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Violet Khiara

"I'm a child, I'm a mother. I'm a sinner, I'm saint. I do not feel ashamed."

0 · 808 views · located in New Orleans, Louisiana

a character in “The Witching Hr”, as played by LivyGrey


"She's a natural disaster, she's the last of the American girls!"

Full Name: Violet Jane Khiara ”Violet Jane, that’s me but don’t call me that,”
Nickname: Khi ”Don’t assume you can call me it, it’s for friends but you can call me Khi if I like you,”
Age:18 ”What are you? My stalker?”
Gender:Female”I’d like to think this one’s obvious to be perfectly honest,”
Sexuality:Bisexual ”If you’re hot, you’re hot. I’m not going to question it because who actually gives?”
Race:Witch ”That’s right I’m a witch bitch.”
Power:Phasing”I’m basically intangible, I can pass through things like a ghost, disappear, travel somewhere else, reappear, reorder my particles and shit like that,”
Birthday:14-02 ”I’m a Valentine’s babe.”
Home Town: Alabama ”Sweet home Alabama, something about coming home to you,”
Biological Parents: Unknown”I grew up in an orphanage which was pretty shit because I got bullied a lot but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger right?”
Personality: Khi is point blank, bat shit insane. She doesn’t know what she’s doing or where she is half of the time and the other half she’s sleeping. She breezes through life by going with the flow and she rolls like a stone without a care in the world about herself or lifestyle. She’s not one to stress and if she feels it coming on, she’ll go listen to music, smoke or have a drink (or all three). She believes that everything should be about achieving an equilibrium- a permanent state of content and calamity- a brilliant normality. She’s ridiculously chilled out and if she’s arguing with you or starting a fight, it’s in the defence of something or someone else, she doesn’t tend to bother fighting for herself because she doesn’t care about what people think of her- unless there’s violence, she won’t tend to bother retaliating. However, Khi has an especially short temper at times and she is often sharp-tongued if you catch her in a foul mood. She’s feisty and she’ll always be the first person to defend a victim, no matter who they are if she personally likes them or not, she’ll defend someone in trouble. Khi thinks this part of her personality roots from how no one ever did that for her when she was a kid and how much she wishes someone had, so it's always been a priority in Khi's life to defend those weaker than herself or in need. She's also a massively infamous protester- everyone knows her as the girl with a billboard and marker pen. She goes all guns blazing for animals right and equality, she thinks everyone deserves to get the most of their life on Earth before they get sentence to infinity in a void of darkness and nothingness- she thinks this time is precious and everyone should be able to savour it without fear, poverty or emotional stress.

Khi is also vegetarian and refuses to wear, use or benefit from animal sourced products- sheep skin, wool, leather- none of it. Everything she wears is faux because her love for life runs to deep in her veins to take it away from another animal for the sake of having something extra on to cover her flesh. She's strong-minded when it comes to this and she won't consume any meat under any situation. She'd sooner die than eat a sausage. However she won't go Vegan because it'd degrade her value of life because she knows her health would be effected and she believes in making the most out of life. However she won't eat 'eggs' or anything that could have been a potential life under different circumstances.

Khi is really protective and the people she loves and cares for, she'd do anything for them in the whole wide world (except eat meat). She'll never not fight in your corner if she's loyal to you and if you care for her, she cares for you. She's an affectionate, friendly person most of the time but has a colder side to people she doesn't take warmly too and she isn't afraid to show her opinions- she'll rant and ramble about her opinions all day if she had someone who genuinely wanted to hear them but she doesn't force her views on other people. She doesn't believe in that, she thinks everyone has a right to their own individual idealogical view and to draw their own conclusion on every matter that one can ponder over. She doesn't think people have the right to dictate other people's views and opinions- this is why she doesn't promote hers but rather expresses them productively for the greater good or benefit of someone else.”No freedom till we're equal. Damn right I support it,”

