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The End of Days

Earth

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a part of The End of Days, by Emmie_Hoeller.

This is Earth now, or at least what is left of it; even though the Angels have not been long on Earth they have made a mess of it. This is the new world.

Emmie_Hoeller holds sovereignty over Earth, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

816 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

this rp is based on the book series "penryn and the end of days," by susan ee. http://www.susanee.com/blog/angelfall/ https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11500217-angelfall

Setting

{ All that Remains }

Pillaged of most of its resources (i.e. food, clothing, and the like), the humans have struggled to replenish themselves and restore some kind of normalcy. Their Earth is not much different from the one you live in now, but is instead crippled by a heavier poverty. There are still jobs and an education system struggling to return to what it once was.
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Earth

This is Earth now, or at least what is left of it; even though the Angels have not been long on Earth they have made a mess of it. This is the new world.

Minimap

Earth is a part of The End of Days.

3 Places in Earth:

4 Characters Here

Uriella [2] "In my opinion, they're all a bunch of idiots."
Sariah [1] "All life is precious and I will try my best to protect it."
Darian Valaro [1] Most dragons seem to have interesting personalities, besides probably having quite good reasons for what they do, if only one could understand them...
Charlotte Reid [1] "Not all who wonder are lost, some are simply searching for the light."

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Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rory Daniels Character Portrait: Miyazaki Ruka Character Portrait: Theliel
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the theme of this party's the industrial age and you came in dressed like a trainwreck
{ 740 Words | Sunset | The Aerie }


Theliel had been busy on security shifts all afternoon and evening; although he hadn't been working
security specifically he'd been running messages and reports between the bosses Upstairs and the
security officers on the ground. This wasn't exactly what he'd pictured doing with his day, though, and
it filled him with a dull ache of longing for the days when he'd been allowed to patrol partnered,
because that was how he and Ezra had worked best, because alone they were a messenger and a lowly
guardian, but together they'd been good enough, fast and smart enough to hold everything together.

By the time the sun was melting into the horizon, scattering crimson prisms across the lawn and
lighting wings and grass on fire, Todd had been finally relieved of his duties and he gratefully
returned to his room and as he slid his t-shirt off, loosened his jeans from his hips, he couldn't help
but examine his face in the mirror, run two fingers across his dirt-smudged collarbone and bite his
lip before he nodded to himself, deciding if he was going to go to a party in style he definitely needed
to shave the stubble which had taken up residence along his jaw. Ducking into his bathroom, he did so
with a short, finessed blade and no bodily harm, surprisingly. Which made him grin and giggle a bit,
and which lit up his insides in such a way that he couldn't help but feel just a little more excited.
Before getting dressed, he strolled across his room to the gateleg table which held his mirror, and
poured himself a glass of white wine from the pitcher there, lifting the glass to his lips and examining
the lawns from the window. It was all outdone, things always were in the Aerie when they had to leave
a lasting impression. Sometimes it made Todd feel cheap, today it filled him with a bubbling
excitement.

Polishing off half his wine in a little under two minutes, Todd felt warmer and he crossed to his chest
of drawers to pull on first loose grey slacks, which he rejected after looking in the mirror, and then
second, a pair of tight, black slacks which curved around his thigh in a way Todd felt much more good
about than the weird wrinkle the grey ones had given him. He fussed over these things for a long
moment before sliding a button down shirt over his shoulders, one which matched perfectly to the fawn
color of his wings, buttoning from the bottom and leaving the top three buttons undone, open to show
the dip in his collarbone and the curve of his neck meeting his shoulder. Finishing the rest of his wine,
Todd slipped the peacock mask onto his face, the feathers at the sides brushing his cheeks and a cursory
glance in the mirror told him things were definitely all in place. Sitting down on his unmade bed, Todd
ran his fingers through his wings, sorting out the splits in his feathers at the very tips of his wings and
attempting to groom them into some sort of presentable arrangement. The brown freckles across his
feathers slowly fell into place, and the dark tipped wings gleamed softly under the warm light of the
overhead. As he stood, he let them relax downward in their neutral position, with the dark tips nearly
brushing the ground, he had to pull them in a bit as he slid through his door and to the festivities
outside. Candlelight, starlight, and the gleam of champagne flutes filled the air. All Todd could do was
stare at the myriad of masks around him, let his lips fall into a casual pink curve of a smile while he
informally swiped a glass of champagne from a passing Son of Man with a silver platter in his hands.
He sipped his drink slow, surveying the crowd for familiar wings or familiar lips (maybe those he'd
kissed before, and could consider kissing again), his ears sharply aware of any familiar cadences in the
air. The angel found himself leaning against an archway, searching, waiting, watching.




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if memory serves i'm addicted to words and they're useless
{ 672 Words | Sunset | Earth, the Aerie }



Rory couldn't be sure what exactly made him come to the ball, although he
had a hundred half thought out reasons to be there. (Intel, beautiful people, angels, and a myriad of
other fractal fractured thoughts.) In the end it boiled down to a change of pace, needing to get out of
his lonely little apartment and out of his head and out of the kitchen where the only thing in the
fridge-freezer combo were his snakes' frozen mice, and the living room where the couch smelled
vaguely like dust for lack of anyone sitting there. So he'd put on a wrinkled dress shirt he found in the
back of his closet with the simple black masquerade mask he'd been looking for, and his most proper
pants, just dark jeans that he thought might as well not be noticed too badly, and pulled it all together
with a slightly ragged violet tie. By the time he'd stepped out his front door for a cigarette while he
gathered himself as he always did pre-socialization, he'd talked himself out of and back into going
already. But the world stretched grey and empty around him and something had to give, so he'd
sucked it up with the smoke and decided that he needed to have the balls to do this kind of thing if
he was going to learn anything more about the angels than he already knew. So he'd grabbed two packs
of filterless pall mals from the Stewart's on the corner and dissolved into the night and the sound of
his footsteps on the sidewalk.

Being in the Aerie immediately felt like something that Rory shouldn't have been doing but taking a deep
breath, tightening his mask around his eyes, he hurried himself into the ball with a beating heart
and the feeling of distaste and anxiousness in the pit of his stomach. Grateful for the security check not
confiscating his stashed glass one hitter, and instead swiping the pocket knife he'd forgotten was in his
back pocket, he stole himself across the lawn to where the long shadows of the Aerie's largest foliage
were dark enough for him to hide away and observe the party's guests. He preferred this approach
more than he'd ever enjoy chatting up the various humans and angels at the party, and if he was honest
with himself, the better vantage of the angels' wings, various colors shapes and sizes, sans the combat
he'd seen them in before, was rather beautiful. The dying light of day only served to make them glow.

