loveliest summer girl. He straightened himself, loosening his top button and running a hand through his flawless, strawberry blonde hair. He had two beautiful women of both Winter and Summer, oh, this would be fun.

"Now, where is our Queen?" he asked casually, throwing a nearby man who'd been staring at him a wink. Well, everyone was staring at him, or maybe them, seeing as they all looked to be heart-breakingly beautiful. But mostly him. Orpheus had been a 'favourite' of the Queen's when they'd been in the Faerie Realms. There were rumours of him sharing the Queen's bed, rumours he'd never bothered to deny. He had also been known as the 'Oracle of Darkness' or 'Orpheus the Calziel' as he'd been rumoured to be capable to conversing with the dead. Rumours, he also, had not denied.

Orpheus narrowed his eyes at the persimmon streaked sky; it must've been at least 5 in the evening now. "Guess the curtains were closed," he whispered to himself.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orpheus Character Portrait: Raena Character Portrait: Iokul Frosti Character Portrait: Dunkelzahn Character Portrait: Kiser Nathaniel Burntwood Character Portrait: Azriel De'mourn Character Portrait: Tiggy The Summer Fae
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#, as written by Layla

It was neither gradual nor gentle, being as if her foot had been placed over a land mine and then abruptly torn from it. The walls of her skull shook and trembled as an essence of the Queen rushed into her empty shell, tearing apart the seams that had held it apart. Raena found herself lying on the floor, staring at a bleak ceiling with its glaring lights. She must've fallen in her abrupt session of remembering. The High Queen did not squint against the light, why would she when it was so... Beneath her. She did, however, narrow her gaze at the dark haired man nearby. She grunted, bloody hell.

"Well, get on with it. State your name and... Whatever you are," she said with a frown, her head still pressed against the floor, her hair a ripple of white like a halo surrounding her head. "A wingless, two legged creature with a strange head," she mumbled. "It is neither a unicorn nor a Fey. A tortoise?" The turtles of the Faerie Realms walked on two legs and had a head - that was close enough. Right?

"My name is Azriel," he said.

"Azriel," she said his name slowly, as if forming human words was still a mystery to her. "Azriel," she repeated in her soft, sugared voice. "Hmph. Pretty," she said curtly.

Raena stood gingerly, although rising with an unnatural grace as she pressed her fingers to her temples. In the name of herself, this place was disorientating. Raena leaned against the kitchen counter, pursing her lips in distaste as she began at the man's crown, her eyes slowly drifting to his toes and rising once again to meet his eyes. "Immortal, wingless, but not a unicorn. A rock?" she mused, pushing away from the counter and gliding towards his cabinets. She pulled open a door, pulling out a mug and hanging it on the tip of her little finger. "Your goblets lack intricacy." Her finger traced the rim of the mug and a soft, observant, "Mmmm," hummed through her throat as she placed the mug by the sink.

"So tell me about this person you wish to find, he seems very important to you," Azriel said.

Raena was captivated by what he was doing with the equipment in the kitchen. He seemed to be cooking some strange things that smelled... Weird. He was gliding and spinning around her as if they were in a ballroom, but they were not, were they? Perhaps this was merely a freakishly small ballroom. Raena blinked up at him, captivated by the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he moved with a quiet elegance. "I don't know," she said in reply. "He has skin like... Shadows," she began, holding her hand in front of her and stretching out her fingers as if fascinated by her own hand. "Eyes like stars. Perfect, but hideous in a way that made hideousness beautiful," she said quietly. "Mine."

"Press the button on the right if you don't like the song." Raena blinked the scattered thoughts away, looking at the small rectangular cube he was pointing to. She looked at it in puzzlement, shrinking at the sound that had filled the kitchen.

"We are never, ever, ever, getting back together!" Raena frowned - how could they know? Were they Seers, able to see the future? She gingerly pressed the right button, jumping slightly as the music changed.

"Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad," the speakers sang. What?

"I want you to shake my booty, I want you to shake my booty!" Next.

"There's a piece of lead where my heart should beat
Doctor said "Too dangerous to reap
You'd better just leave it be"
Body grew back around it, a miracle, praise be
Now, if only I could get through airport security"

Raena stood still, her finger lingering over the next button as she stared at Azriel's laptop. The voice, it was... Familiar. Liquid crystals spilled from the skies, mingling with obsidian rivers and shattering into a voice - his voice. "Who is this?" she asked.

"You cared for me," she said curtly after a pause, as way of thanks. Raena paused, lifting her shirt to her lips and biting into the cloth. It wasn't edible. "Hmph," she huffed, dropping the shirt and curling her hand around the handle of the door. "I am removing the wall," she announced as she twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Raena sashayed down a hallway but stilled as she spotted a ravishing gown on a not so ravishing creature. "Female," she called, ushering the woman toward her. The stranger looked at Raena with utter confusion, looking over her shoulder before reluctantly walking towards the half-clad Queen of Order. "Who is your tailor?" Raena asked, eyeing the dress as if she were considering ripping it off the girl's body.

"Umm... What?" the woman mumbled, her eyes darting left and right.

"Who fashions your garments?" Raena rephrased.