ImageImageAppearance: Khi is quirky but somewhat attractive and in her own very unusual way, she is actually quite pretty. Khi has rippling blue eyes, the colour of a rich tropical lagoon and they're the perfect almond shape and typically wide. She has a long, thin nose and slender face. Khi has a petite, slender figure and coming in at an average height but slowly below average weight, she knows she ought to eat more and more healthily but that's a vegetarian problem. She has a snowy, 'English Rose' like skin tone which comes from her Mother who's of an English descent- that's all Khi knows about her that she was English. Khi doesn't really tend to wear make-up unless she's going out with friends or to do something, her skin's fairly clear so it doesn't tend to worry her too much unless she has a break-out then it's more than likely she'll whip out her brushes and foundation but this happens very rarely. Khi is self-confident so she's no stranger to skirts, shorts, dresses and quite likes having her legs out since she considers them one of her best features, if not her best. She loves going bare-foot and loathes shoes but she'll wear them when necessary but if she could never wear shoes again, she would. Khi's fashion sense consists of hippie, indie and grunge like designs but it tends to vary a lot from day-to-day and the occasion of course. However, it's very rare she isn't wearing some kind of shorts or a dress and she's prone to wearing POP culture t-shirts or band merchandise, she loves the whole distressed looks and she probably doesn't own a pair of jeans that aren't shredded all over or in some way or form, distressed. She's also prone to wearing shit loads of bracelets and rings but she's slowly dropping out of that habit but it's still a common occurrence to see her geared up with jewellery. Then there is obviously her hair. Khi is obsessed with hair-dye and there basically isn't a colour she hasn't had her hair, it's currently dyed like a 'rainbow' as shown in the pictures above but she's already planning to dye it again, she just doesn't know how yet. "I'm a goddess on my knees, you know!"

So begins...

Violet Khiara's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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"If I'm a bad person, you don't like me,"

Violet fluttered through the town with an appearance that reminded people of butterflies or unicorns. Her hair was rainbow streaked and teased by the wind as she hurried through the town. In what might be frowningly described as 'short' shorts and a floaty blouse, she felt quite free and elegant as she made her way through the crowds in town. She didn't know what she was looking for but she was looking for something as her exposed long pale legs guided her through an unfamiliar town. She'd lived there for quite a while but she had only been into the town half a dozen times and the sights and routes still confused her and were sketchy in her memory as she passed down different avenues and streets.

She'd lived in town for maybe seven months now, she couldn't pin point exactly how long she'd been there but she could say she'd taken an instant liking to the place, everything felt so unusual and mysterious which she appreciated and there was also the factor that she hadn't fucked up here. No history, no ties, no reputation- she could just be herself and hopefully, nothing would go wrong this time.

She unconsciously walked past the magnificent Academy on her route to town and though she noticed and spent a long moment giving the architecture an adoring stare, she didn't let it divert her from her mission to get into town and find something worth splashing out on. She was bored as ever so she was desperate to find a way to waste her time or money, or in the best of circumstances- both. She was one of those people who couldn't stand boredom which was maybe why her hair covered the entire light spectrum or why her skin was pierced with metal rings.

She kicked a forgotten, battered and quite clearly lost dog ball from under her feet with a black Chelsea boot and she sighed softly. There wasn't a worse feeling in the world, than boredom because if you're bored you don't even feel anything really, it's just total vacancy and withdrawal and that was her trial of thought as she stumbled and made her way down the littered dark road.Image She kind of danced down the street despite her low mood and frequently had to keep moving her hair from her face to her own complete and utter frustration but despite the impracticality, she loved it. Her hair was her pride and joy, she dyed it with the most expensive dyes so it always looked bright and didn't fade or get screwed over, she used expensive shampoos to hold the colour and she was constantly getting treatments for it. She just completely treasured every last strand of it- in the least vain way possible.