Lighting up a cigarette, tucking it between his lips, Rory was more than satisfied to simply observe
festivities until he spotted an unmasked human strolling between guests in the thick of them with a
silver platter dotted with gleaming champagne flutes. He took a long moment mentally weighing the
pros and cons of approaching the crowd. He'd have to be in much closer proximity to the guests, but
then again, he'd also have the dull warmth of alcohol in his blood and bravery coursing through his
veins. It wasn't a bad trade off. Sucking on his cigarette he ashed on the lawn and decisively began
picking his way into the thick of the crowd again. Before he reached any of the alcohol, though, an
angel slightly taller than him in an elaborate peacock mask caught his shoulder and glared at him
from the edge of an archway.
“Oi. Pretty boy, put that shit out,” the angel hissed and Rory rolled his eyes.
“Yeah yeah,” he muttered in return.
Rory turned on his heel and flipped him off while he quickly turned to search out the tray of
refreshments again, grimacing in one of his unique ways to grimace, showing annoyance, indignance
and an antisocial loathing of his situation all at once. He, of course, got lost in the crowd and never
did find the son of man with the champagne, which only served to add to his frustration and annoyance.
He angrily huffs and takes a drag off his cigarettes, trying to get his bearings in the masses.




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i don't know why i have to tell it but i know what it means.
{ 552 Words | Sunset | Earth, the Aerie }



“That one, please,”
Rue's heavily accented voice cut through the dusty silence.
The costume shop smelled like mothballs, dust, and old linen mixed with the sharp scent of new latex.
It was a smell that made Rue's stomach turn and her feet tap gentle on the hardwood, quick, uncertain.
The clerk nods and hands her the masquerade mask. Rue checks out quick, nervously as the sun spills
through the shop window, golden in the midsummer evening and begging to be let free of the ring of
horizon holding it in. Holding the mask up to her face in a small mirror by the counter, she decides it
will do and quickly vacates the shop, still uneasy and with a strange volatile mix of anxiety and
bravery mixing in her gut.

Her way home is quick and decisive and she keeps her keys jammed tight between her first and second
knuckles the whole way back. It's not that she's scared necessarily, but the adrenaline of going into
the Aerie is certainly coalescing in her stomach, and Rue can't help but let it sweep her up a little. Her
thoughts are buzzing numb while she prepares, puts on her best formal dress with a dark red-violet
shawl and long gloves before synching the violet and cream mask to her face. She pulls her hair up,
and bares the skin from her cheeks to under her clavicles, showing off the stretch of porcelain and
gentle curvature of muscle, bone, and skin. Perhaps it would distract from her face if anyone were to
be able to recognize her from surveillance of the rebellion's movements. She brought no weapons with
her, left her gun at home, which gave her more anxiety than entering the Aerie ever would, and she
departed for the masquerade with her skin prickling and hot with anxiety.

The myriad of wings scattered across the lawn and attached to various masked guests were all Rue
could see or really focus on, the immense collection of angels and humans intermingling made her
chest burn and her stomach turn against her spine. Past the security check, she watched carefully the
concentration of guests and decided she had two options; first she could attempt to seek out a friendly
and willing Child of Man to give her as much information as she could get and leave, or she could
converse with an angel and attempt to find the same means. In her mind, the first option was a much
more likely successful one, so she ducked her head, hoping to god no one would recognize her
behind the mask, and darted into the crowd to look for any humans who seemed to be more or less
in the know of what was going on and where everything was. It wasn't too long before she was tailing
a boy who seemed to know his way around, but a few minutes in, he got lost and began flirting with
a female angel and Rue decided he was the wrong type of target. Instead she carefully scoped again,
searching for the right face, the right mask, something. She still wasn't quite sure what it was that she
was looking for, what might cue her in. But it was a lost cause if she didn't at least look.

Setting

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Darian Valaro
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The cupboard was a temporary hiding place. Soon enough, an angel would find him and pull him from his silent sanctuary- but the few minutes alone were good enough for him. His pen rolled over a napkin with practice and ease, the meaningless blue lines slowly forming the shape of a lion.

The lion on the napkin began to take shape, morphing from lines to a body, dots to eyes, strikes to thick fur. The proud stance never faltered. One paw lifted, and the lions head tilted his way. Every frame took longer than the last, flickering and halting. He pushed the napkin away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut.
It’s lack of sleep. You need to sleep.

When he looked left and right he was struck by an unexplainable pain. Everywhere he looked in the Aerie there was always something to remind him of his father . When he closed his eyes to try and escape it all it stayed with his and he flashed before his, body broken and bleeding. And when he couldn’t handle it he’d be there once more, as healthy as he was before the incident, with his warm smile and friendly advice. Strange are the habits of the human heart. Spilling tears as if such a thing could be called medicine, forgetting that salt water in a wound will only ignite blood until it burns. The boy spent weeks scouring the aerie to find a place as hollow as he. Tendrils of darkness gave the shadows reason to dance, and as they did he would take to the streets and walk through the darkness without fear. There is no reason for him to glance about and strain his eyes for danger - nothing is left to inflict more hurt upon his weakened stance than the horrors that already hold him hostage. No cavernous alleyway or deserted side-street.

Now, he finds himself with wide eyes and a broken step, right back where he began. Arms clinging to his knees, holding himself together. A boy with a hole in his chest the size of the world. Lonely, and yet afraid of all the awful things that people can bring to an otherwise perfect life. But what was the forest without the kings that ruled over it, what was the endless sea without the brave sailors, the universe without the three brothers who loved it? Empty. A single word explains why Darian is hiding in a closet, counting the seconds as they pass. Empty. It tells of the lines that dig deep into his father's flesh. Empty is why you can hurt and hurt until you think that there is nothing left to hurt and then hurt some more.

In bittersweet darkness he heard them, their murmurs of mourning and sorrow echoing through his mind. He could hear men and women and children raising their voices in a chorus of despair, whimpering and calling and wailing to each other across the voids of darkness in his mind. It was the aerie. It had to be – what else could make him hear voices in the dead silence of the closet, when the only noises that rode the air were pen scratches the sound of his steady breathing? He was absolutely silent as he stared up at the darkness above him, listening to them with his jaw set and his gaze cold, one hand always on his pen. At one point he tried covering his ears, but the voices did not stop. The symphony of the dead would not be silenced. His only comfort was that they could not last forever.