"Uh... Forever 21...?"

"Brilliant. You are dismissed," Raena said with a wave of her hand and a toss of her silky white hair. The High Queen lifted her chin and sashayed down the hallway, pressing the elevator button as if she were performing a holy ritual. "This is an elevator," she told Azriel. "It goes up and down."

"I summon this Earthling, Forever 21," she announced as she stepped out of the elevator after staring at the crack that separated the elevator from the floor on the other for several long moments. "He will fashion me a gown. This garment of yours is not very warm," she told the Vampire as if he alone was responsible for the warmth of clothing. The Queen's first step outside of the building was much worse than a shock. She stilled, narrowing her gaze at the blanket of white that coated the world. The first thing she noticed, however, was not that she was bloody freezing, but that their horses were flat or fat, or both, and metallic? The second thing she noticed was how... Colourless everything was. Their ground were made with a strange, grey brick and their skies had no rivers, their trees, no eyes.

A whistle was blown, causing the Queen to jump back in surprise. "Hey, hey, babe! You are one fine motherfucker!" called a man as his other male comrades slapped him on the back as they barked unusual sounds. Why had they slapped him? Were they not friends? And what was -

"A motherfooka?" she repeated in puzzlement, looking at Azriel incredulously. "Your people are quite eccentric. What is a 'motherfooka?' Strange, very strange," she mumbled, continuing on her merry way, despite having no clue where she was going. She was the Queen, the world and its inhabitants would shift for her. Although the structures here seemed quite rude, she had to take a step away from straight just to avoid an uneducated pole with three circles and changing colours. She'd gotten a few more uncalled for, "Hey babeh washyouh naym"'s which she did not get at all. But what was the weirdest of all was the one man who'd said, "Yo baby, you be my Dairy Queen, I'll be your Burger King. You treat me right and I'll do it your way right away."

"Is he the king of this foreign world?" she'd asked Azriel. "King Burger? But what is dairy and why did he call me his child? Is he my father?"

Raena stopped in her tracks, glaring at a building for not moving out of her way before tilting her head to the side and blinking her large powder blue eyes. "Forever 21 has yet to arrive."


Kiser sniffed Zahn out long before she'd come close to him but he decided not to react. What was the point? "Hey," she whispered in his ear. He sighed as she swung her brass knuckle covered fist back and winced as it connected with his chin and smacked his head aside. Ouch. That surprisingly hurt. "Don't you EVER leave a soldier behind again!"

"Not bad for a girl punch," he joked, rubbing his bloody chin and split lip. Kiser grinned, holding up both hands in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay. I deserved that." Zahn went on to threaten him, a threat he didn't pay much attention to as he'd already turned his body to the Fey before him. The brutal wounds on his face inflicted by the sulking, serious, brooding Dunkelzahn was already healing, becoming a mere bruise on his face. He didn't care about the soldiers of IPAF. They did what they had to and knew full well the consequences and dangers they were enlisting for, years of work on the field when he'd been with the military had hardened him, desensitised him to the prospect of death. Jenson only reminded him of it. He'd been a Commander and so, so many of his soldiers had died, there was no longer any point in caring or even learning to know their names. He'd been rather fond of Jenson, though, and he'd never admit it but he found that their nickname for him - Yeti - had grown on him.


"In the name of the Queen, where have you been?" Tiggy gushed. Orpheus pressed a pianist worthy finger over her lips, closing his eyes and cocking his head as if listening to the wind, although, that was all just for dramatic effect.

"Shh," he whispered. "Do not use the Queen's name in vain." Orpheus opened his eyes, a grin lighting his flawless features. "Nice to see you, too, Tiggy Stardust."

"Where have you been?" the Summer Fey continued. Orpheus arched a brow - a gesture almost no other Fey used due to how beneath them it was, but Orpheus quite liked these human expressions. They were rather... Expressive. The Oracle of Darkness gestured toward a billboard with his perfect face upon it, his intense pools of azure staring through the camera at all who laid eyes on his photograph. God, he was sexy. 'Sacrilegious' was written by his name, it was the name of the band he'd somehow joined without remembering doing so. They were famous now, apparently, and he was their lead singer and guitarist. Well, as long as it paid for his drinks and ravishing mansion.

"Looks like you haven't been keeping up with the tabloids and Earthling music, little one," he mused. As if to prove his point, a crowd of teenage girls raced towards him; Orpheus beamed, gracing them with his heart-shattering smile. The girls seemed to melt in the steps as they surrounded him, shoving Tiggy aside as they did. "Girls, girls. I am quite busy," he teased, reaching through them and grabbing Tiggy's wrist, pulling her to his side and lazily hanging an arm around her shoulders. "Although, I'm absolutely free tonight," he said with a wink. The girls giggled - predictable - as he quickly signed whatever objects they handed him. After much convincing - or not, since he was fantastic at making people do as he wished - they finally went away. Orpheus chuckled, before his face fell abruptly into a frown.

"As we were saying, where did you see this maybe-Rae? Did you see where she went? And why are you referring to yourself in third person? Where is the blue-skinned killer? What's his name? Praxis."