Her hand dived into her back pocket and retrieved a white carton and she flicked it open, removing the toxic poison between two fingers and placing it between her tight pink lips, holding it there with her teeth whilst she swapped the carton for a lighter and flicked releasing a lashing flame. She lit the cigarette quickly and without problem before taking it back between the tips of two pale fingers and raised it up to her mouth again to take a long, slow drag of the smoke. Image As she continued walking she eyed a cafe, it seemed nice enough and they had outdoor seating which is what sold the idea of stopping for a coffee to her. She waited outside for five or so minutes to cherish her cigarette and then once the best of it was smoked and in internally damaging her, she took a few steps into the cafe and made her way to the till making an order for a large double-shot coffee and helping herself to an unholy amount of sugar from the side to add to it. She drank the coffee scolding hot and it didn't bother her much, it probably ought to but the temporary sting that was soon replaced by the strong angry taste of strong coffee made the slight burn more than worth while.

She sat down in a metal chair which had a vine-like design crafted into it and she rested her legs on the table before her as she relaxed, sipping from her cup like she didn't have a care in the world but her expression was ridiculously thoughtful all the same as she pondered over how to slay the endless, infinite sense of boredom assaulting her. She had one idea.

One, terrible, terrible idea.


She sussed she could get away with a small amount, so setting her cup down on the table, she rest her palm against the top and stared at it intently as she tried to make an educated guess on how likely she was to get caught if she did but before she'd given it a second thought, she allowed her hand to disappear and sink through the table as easily as air. She smiled at the sight and performed the same action in reverse this time giggling softly at herself like it was a brilliant joke but when she turned her sharp and alert gaze upwards, she noticed a group of teenagers approaching the coffee store and quickly stopped. Returning her hand to her coffee cup like she was as normal as anyone else there.

Sorry! I think I accidentally tagged someone in this!

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Pell Laveau

What was it about the snags in her mentality that left her on either end of a bipolar spectrum at any given moment? Pell peered into the sky with mild disinterest. The height of her cheeks glowed under Louisiana sunlight, warm April days making every moment feel like a summery inferno. Her stride along paved walkways was melodic, a sort of slowed cat walk. It was elegant, even dangerously sexy, as she once heard a man say to her mother. Pulling her lavender hair into her hands, taking its length into the air and letting it fall all around her face and shoulders, Pell sighed.

She made no friends. She didn’t want friends. Jacqueline was all she really needed and… Well there was Kyle, he kept Pell level and even a little more gentle and kind. ‘Course Hale wasn’t such a bad addition to the pathetic and miniature social circle, either. But Pell found it increasingly difficult to stand people let alone listen to them talk. It was getting to a dangerous, volatile point. She felt herself slipping up almost twice a day with these unsettling and morbid urges. Wanting to light someone on fire or bleed them out a little so that she could experiment in the likes of voodoo. The terrifying urges often left her lastingly guarded with a shield charm, so that anyone in the school with half a brain couldn’t peer into hers. If they did, they might find something worth going to Council about, something worth losing sleep over. Self control was on its deathbed. Pell fought like hell but there was wickedness at play. Who was she becoming? Better yet, what?

A cigarette was held between her teeth when she rounded the first corner onto Applegate street, just by the pinnacle cafe in town. String lights dangled between buildings, the aroma of home made goods in the air as she passed beneath them and took a slow drag from the smoke. The upper atmosphere stretched its blue away, orange haze annexing the white natural light that was alive only just a few minutes ago. It gave a tangerine-colored radiance to the dynamic center village. Pell pulled the grocery list from her pocket, scanning it and figuring it was best to conquer that first, since the signs of daylight were fading and she couldn’t be late to Ceremony. With a flick of her digits, the cigarette was discarded and her silhouette disappeared into a butcher’s shop.

The index of stores and delis she had to visit simply to appease the demands of academy staff and the supreme was kind of mind-blowing. Generally Kyle would hobble into the stores and do all the dirty work, but Pell knew he felt similar to Frankenstein when seen in public. Which is why she didn’t mind handling the majority of the ‘outing chores’. However, once she reemerged from the last destination, plastic bags weighing into the skin of her wrist and leaving aches in her muscles, she thought of how she really could have used his help. He loved tours, loved the sense of purpose it gave him, and there was promise of new hope and talent, even friendship with fresh faces. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to show someone around rather than go out in public and be an errand boy. It was difficult to stop off and grab a last minute outfit for Ceremony, though, being that she had no free hands. Irritably she snagged pieces from the racks, paid and left with a huff on her lips.