He hadn’t slept in three days, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He’s always been a bit of an insomniac, but seventy-two straight hours of zero shut-eye could really take its toll. The scene around him faded in and out like defective telescope as he swirled his pen in the air, drawing loops and figures of eight before-

Nothing. The scene faded jet black, sleep finally coming. The pen was still clenched under his fingers.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sariah Character Portrait: Charlotte Reid
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#, as written by Cloud

With a sigh of relief Charlotte quickly backed out of Jacob's room, quietly closing the door behind her. Jock was one of the Angels that made Char extremely nervous. He wasn't known for his kindness to humans and had anything been wrong with his suit, Charlotte was certain she would have heard and felt his displeasure. The only consolation Char could see was that it had got her off yard duty. With the irritating house arrest bracelet wrapped around her ankle, she couldn't imagine that walking around the garden doing work would be particularly comfortable.

Downstairs she could hear the sounds of guests arriving and the thrum of the band playing. Charlotte hadn't given much thought to the ball, her mind had been more concerned with making sure Jacob's suit was perfect. Now, as she glanced down one of the stairwells in the direction of the festivities, she wished that she had had the time to get together a dress and mask. She hadn't been tasked with any job during the ball, thankfully, but without an appropriate dress and mask she would stick out like a sore thumb down there.

A wave of guilt rushed over her and Charlotte pulled herself away from the stairwell. She wasn't at the Aerie to attend balls, she was here to find and rescue her sister. So far she had only hit walls in her search. All signs had pointed to the Aerie, but now that she was here Charlotte was having frustratingly little progress. As she made her way down a quieter corridor she began, once again, to think over everything she knew about the angels (which was achingly little). Her mind came up with numerous theories of where her sister might be, but each one had its holes. Wistfully she wished that she could read minds, like in the comic books she used to read as a kid. That would make her search so much easier.

The sound of an opening door snapped Char out of her thoughts. Partially surprised and not particularly keen to be given another mundane chore by an Angel, Char glanced around for a quick exit or a place to hide. However, there was nowhere to go and before she could begin to back down the corridor the Angel had stepped into the corridor.
"Charlotte?" Sariah's kind voice immediatly calmed Char's nerves. She seemed just as surprised to find Charlotte outside her door, but where other angels might have ignored her or made some snide comment, Sariah gave her a warm smile. Charlotte couldn't help but respond in kind. "I hope you're not busy. Sariah continued, "I was just about to run down to see if anyone could help me. Do you think I could borrow you for a minute?"
Charlotte gave a nod of consent and followed Sariah back into her room. Charlotte always liked how Sariah never demanded, she simply asked. It made Charlotte feel like she had a choice and she was certain that if she had said no to Sariah, the angel wouldn't have been angry. "How can I help?" Charlotte asked, her Scottish twang evident as she spoke. Her eyes danced around Sariah's room, moving from the simple and elegant furniture and decorations to the beautiful pink dress hanging up by the wardrobe. "Oh, it's lovely!" Charlotte exclaimed, stepping forward to run a hand through the silky fabric. Sariah bobbed her head in thanks.
"It's lovely, but a pain to get into. Especially with these things." Sariah replied, nodding back to her wings with a playful smile, "Would you mind helping me into it?
"Yeah, sure!" Charlotte said. Sariah gave her a grateful smile and quickly took off the loose pants and shirt she was wearing. With Charlotte holding the dress open for her Sariah stepped inside it. Then, with Sariah keeping her wings aloft and out of the way, Charlotte began to tie the small bow at the back of the dress.







Sariah most likely could have handled getting dressed by herself. The dress was hardly that intricate and despite her complaints about her wings, they weren't really in the way. In truth she had been about to leave her room in search of a bit of pre-ball snack food, but on finding Charlotte outside in the corridor with a rather forlorn expression across her face, Sari had made a quick decision.
"Are you going to the Masquerade?" Sariah asked, turning her head slightly to try and see Char's face as she tied the bow. Charlotte shook her head, "No, I thought I would just read in bed." Charlotte offered. Sariah thought she detected a hint of regret. "Anyway, I was working on Jacob's suit so I haven't had time to sort myself a dress." Charlotte added, her voice attempting to be bright and carefree. It was a good act, but Sariah was rather adept at detecting emotions.

"Perhaps I could help you with that." Sariah offered, turning to face Charlotte once she had finished tying the bow. Sari gave her a smile before disappearing momentarily into her wardrobe. She reappeared a minute later, a blue dress in her hands. "I think this one would suit you." Sariah said, holding the dress up to Charlotte, "I've had it for a while, but I've never got to wear it."
Charlotte took hold of the dress, disbelief clear on her face. "But... seriously?" Sariah nodded and gave a light laugh, enjoying the happy surprise on Charlotte's face. Charlotte might have thought it was some cruel joke had it come from almost any other angel, but from Sariah Charlotte knew it to be a kind gift. Before she could refuse Sariah was already helping her into it and buttoning up the back. Sariah was pleased to see that it was a wonderful fit. Her nice deed wouldn't have worked so well had the dress been too small or large.

"Beautiful, but not quite complete." Sariah said as the pair gazed into the mirror. Once again Sariah disappeared into her closest, this time emerging with a mask in each hand. She handed the ice crystal mask to Charlotte while she tied the delicate golden mask around her own face. Charlotte lightly traced the ice drops on her mask before carefully fitting it over her eyes. With that the transformation was complete and both Angel and human were ready for the ball. Sariah led the way out, smiling as the sound of music and chatting people gradually got louder as they drew closer to the party.

The pair reached a set of doors which opened to the side of the main room. As Sariah opened the door the sound intensified. The two stepped through the door, Sariah taking it all in with a soft smile while Charlotte couldn't help but grin.
"Seriously Sariah, thank you!" Charlotte said. Sariah smiled and shook her head,
"It's my pleasure. Now go and enjoy yourself." With those last words of advice Sariah glided away, leaving Charlotte gazing around the room and wondering where she should go first.

Setting

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elijah
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He was currently locked away inside his room, sitting at the grande piano. Elijah allowed his fingers to glide gracefully across the keys, the music soothing his soul. He did this often any time he found some free time. Many of the others did not understand why he enjoyed such things and honestly, Elijah never really felt the need to explain himself. The Archangel allowed his eyes to close as he continued playing the beautiful music.

He was unsure as to how much time had passed when there came a knock at his door. He stopped playing immediately, rising from his seat. Elijah made his way to the door, unlocking it, and then allowing the person to enter. It was some Human that normally took care of his needs. She bustled about his room, going on about him needing to get ready for the festivities. Elijah merely watched as she began setting out his clothing for the evening. When she was finished, he thanked her softly before seeing her out of the room. "I believe that I can finish from here." He said as he closed the door and locked it once again.

The Archangel made his way back through his room and began dressing. A grey suit with a sapphire colored tie. It was his most favorite tie and he was fairly pleased that the girl had paired it with the suit. Elijah finished getting dressed and then made his way to a mirror. He began fixing his tie and making sure that everything was where he wanted it to be. Elijah then headed to his bathroom and began fixing his hair. This, he spent a bit more time on.

When, at last, Elijah was happy with his appearance, he headed back into his room and over to a wooden box. He slowly opened it, revealing the mask he intended to wear. He slowly lifted the mask and placed it over his eyes. He positioned it in the correct location and then tied it about his head. Elijah then took one final look at himself before slowly leaving his chambers.

Elijah made his way through the all too familiar halls. He could already hear the sounds of music and people talking. He passed quite a very beings though paid none of them any mind. When, at last, he entered the large room where the party was taking place. As a Archangel, Elijah held himself high and proudly. Even though his face was partially covered by the mask, he still felt as if he should act every bit the being he truly was. He could not afford any time spent doing anything else.

Once his feet touched the main floor, Elijah allowed himself to move across the floor. He slowly made his way towards the opposite side of the room, coming to stand away from most of the others. He saw no reason to mingle. This was all Godric's idea. He'd not cared for it though had not argued the point. He'd only agreed to show up..nothing more.

As he watched those around him dancing, drinking, and just enjoying themselves, Elijah couldn't help but find himself curious as to their actions. He'd never been one to enjoy such things, always preferring to be left alone to his thoughts. However, he had to admit..the party was quite wonderful. It seemed to him that nothing had been held back.

One of the Humans that were serving guests walked by him, offering a drink. He took one, thanking the young man. He brought the drink up to his lips, taking a shallow sip. Elijah was curious..curious to see if anything would go wrong at the event. It was certainly a possibility. He pushed the thought from his mind. He would need to see Godric at some point, making sure that the other Archangel knew that he had, in fact, come as promised. He sighed softly. That could wait until later though. He had all night, after all.

Setting

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rory Daniels Character Portrait: Theliel Character Portrait: Jacob Character Portrait: Stiles
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the theme of this party's the industrial age and you came in dressed like a trainwreck
{ 417 Words | Sunset | The Aerie }


Todd glared after the kid in the black mask with the cigarette between his lips. He snorted, trying to
clear his nasal passages of the sweet stench of nicotine. Turning and shaking his head slowly so the
blue and green feathers of his mask brushed his hair and cheeks again, his eyes fell on a human in a
three-quarters mask and clothing that hugged his body and made him look to die for. Todd grinned.
He'd recognize Stiles anywhere, but the grin quickly soured to grimace when he saw the man beside
him leaning in close to speak into Stiles' ear. He hissed under his breath and spat, pushing himself off
from the arch and letting his wings shake out, spread menacing. As he pushes his way through the
crowd, he comes into being able to hear Stiles' voice and the other masked man's through the murmur
of the festivities.

“Who do you belong to?” the words sour in Todd's stomach as he hears them.

The hair on the back of his neck stood and his eyebrows knit together, his lips pushing into a grimace
so deep it was practically a pout while he fought his way through the crowds around the bar. By the
time he got there, though, the other man was long gone and Stiles had a little look on his face that
made Todd glow with pride. He sidled up next to Stiles and murmured in his ear, leaning in close,

“Hey Stiles, no one giving you trouble are they? Oh look at that. You're being a big boy and drinking.”

He leaned away from Stiles to order a drink from the human making drinks and receive it, but stayed
close enough to Stiles that their hips brushed. He turned his attention back to the boy as soon as he
had his wine. He swirled the glass by the stem idly, examining Stiles' face for any sign of displeasure.
He was uneasy about the man who'd been bothering this human; his human, claimed the moment
they became friends. Jock's little menial tortures, those were okay with him, they didn't harm him but
the moment someone started doing anything that could be misconstrued as coercion immediately
sparked a deep and utter loathing laced with sharp jealousy and sparks of anger. He slowly let the
concern spill into his eyes, looking Stiles up and down and back to his face, then nodding slowly.

“I'm serious, though. That guy looked like an asshole. Are you okay?” he let his voice crack with
sincerity, softened his eyes and rested a hand gently on his friend's shoulder, giving him one final
look over before stepping away enough to give him a little space, his body language staying open
enough to make it evident if Stiles wanted to take the next step forward he could, if he needed the
support or the touch or anything.

If there was anything Todd was good at, it was showing support when those he loved needed it, and
on a deep level he had a hard time not falling in love with nearly any human, especially the ones he
saw on the daily in the Aerie. He could appreciate the beauty in almost anything, and in Stiles it shone;
it always stung to see him tarnished by the slightest things and if it was within Todd's power he'd
protect the boy just like he'd protect any other beautiful creature in his life. He hoped he made it
evident enough.




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if memory serves i'm addicted to words and they're useless
{ 474 Words | Sunset | Earth, the Aerie }



Rory's heart began beating too fast in his chest the moment the crowd swallowed him and a certain
kind of panic slid through his veins on the tail of adrenaline and nicotine. Everything buzzed, his
whole body falling into a terrible, singular, perfectly put together chaos while his lungs seized and
his whole body reeled with the sudden realization and fear of people slowly closing in around him.
As the panic attack swelled in his chest and Rory's eyes widened he froze for a long, long moment
until a waiter quite literally ran into him. The world went bright with the panic and lack of clarity, and
Rory felt his throat tighten while his shirt was drenched in alcohol. His mask dislodged slightly,
now hanging uneven across his cheek and he looked up long enough to lock eyes with the waiter, and
then to bolt from the crowd as fast as possible, knocking into a female angel on the way and heaving
with the lack of breath and the sudden tautness in his muscles. His cigarette flattened between his lips,
somehow staying there while he darted away. The taste of tobacco strands filled his mouth and took
his focus from the receding crowd at his back. Somehow he found his way through an archway to the
gardens, more ornate than he'd seen gardens before and pretty enough to rise bile and bitterness in his
throat.

Eyes still huge, pupils blown, Rory wheeled on his heel to survey the less crowded garden and
immediately zeroed in on a server with a silver platter of champagne glasses which he decided
instantaneously was exactly what he needed. To drench his panicked brain in alcohol. Great plan, he
thought to himself, almost proud of his terrible decision making while he sidled, still cautious and wide
eyed to the server, accepting a glass and turning harsh on his heel, which was the exact moment a man
he'd hardly noticed before happened to be in the exact same spot that Rory had stepped to occupy. He
winced as his shirt wetted for the second time that day with champagne and a loss of dignity. Without
looking up to meet the golden-suited, golden-masked man's eyes, he let a shy, tiny, half-aborted
murmur slip from his lips.