Peach colored streaks above were fading into ominous purple by the time Pell was on her way out of the small town, passing the darling coffee shop on the corner again. Pell nearly tripped and dropped all her groceries when she saw a companionless girl with polychromatic hair, her porcelain hand passing through the vineyard design of the table she sat at. Survival instincts kicked in viciously. Pell flailed, and stumbled over her, shielding her in a way, eyes wide as she hoarsely whispered, “Have you never heard of the Hawthornes or Delphi? You could have gotten killed,” Pell’s grayish eyes flitted as she scanned the area, “Someone could be watching. There are people out there, that are waiting for the right opportunity to hunt people who do the shit you just did.”

She took the girl by the wrist, pulling her from the chair with such a spontaneous burst of intuition that it might have singed the girl's skin. Another witch. Just roaming, tempting her fate. “Don’t ask questions, for now.” Pell breathed calmly finally, hauling the stranger back toward the academy with her and not stopping until she reached the gates. What was this? Why was Pell going all Mama Coven all the sudden? Pausing, she pivoted to release the bewildered girl whose hair glowed under the grand lamplight of the academy. “This is a place where we… You know…” She kind of fumbled with words, letting her head fall back as she exhaled deeply, mind rampant with chaos. The bags tugged at her limbs as she struggled to bear their weight. She turned to face the large ivory building, a warning bell sounding from inside. An hour to Ceremony. “Are you hungry, would you want to come in for dinner?” A giant grin nipped at Pell’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at the girl and began walking toward the front door, an invitation that had riddle and enticement written all over it. "You can be who you really are in here, not have to hide it."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by zeph_gm
The Pink haired girl hadn't been the only one to notice the witches careless display of magic. Forcing your had through an object was nothing exactly flamboyant, but it was surely something that would get you noticed, and humans were the least of that witches problems. Decimus stood in the cool of a shop front, some grocery store, revelling in the cool interior. Not that it truly helped much, and a bead of sweat still dripping down his temple from his hairline, running down his cheek and dissipating along his chin.
"Why, why do they always live in hot places. Just once I would like to hunt somewhere where it is cool." He muttered to himself as he watched the violet haired girl drag off the rainbow haired one.
"You'll be happy for the heat when you start losing blood." Said a woman's voice from the back of his mind.
"Shut up!" He snapped, startling a nearby employee who cautiously moved away. He sighed, he really needed to stop doing that, it did little to prevent him getting noticed. Another Employee, a woman with a tie, probably a manager or some sort approached him, cautious of the man in the strange clothes.
"Excuse me sir, can I help you with anything?" She asked tersely, clearly keen to see him gone.
He turned and flashed her a toothy grin, "Just browsing, Thank you."
The obvious lie made ever the more obvious by the fact he wasn't even looking at the shelves, but the two girls walking away down a side street.
"I don't think you can help me with what I need." He said, turning and exiting the cool shop and into the oppressive heat of the Louisiana afternoon. "But I think I know who can." He muttered as he made haste after the girl with the violet hair.