“Sorry um,” he stutters, taking a step back, “Fuck, you'd be surprised how many times I've been
drenched in alcohol today it's not a fun experience uh. Hello. Fuck.”


Uncertainty spilled into his eyes and his fingers shook around his cigarette and half-full champagne
glass. He's the picture of anxiety, standing there and bringing his cigarette nervously to his lips before
putting it out on the bottom of the glass, fidgetting, anxious and grimacing with it. He couldn't meet
the angel's eyes.

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Character Portrait: Rory Daniels Character Portrait: Jacob
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It's not always easy to predict how Jacob will react. He's never been known for his stability. He's been known to laugh at one thing one moment and that same thing will cause him to explode in anger. It's a roll of the die which way he'll turn. Of course, he knows and fully embraces his rapidly changing moods. Jock has always enjoyed seeing people anxiously waiting to see how he'll act. Watching people nervously shift from foot to foot is endlessly entertaining to the Arch-angel, which was no doubt why Jock hadn't decided how to react to the clumsy human who had walked right into him. Instead Jock had simply turned his piercing eyes on the young man, a small smile curling his lips as he watched the human squirm.

“Sorry um.. Fuck, you'd be surprised how many times I've been drenched in alcohol today it's not a fun experience uh. Hello. Fuck.” The human muttered, anxiety clear in his words and actions. As the human waited for Jock to react, the Arch-angel instead used the silence to inspect the human. Even with the mask Jock didn't think that he was from the Aerie. For one thing he didn't have the house arrest bracelet, but he also didn't match any of the images Jock had for the other Aerie humans. Despite his casual treatment of the humans and the appearance that he can't tell one from the other, he actually has a rather comprehensive knowledge of the humans that call the Aerie home.

Finally, after he had let the silence stretch for an uncomfortable length of time Jock spoke. He had decided against simply ignoring the young man early on, after all he had been searching for a victim to torment. Luckily for Jock, and perhaps unluckily for Rory, one had literally walked right into him. "Well, are you going to tidy it up?" Jock asked, his eyes flicking down to the drops of alcohol that had missed the human's shirt and instead fallen on the ground. A cold smile played across his mouth. Despite phrasing the sentence as a question there was no doubt that Jock meant it as an order.

Rather than wait for the human to reply Jock reached a hand forward, pulling the cigarette out of the human's shaking hands. With the flick of his hand he threw the cigarette away, not looking or caring where or on who it landed. "You know those things will kill you." Jock said, adding a particular menacing emphasis to the word 'kill', even as his mouth formed what could have been taken as a friendly smile. His eyes glanced back down at the dropped liquid on the ground, "Any time human." He added.

Honestly, the human had got off easy. It would have been another story completely if he had managed to spill anything on Jock's clothes, or cause Jock to spill his own drink. Luckily, being an Angel, Jock was hardly going to be pushed off balance by a mere human.

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Character Portrait: Rosalie Fray
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"I have forgotten what happiness feels like. Truth is most times I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."
{| Approximately 1080 Words | Sunset | The Aerie |}





Rosalie did not have the luxury of traveling by a vehicle as others did, it was just a good
ol' fashioned walking on her two feet, but before she tried going through the gates she
took it upon herself to take a moment and contemplate everything that could possibly
go wrong. The young woman closed her eyes losing herself, even if for a brief moment,
to a secluded part inside her own mind. Rose now struggled in a wave of deep thoughts,
her heart immediately responding with agitation upon realizing that the chances that
nobody would recognize her, a former Daughter of Man, were close to non-existent.
As if things weren't bad enough, Rosalie hadn't exactly left the Aerie like the other Children
of Man during the first Resistance attack. Instead of leaving the Aerie with the havoc that
had been caused by the attack, Rosalie was being held hostage personally by a sick Angel
who had become obsessed with the blonde beauty. Having recently turned into a Fallen,
Asaliah tried to force himself one last time unto the young woman and in response, what
little remained of loyalty from his sword was completely destroyed. Just as Asaliah was
distracted by his carnal desires, Rosalie was able to take his sword, now renamed as Ghost
by Rose, and murder her feathery captor by ironically taking his life with the very same
sword that had protected him countless times.

Rosalie immediately felt sickened at the thought of going back at the Aerie, even if she had never
set foot on the new one. Truth be told that Rose had gained a lot of knowledge of the Angels or
better said, in her case, she had leaned much about them through Asaliah. Despite she had an
undeniable fear of the Angelic creatures, it was her deep hatred and anger that kept her going,
that and her loyalty for her friend back at the Aerie. Even so, she found comfort in knowing that
she would not be greatly suspected, the truth was Asaliah was not an Angel that would be
missed, he was the perfect embodiment of the word asshole, and he was mostly hated even
among his how kin which meant that even if they had found he had been murdered nobody
would have pressed into the matter any further, hell some would have even thanked Rose if they could.

Finally, upon going past the gates Rosalie's heart raced to the point of going wild, she imagined
that if someone were close enough they could probably hear her loud heartbeats which seemed
to move in compass with the Orchestra that could be heard even from outside. Unwilling to take
as much as another second of hesitation, Rosalie entered through the gates, of course after she
was closely inspected for any weapons by the security guards. It was all in a futile attempt,
Rosalie had take it upon herself to hide Ghost meticulously in a nearby spot outside in case
things went sour but she had not taken anything else knowing perfectly well how things ran in
the Aerie, or at least in the previous one for what it was worth.

Entering the main entrance and into the party, Rosalie felt self aware, eye balling herself in an
exuberant mirror that stood near the entrance and looked at her dress and her mask. For a brief
moment she shook he head, while being the escort of Asaliah she was constantly forced into
wearing such outfits, and the thought alone made her feel disgusted. Still, her task at hand was
greater, her purpose for being at back at the place that haunted her memories in the first place.
Rosalie had come back for her best friend Lindsay Price, the girl had saved her life more times
than she dare to count and had not been as fortunate as Rose had when she finally escaped
that cursed place.