He followed at a distance, The violet one clearly too preoccupied berating the rainbow girl to notice his pursuit. Wherever she was taking her, it was good news. Witches and Warlocks rarely lived alone, unless they were, like Decimus, prone to murderous tendencies. The Majority lived in communal groups, or "Covens". Decimus found the whole thing rather boring. He understood the practicality of learning how to better harness your gifts, his mother had introduced him to many other travelling Haemomancers during his childhood who had taught him various tricks and skills. However he couldn't understand the desire to stay in one place for your whole life, living with the same people, doing the same thing every day. Life was short, especially for Haemomancers, and to waste but a single day was tantamount to the greatest of sins.
That brought a chuckle to his lips.
As if he were in a place to berate anyone on their sins.
The Girls reached the gate of an Estate, and turned to talk. The violet one appeared to be inviting Rainbow girl inside. Considering she had just all but dragged her here, the sentiment seemed lost. This was all Decimus needed to see. Where there was one witch, there would be others. Decimus had already eaten today, even if it was just a mortal. He would wait and stake out the Coven, and pick his choice of the delicacies available.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Arturo DeGari Character Portrait: Althea Cambridge
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//sorry I was gone so long, my grandpa died and I needed some time with the family. I have caught up on the posts since I left and will try my best to remain active.

Rather than going around making friends or dealing with ceremony -whatever the hell that is- Bambi decided to scurry back to her room and pretend she never met Madison. Pretend that the lavender-haired beauty had never seen her... Pretend she was home with her kid brother making fried ice-cream sandwiches.

She shuffled past many people, rather embarrassed that she had been so clueless. -Coward. say thank you to that nice girl. she bothered to tell you there wasn't class; which is more than I can say for the rest of these freaks.- Her mom's voice whispered in her ear.

"Shut up, bitch. You aren't even real." Bambi whispered to the voice scratching away at her sanity. She already had to listen to the booming voices of an entire school, the last thing that Bambi needed was a scolding from her dead mother. She ran outside of the crowded school. Bambi nodded at the occasional student -If only someone had bothered to tell you whether or not attendance at this so called ceremony is required. Looks like you will have to start up a conversation.- Her mom jested, causing Bambi to stop in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Pell, dragging along another girl she didn't recognize. Having already bothered Pell once today, Bambi went in search of someone else, anyone else...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Bambi (Jess) Soullet Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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"She seems them walking in a straight line, that's not really her style,"

Khi's instant response to release herself from the grip and in order to free herself from the intense grasp of the strange girl, she let her hand phase through the skin but she did follow quickly and steadily after her because the girl had recognised what she'd done which meant she knew something about herself that Violet had to find out. She kept up with her gripping on her bag to her thigh to prevent it from flying around especially since it was such a heavy weight with her purse and her possessions in, though the bag's recklessly flight was nothing compared to the way psychedelic hair got wind-swept behind her, constantly chasing after her body until they stopped at a large set of gates and Violet turned to her with a slight glare that dropped when she saw how friendly and welcoming the girl's expression was.

"What the hell was that?" She asked with an arched brow momentarily disregarding the question about dinner. She stared at her ever so confused and her electric eyes buzzing thoughtfully and eccentrically as she tried to piece together where she was and what was going on. She turned in a circle on the spot, staring at what was around her- at the academy and it's grandeur. It was almost enduring or intimidating to encounter such a divine location- coming from an average background being invited into buildings like this was a dream to her or a foolish wish. She took in a breath and couldn't help chuckling a little as she looked up at the girl with heliotrope her, she wouldn't announce it just yet since it'd seem more than inappropriate but she did admire the girl's taste in hair dye but she had a wacky and peculiar taste in fashion herself. She pondered over the girl's question as she ran a hand through her multicoloured hair and caught her breath "I guess it'd give you an opportunity to explain why I feel like I've just been abducted off the streets- which would be sweet if you could explain why you've done that by the way," She added biting her tongue slightly creasing her pierced nose slightly as she pulled a thoughtful expression.

She looked around and noticing over people dappled around the area, a couple of girls and the more she looked the more people she'd spy and she figured it must be boarding house of some kind because under whatever situation would so many teenagers and young adults live under one roof?