Having a great deal of practice with the art of deceit, Rosalie immediately played the role that she
had set out to play while being at the Aerie, trying not to raise any suspicion of any kind while
mentally praying nobody would recognize her, she did not have the luxury to lose as much as a
minute in trying to catch up with her former coworkers or at least the ones who had been
unable to escape during the attack. All she could do was search, search and scan the room in
trying to find Lindsay all while keeping a poker face that wouldn't catch anyone's attention. While
looking for Lindsay she found herself recognizing some familiar faces, some Angels and some
Children of Man but Lindsay was nowhere to be seen. Finally, one of those familiar faces with the
form of a pinkish hair came closer gazing her with an intense glare accompanied with a tray
containing a couple of glasses with different alcoholic beverages. But, before Rosalie allowed
Ambrosia to mutter as much as a single word that could expose her, she immediately spoke with
an indifferent and cold demeanor, "I'll have some of that red wine please," the blonde girl said,
to which the fiery pink headed complied by handing her the delicate glass. Nevertheless, the
pink haired beauty could not hide her disappointment, anger and frustration when giving Rose
a nasty look, most likely furious that Rosalie had come back when she had been able to escape
all while she was still stuck on the Aerie, doing so in not knowing Rosalie's ulterior motives.
"Would that be all ma'am" Ambrosia asked, to which Rose nodded suddenly saddened and
uncomfortable being at the other side of things but mostly because she understood how
Ambrosia felt at that moment.

Even when the truth was that they had been friends before, Rosalie could not and would not risk
her mission for her, she was here for Lindsay, and Lindsay alone. All she could do now was wait
to see if Lindsay would come out to serve some wine, Rosalie had already raised enough suspicion
while interacting with Ambrosia and could not attempt to do anything else. In the mean time, she
could only think of perhaps conversing with someone else and attempt to get them to tell her any
useful information that she could use later on while going back to the real world away from this
make believe crap they had carefully planned in the form of a Ball.



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Character Portrait: Rory Daniels Character Portrait: Uriella Character Portrait: Jacob Character Portrait: Lucien
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Ella locked the bathroom door and finally let her smile drop for a moment. She had been walking around the party for quite some time with a forced smile that she had expertly made look natural. She pulled away her mask and readjusted her dress before really looking at herself in the mirror. The normally relaxed and energetic angel had been tense and exhausted for the entire night for some unknown reason. She suspected that it had something to do with the tension that she had been feeling between herself and her sword, Dyplosi, but she did not know why she was especially exhausted tonight.

Looking in the mirror, Ella gave a long sigh and began to touch up the makeup that covered the long cut that ran across the left half of her collar bone. It had healed nicely in the nine weeks since she had received it, but Ella still wondered if it would scar. 'I wonder if this is why Dyplosi seems to hate me lately,' Ella thought to herself. Maybe it was the fact that he had nearly killed her that their relationship was so strained. 'Yeah, I guess that'd strain anyone's relationship.' Ever since the attack on the Aerie, Dyplosi and Ella had been distant and their relationship was so tense that any Angel who happened to be around them could feel it. During the attack, someone -Ella was still not sure who- had taken Dyplosi and swung him toward Ella. The attacker had obviously been aiming for Ella's neck, but she had jumped away just in time for Dyplosi to drag painfully across her collar bone. The attacker had meant to swing again, but Ella had quickly grabbing Dyplosi back away from him. The wound had very nearly killed Ella, but she had lived and within a few weeks of the attack, she was back on her feet, but her relationship with her sword had seen better days. Ella pushed the thoughts and memories out of her mind and winced as she brushed her fingers along the jagged mark. She really hoped it didn't scar. It would be such a pain to have to apply makeup to it every day.

Finishing up, Ella stepped back to look at herself once more. The wound was still raised and visible, but at least it no longer the angry red, puffy mark that it had been a few weeks prior and the makeup helped considerably. Satisfied with her work, Ella gave another long sigh and put back on her usual quirked smile before turning from the mirror and unlocking the door. As she stepped back into the happiness of the gala, Ella gave a quick ruffle of her feathers, shaking as much of the tension out of them as she possibly could.

Ella walked through the small groups of people, smiling at the Angels that she passed and even allowing small smirks at the Children of Men that she came along. A server passed her and asked if she wanted a drink. She took one from the tray that he held, thanked him and then proceeded to down the drink with as much class as Ella could possibly muster. She placed the empty glass back on the tray of a passing server and strolled in no particular direction.

Her aimless wondering brought Ella across a Son of Man in the middle of twisting his knuckles into an Angel's ribs. Ella quickly recognized the Angel's wings and blond hair to be those of the Archangel Jacob. Her brow furrowed and she strode briskly over to the pair just as another Son of Man -though Ella could sense that he was not just another Son of Man- came upon the scene as well.

Ella came to a stop at Jacob's side, making sure to keep her dress out of the spilt liquid on the floor in front of him, and glared at the Son of Man, scrutinizing him. Was this human an idiot? He must be if he had the audacity to punch an Angel -an Archangel at that... and Jacob of all the Archangels. Ella looked from Jacob to the human and then back to Jacob before speaking to no one in particular. "I almost want to know what you said to this human to make him loss any sense he had and punch an Archangel." Ella then looked the Son of Man up and down. He was not bad looking and Jacob killing him would certainly put a damper on Ella's already stressed psyche. As the other, dark haired human -or whatever he might be- spoke to Jacob, Ella turned to the angered Son of Man and flashed him her award-winning smile. "Look, Jock's an asshole, as you clearly know by now, but I think you're gonna want to leave pretty soon," she said under his breathe, hoping that he would understand and leave.

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Character Portrait: Ashlynn Seriess Mucci Character Portrait: Raziel
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{About 335 Words | Sunset | Aerie/Raziel's Room}









The room seemed pretty peaceful from Ashlynn's point of view. He was leaning against the window sill with a cigarette to his lips like always. Such a awful habit he had taken up many years ago and never seemed to tried to stop had to be his smoking problem, for some reason he just found joy from the small stick of nicotine. "Isn't that bad for humans?" A small smirk and a one syllable silent chuckle released from him, how could he not after a remark of sass? "It psychological settles my nerves." Huffing out a puff of smoke he then turned to face the other voice in the room.

Raziel momentarily had her back turned to him as she fixed her hair. She was a beautiful girl, incredibly stunning in both mind and body, which in fact had brought Ashlynn to her side. Unlike some other angels she was kind and actually cared about humans, to the point that she was letting Ashlynn stay with her while he was undercover in the Aerie. The way the two had come together to this companionship was different, strange. In fact the two had met when he had first been kidnapped, she was the first angel to show him kindness on both of his arrivals to the Aerie.

"Sometimes I forget you even have emotions, Ashly." "I've just never had the urge to indulge in what you'd like to call fun." For a split second he had caught her glance at his reflections, before returning her gaze back at herself. It felt like she had been getting ready for ages, maybe because she was a woman. "It feels like you've been doing your hair for ages, Raz, will you ever be done?" At this remark she turned out to completely face him him with a warm smile. "I'll be done when I'm done, just wait." Like always her voice was always as sweet as honey and tasty warm.

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Character Portrait: Ashlynn Seriess Mucci Character Portrait: Raziel
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{About 312 Words | Sunset | The Aerie/Raziel's Room | Collaboration with Onica-Louis}




Raziel leaned towards the mirror again. She attempted to pull up her hair in a fashion that would disguise the fact that she had absolutely no talent when it came to arranging hair. This wasn't something that she would mind on a normal occasion, but today was different. It was the first step in what could potentially be a truce between Human and Angel. More immediately, Raz adored Masquerade parties, the feigned mystery and beautiful outfits tended to make the aura lighthearted and exhilarating. Her starry wings ruffled in annoyance as her crafted hair flopped around her shoulders once again, the clips scattered on the vanity at which she had been sitting.

Hearing an annoyed sigh come from behind her, she turned her body to face the handsome man that had taken residence in her room, which was an arduous task in the dress she had selected. Raz attempted a hurt expression, but utterly failed to keep the smile from her face as she insisted, "Ashly, I have half a mind to claim you just so I can return you." This was, of course, entirely false. She enjoyed Ash's company and his musings were almost always captivating, though on occasion he'd mention some human thing she had never heard of before. To the other angels, she pretended as though she kept him around, when in reality, he was free to come and go as he pleases. However, it made her endlessly happy when he chose to stay.

With a slight tsk of her tongue, she just let her hair fall in their graceful curls. "Give it to me straight, " she said as she put the mask over her face. The string was loose, so it slipped down her nose and around her neck. She let out a short burst of laughter.

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Character Portrait: Rory Daniels Character Portrait: Uriella Character Portrait: Jacob Character Portrait: Lucien
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Jock watched in amusement as his words sunk in, noting the change in emotions that crossed the young man's partially concealed face. With what appeared to be a 'snap' of emotions, the human cracked. His arm drew back, fingers clenched into a fist, and then his fist connected with Jock's ribs. "Say that again, motherfucker, I dare you." The human snarled.
Jock would have been lying if he didn't concede that the punch had hurt, although perhaps 'hurt' would have been a slight exaggeration. And Jock would never actually admit to being injured by a human. As it was, the punch was more of an uncomfortable pressure than anything else, or at least that was all that Jock would admit to.

Although being punched was far from the top of his wish list, he couldn't help but find the whole situation amusing. After all, it wasn't everyday that some deluded human lost his or her anger at Jock and decided to settle it with fists. More like a monthly occurrence for the Arch-angel. Perhaps at another time, in a different situation Jock might have been angrier, he'd certainly had limbs cut off and humans caged for doing far less. But, luckily for the masked human, Jock appeared to be in a forgiving mood (or at least as forgiving as you could expect from Jock). A small smile flickered across his face as he looked at the human. "You know, I almost felt that." Jock said, his tone irritatingly condescending. His hand came up to lightly brush the targeted spot. It was perhaps slightly more tender than normal, but Jock wasn't about to admit that.

Before he could speak again, possibly with some order for the human, the pair were joined by a darked haired man. Jock didn't recognise him by appearance right away, Lucien was hardly someone that Jock regularly thought about and his face was partially obscured, but the name came to him as soon as the Fallen Angel started to speak. "Excuse my companion... I'm afraid he doesn't know how to conduct himself in certain company. It won't happen again, I assure you. No harm done?"
Jock didn't reply for a moment, his eyes wondering over the Fallen Angel before glancing back to the human. It hardly mattered to Jock whether this human was his companion or not, Lucien's threat was only minimal at the current moment. Jock would have easily gone through the Fallen Angel had the need arisen. However, the night was young and Jock was prepared to let the incident go (his mind was already turning towards the multitudes of alcohol floating around).

Before Jock could reply another figure joined the rapidly growing group, this one an Angel of Jacob's acquaintance. Ella, dressed in a stunning gown and mask, appeared at his side. "I almost want to know what you said to this human to make him loss any sense he had and punch an Archangel." She said to Jock as she eyed the human in question.
"It's my charismatic demeanour, people tend to go a little crazy when I'm around." he replied in a careless drawl, flashing a sly smirk at the human.
Ella turned her attention to the human, flashing him a stunning smile, "Look, Jock's an ass-hole, as you clearly know by now, but I think you're gonna want to leave pretty soon," She told him. Jock raised his eyebrows, pretending to be mock insulted by Ella's name calling. However, rather than try to defend the accusation he simply shrugged. It was true after all and he wasn't in the mood to pretend otherwise.

While Jock didn't take offense to Ella's words, it appeared that Lucien did. Although, it was safe to assume that Lucien was offended by the angel's appearance on the scene and not the name calling.
"This human won't be leaving as I've already taken full responsibility for his behaviour. May his actions be of his own from now on but for this action he will not be charged. If I find him out on his ass be mindful that I'll have no problem putting you out on yours." Lucien said before moving on. Jacob listened, his mind skipping over the warning and instead only hearing the challenge. His smirk became a wolfish grin as he watched Lucien's receding back, then as the Fallen Angel disappeared amongst the crowd Jacob turned his attention back to the Son of Man.
"Well, what'll it be? Are you going to run after your master?" He asked, the wolfish smile on his face taking a more predatory appearance, "Or is little Johnny old enough to play with the big kids."

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Character Portrait: Ashlynn Seriess Mucci Character Portrait: Raziel
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Sorry, wrong place.

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Character Portrait: Gaige Walden Character Portrait: Amelia Jasper
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{1,583 words | Sunset | The Aerie }





In a small shed-like structure situated a mile away from where tonight's party was being held, a short-statured young woman clicked on a video camera attached to a tripod, pulled up a chipped wooden stool, and took a seat. She stared at the camera for a few seconds, her eyes making out the reflection of herself resonating upon the lens. Before she began, she turned down the volume on her boombox, which was playing a staticky version of Dexy's Midnight Runners's "Come On Eileen" in the background.

"Gaige Walden's log, day fourteen, approximately 5:10 pm."

She sighed, and then continued on. Her voice seemed somewhat strained. However, it still produced an oddly charming, deep, and bright tone to her words.