Her mind instantly swamped with all kinds of questions, thoughts, theories, hypothesis', conclusions, guesses, hopes and fears about the place she was in and she didn't know what to voice first after making her confusion and obliviousness to their situation known. As she continued to pace a little within a one meter radius, stepping a little bit further into the area each minute she turned her head sharply and looked at the indigo haired girl who'd practically dragged her here like she was saving her from a tsunami of racing, angry, cannibal bulls. "Sorry to be blunt but what the hell is this place? Are you part of some kind of freaky ass cult or something?" She looked at her with an amused wide grin as she ran a hand through her tousled crazy hair and laughed softly at their situation- it was just so bizarre, two girls with quirky hair, in an opulent house after one saw the other perform an impossible trick and oh yeah- their strangers and there's no discomfort in the conversation at all despite the fact, they've just ran down a high street like they were about to be mugged by gangsters and had no idea who each other were. Yet, like always Violet took crazy in her stride and looked at the girl, her brow slightly quirked as she shut her trap for a moment to give the other girl long enough to even comprehend her questions and formulate an answer to give.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Aden Orchau
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ıllıllı ⓚⓨⓛⓔ ⓢⓟⓔⓝⓒⓔⓡ ıllıllı

Kyle gave tours a lot. A lot more than one would probably think. But despite giving tours to every newcomers that stops by, Kyle hardly ever knew where to start. Should he just start in the main entrance way, despite it being obvious that that was the entrance? Should he show the important places first and then go to all the knooks and crannies? Or should he just go to the next room and work his way around like a snake? Some people liked it one way and other liked it another, often times getting confused and having to ask again where the bathrooms were if Kyle ended up switching the two preferred ways of learning around. It was all very complicated to the young man, and it may not seem like much to just point and say what the room was, Kyle took it extremely seriously. Far more seriously than probably what was good for him.

He even had drawn out a small route on a picture of the basic floor plan to try and figure it out.

But they were starting in a weird spot this time. They weren't entering the house or passing the main gate. They were in the student hall already, which was almost always the last place Kyle showed. He liked showing their room last because that way they can unpack as soon as they felt somewhat familiar with the house. But this is simply backwards. Silas already knew his room and dropped off his stuff, and now Kyle was at a loss trying to figure out where to end this small journey and how to end it on a good note.

But first things were always first.

ImageAfter the small trio made their way out of Pell's room and into a less busy section of the student hallway, Kyle turned to Silas, flicking a thick curl of blonde hair away. He held his hand out flat, palm facing the floor and he swiped it back and forth slightly as if to level the air out. "First." The first floor that is. "Second floor." The f was a little delayed but it was fine, really. But Kyle held his other hand above the first, leveling out the particles in the air in the same manner as the first. "Students." He said with a hint of a smile. Before, Kyle had always said kids, because that was easy, but he recently had been forcing himself to use the correct terms. So 'student' was a new term he taught himself, at least speaking wise. Kyle, once he had stopped moving the second hand, removed his first hand from the 'first floor' and placed it over top of the second story. "Students." Silas could figure out the age system later. He didn't need to know that right at this moment.

Finally, Kyle placed the second story hand over top of the third story hand for the final floor of the building. "Fourth floor, Staff." Staff was clearly much harder to verbalize, seeing as the 'a' was long and somehow the 'f's gained a soft 'r' sound, but it was good enough.

No, no it wasn't, actually.

" Staff." Kyle corrected himself, erasing the invisible 'r' this time around. The 'a' remained long.

He figured that that was a good place to start. Knowing which floor was generally used for what was good, basic information. Now the layout of the rest of his home would make at least a little more sense. The undead took only a moment out of his internal clock to wait for Silas' confirmation that he understood. But after that, Kyle didn't waste a second, seeing as he turned around and headed for the stairs.

There wasn't a whole lot going on down in the main entry way, seeing as Pell had already left for the store and all the commotion earlier had fizzled out. This didn't surprise Kyle at all, seeing as he was used to socialization generally being spontaneous and short lived. So Kyle didn't spend much time in the main entry way. Silas could figure what it was on his own. If he couldn't then Kyle would have some concerns. But they merely went by several of the basic rooms, the the large living area, the bathrooms, all of which only needed a title and thus only got as much.