"Today was a very mediocre day. Research was mostly unfruitful, although I did manage to draw up some formulas for elixirs, as well as produce some new ideas. I'll talk about those ideas later. Right now I'll go over details about project A.W.D.R.F., or Angel Wing DNA Reproduction Formula. It's coming along...alright." She blew a few strands of crimson red hair away from her face, and then continued. "I realize that in order to continue, I'm going to need blood samples from the angels. With all that's going on, however, I know persuading them is going to be an indescribable challenge..."

She gazed out a small window to her right, and inhaled a large quantity of sawdust-tainted air. If only she wasn't a human. If only she wasn't the minority - the scapegoat in this world of prejudiced winged monsters...then things would be much easier to achieve. After a brief moment of silence, she went on,"As for new ideas, I'm thinking of doing research on the angels' weapons; see what causes bonds and how they manipulate the bonds in their swords and whatnot. As for my personal life, I'm starting to get accustomed to everything on the Aerie. Life's getting easier, although I'm feeling more and more cramped in this tiny little space every day..." She looked around, laughing at how she had barely enough room to fit a bed. She had had to occupy a small sleeping bag kept in the far right hand corner of the shed. It was the only place where she could put it. Her laughter soon died down, and with a small exhale, Gaige pointed her gaze toward the dusty wooden floor.

"Oliver still hasn't given me any other orders yet..."

Oliver, Oliver Snow. Her leader. The face of the Resistance. He had sent Gaige into the Aerie to become a spy. She had obeyed his strategic orders, and traveled up into the angels' new headquarters without any complaints, bargains, or petitions. She had gone the extra mile - creating a new name and using her talents to mold a completely different identity. After two weeks, he hadn't supplied her with any new information. The positive part of Gaige's conscience reminded her that Oliver was a busy man. This silence and solitude on her end of the line was only a part of protocol. He was probably up to his knees with new strategies and battle plans. (the physical combat-stuff that Gaige couldn't do.)

The dark part of Gaige's conscience told her that Oliver hadn't given her any new info because he had simply stranded her, and was leaving her to die.

Her shoulders ached, as they had become tense with grief and other heavy emotions. Quickly, she ended her video log, and turned off the camera. She buried her head in her hands, and then turned towards the small window pane that projected gossamer-like light from outside. There was a party going on in some sort of manor right in the middle of the Aerie. The multicolored light that flickered every so often lucidly entailed that there would be fireworks. Fireworks meant festivity. Festivity meant something big. Gaige was extremely tired from her toiling research, and desperately wanted to sleep in. However, this was Gaige Walden, and there was no way she was going to let the chance to see the angels display their culture in a blatant manner pass by.

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First, Gaige would need something to wear, as she had no party dresses that would supply her the amount of formality she required for this social gala. Walking at a brisk pace, she practically flew across the slums of the Aerie, making sure not to glance at the human slaves who glared at her in a creepy manner. She felt sorry for them, of course, as she was one of them in a past life, but she knew that staring would only make things more awkward. (not to mention it would draw unwanted suspicion and tension towards herself.) Passing a square, she glanced to her left, suddenly becoming enraptured by the powerful marble statue nearby. She knew that face as though it were printed on the back of her hand - she had studied it multiple times before coming to the Aerie. It was the archangel Michael, martyr of the angels' arrival to earth. His death had started all of this; the murders, the kidnappings, the apocalypse, the wasteland that was civilization. The death of one creature meant the death of many others. Holding back tension in the back of her eyes that felt like hot tears, Gaige continued on her merry-turned-somber way.

She entered a quaint-looking boutique, picked out a clearance marked dress that was floor-length, and tried it on behind a wooden screen that served as a changing station. It looked like it had come out of a museum. Gaige didn't mind though - she preferred the old to the new, the ancient to the modern. Although people would judge her, she wouldn't judge herself, and that was all that mattered in her strangely knit mind. After picking out a scaly-looking mask, she made her way over to the cashier - an older looking angel woman who had a jaunty smile plastered upon her freckled face. However, despite her artificial appearance, Gaige couldn't help but notice the way she glanced up and down, as if inspecting the redheaded woman's physique. Gaige cleared her throat, and then presented the items to the woman.

"Just this, please."
The angel gingerly inspected the dress and mask, pressing her gaze to Gaige's afterwards.
"That will be 200."
Gaige raised a brow, and checked the price tags once again.
"No, that's wrong... it should be 150. The dress is 100 exactly, and the mask..."
Suddenly, the woman tightly gripped Gaige's wrist, and leaned in closer, shooting daggers from her eyes.
"Look, I don't want to scare my customers away. I don't want to make a huge scene over this, either. You will pay 200, or I am going to have to ask you to leave."
Realizing what was happening and why the lady was charging her more for a dress that didn't belong to her kind, Gaige firmly nodded, trying to suppress the anger inside of her that might show upon her face. She payed the amount the lady charged her for, grabbed the items, and left.
"Have a great day." the woman said, her bright voice hiding traces of dark undertones.

After changing in her shed, Gaige made her way to the manor. It was brighter than she thought it would be. She had already attended two Aerie parties already, but clearly they did not compare to the spectacle of this one. She felt as though she were living in some sort of dream. Maybe it was more of a nightmare when putting reality into the picture, but the facade of it all made the situation seem otherwise. Everything was soft, metallic, edgy, spicy, loud...Gaige could see a plethora of words form on the inside of her forehead as she passed through the multitude of wings and elegant gowns. There was definitely a poem that would be written later tonight. She entered the elaborate building, making sure to keep a proper composure, as well as a small smile across her face. Faces flashed through her vision like the slowed-down reels of a movie. However, none of them were of interest. She was about ready to turn around and ask the nearest servant where the bar was located, until she finally saw someone who she recognized.

Although there was a gorgeous mask hiding a few of her facial features, Gaige knew she was staring at Amelia Jasper, the one and only. If Amelia was here, then the Resistance was here. If the Resistance was here, there would be an attack tonight.

Gaige wanted to draw her attention, but she couldn't make herself do anything other than stare. How would she have a conversation about the Resistance and the probable attack without drawing attention? She needed to know about Oliver, and what his orders were. In fact, she needed to know about her own orders, and what she was going to do next atop the Aerie.

So Gaige just stared, not moving at all. Because she remained petrified, a human servant carrying a tray of empty glasses bumped into her. From the collision, glass shattered onto the floor, and flew in every direction imaginable. Some tiny particles even penetrated through Gaige's wrist, but she was too busy being embarrassed by the situation to notice the fresh blood oozing from her forearm. If there was one thing she didn't want to do upon seeing Amelia, it was attract attention.

Now, every eye in the room was pointed in her direction.