But the three hit the dining room and Kyle stopped and starred. The table was set up for the five course meal that they all would have at 7, but of course the candles weren't lite and the plates and silverware weren't out yet. That was his job when the time came to it. There was a lot that Kyle wanted to say about the room, most of it having to do with ceremony, but as he stood there for several sends, he tried to filter out as much as possible as to not confuse the young man.

He should mention that ceremony is tonight, for sure. And he should probably tell him that it's at 7 and they'll eat in the dining room first. Those were a must. But he should probably leave the actual schedule of ceremony out. It'll generally be obvious once it starts, and he could always ask questions later. He should also mention wearing black, that was important too.

"Ceremon-" Wait, wait, you have to tell him this is the dining room you moron. Taking a sharp breath in, distinctly cutting off his previous babble, Kyle let it out slowly, turning to Silas with a smile, white teeth poking through his pale lips."This is dining hall." He held his hands out slightly to gesture to the space around him. Now you can talk about ceremony. "Ceremony starts here." Very rough around the edges, and it sounded as if Kyle was addressing someone named Sir E. Money rather than saying a word, and he stuttered ever so slightly in the spaces between the syllables, but it came out.

Stepping back a few paces, Kyle placed his hand on the back of one of the wooden chairs,"Meal," he then held up his hands, putting up one finger at a time until he reached,"Seven." Or rather, "At Seven. Wear black." Black was an easy word, and so was wear.

Nodding with a twitchy smile, Kyle let his hands fall back to his sides. His miscoloured eyes glanced at the tattooed young man with them. Aden was an interesting fellow. He wasn't the nicest student out of the small bunch that they had, but interesting nonetheless. The things he chose to say and the things he hose to do almost always confused him beyond belief. For instance, today. Out of all the time in the world for him to tag along on one of Kyle's tours, which he has never done before, mind you, why did Aden decide this one? Was Silas somehow different than any other newcomer to the lad? Or was Aden just getting fond of the idea of Kyle looking like a fool while trying to say something?

If Kyle thought about it, neither would be all too surprising, actually. After all, it's just like people to poke fun at someone who stumbles. New or not.

Lightly gripping his arm with his hand Kyle nodded briefly to Aden, but with a quick snap, he was locked onto the thin vine yet again. Vines were always more interesting than clouds anyway. It seemed like forever he stood there, chuckling in a shallow manner with nervous cheeks flinching into a smile. There were advantages to not having flowing blood. It saved you the embarrassment of turning tomato red at inopportune times.

With a sudden haste, Kyle practically launched himself into his wobbly stride. They exited the dining hall to continue on their tour, since there was still so much to show Silas. One of which was Kyle favourite. They passed through the main entrance area again, but this time, a rainbow, or perhaps a butterfly even, was somehow standing next to Pell. Who herself was carrying a obviously heavy bag. Eyebrows quirking up and down and his lips scrunched to the side of his face, the blonde walked over to the pair, seemingly forgetting Silas and Aden. He stopped and stood by Pell's side, putting his hands in his pockets and offering a curious smile at the rather startled young women who Pell apparently dragged here. Not the most opportune way of coming to the acedemy but he didn't know the circumstances so he shouldn't judge.

You really shouldn't judge at all but especially when you don't know the story.

But Pell's uncomfortable shifting with the bags drew Kyle's eyes to it instead. Leaning slightly over to see what's inside, he saw the butchered meat that he would have to help serve at ceremony. He was actually supposed to get it himself, the heavy lifting usually was his job after all, but Kyle always appreciated the help. But he didn't want the girl to kill herself doing it.

Grabbing the handles of the bags with a single hand, Kyle lifted the bag enough to allow Pell to not be the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Her wrists and hands were red as it is. From there, Kyle gently tugged the bag out of her grip. He needed to go to the kitchen to set up the table anyway. He could drop it off. Assuming Pell did let go, Kyle held both bags of sliced meat in his left hand, giving Pell a nod and a firm smile attached to his lips. He gave a very slight nod to the stranger, but he was kinda in a hurry now. He had to drop off the bags into the kitchen and finish up the tour with Silas in about a half an hour, and there was still a lot left to cover for the lad. He also had to get dressed and set up the table and he should probably shower. Augh, why didn't he think to get all of this done before the new vine arrived? Would have saved him all the trouble.

Just as Kyle turned around in a smooth circle, Greyson walked up to the pair and started making conversation. Kyle got a sudden chill down his spine. She was very different than everyone else, in a way that Kyle liked, actually, but he couldn't put his figure on why he always felt off when she appeared. It was as if he was expecting to be ridiculed or something similar.

But nevertheless, he smiled his signature grin to Silas and Aden, waving his free hand for them to follow him. He didn't normally show off the kitchen, not on the first tour anyway, but this was an odd situation. Why not show him? Would be kinda interesting at least. It was a pretty nice kitchen after all. At least in undead standards.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Aden Orchau
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Pell Laveau

The lack of explanation and abundance of haste had method behind it. Mistakes, slip-ups, that sort of thing, simply could not be afforded. Not for witches. Not for those whose blood was a bounty when spilled. Pell of course realized she’d haphazardly dragged a helpless girl, capable of phasing, almost a half mile back to the academy. But there must have been some common understanding or at least bare curiosity. Because the stranger with the vivid hair didn’t break away, slip through. Pell had to give her credit where it was due.

Shuffling discord was heard as she dropped all the shopping bags onto the ivory walkway. Pell turned back to face the other witch head on, whose questions grew more hyperbolic and avid, hints of accusation laced in the words. Above, daylight still lingered, but only in dying bands of violet and dusky hue. Her parallel had a stare that yelled, “What the fuck is going on here!” Pell knew that feeling all too well. A dark silence passed between them. Gunmetal gaze sweeping, some red light flashing in her brain, Pell back stepped. The unease wouldn’t surface on her skin. She couldn’t blunder with a new girl potentially on the hook. But something was off. It was a smell. A sensation. Like a stench of quietus and carnage in the air. She tried not to wrinkle her nose and instead pulled back her lips to gleamingly smile. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the other young woman. How was Pell going to word this? How would she make it seem safe to an outsider? What could she offer besides food? And the worst part - who was watching? Or, what?

“Look,” the word was inhaled, low in tone, sincerity in the pitch, “I know. What you are. This,” she gestured to the looming building behind her, “Place is safe.” Still, puzzlement was scrawling itself all over the harlequin ingenue, tensing her muscles, a humored chuckle and gasp here and there attempting to make light of the bizarre circumstances. Pell took her wrists into her own hands, squeezing them lightly and keeping her voice quiet, “We are not a cult. We don’t have any weird practice aside from what we were naturally given. For you, it’s passing through. For me…” Gray jade eyes closed, Pell scraping her lower lip with a row of square teeth. In a neat score, all of the shopping bags began to hover busily and sort of bob toward the entrance of the school. “Pay attention,” she purred, “Very closely.” The grand double doors opened wide, granting access to a very eager grocery bundle. Behind those doors were no strings. No people. No rigs.

“We’re an academy. Safe place.” She turned on her heel, again. A trail of hazeled hair like pixie dust swayed behind her. “Obviously you could have made a break for it by now if you really wanted to, you know? I don’t blame you, if you decide to. Something just tells me that you won’t. You want to see what’s inside, and I really think you should.” Slowly Pell sauntered up the brief front stairs, pulling some tresses into her palms, “I can’t sit here and tell you everyone is great and you’ll make friends, we actually are super abundant in bitches, bad attitudes and mind control. All that shit, really. But you’ll have me.” A dash of self doubt came in the latter statement. But Pell liked to think it was well veiled. She gave a shrug and weakly dimpled, “I’m not a half bad guide. My name is Pell, by the way.” Standing in the vast doorway, she glanced at her iPhone in a lukewarm fashion, “If you like what you see, you can stay the night and hang around. See if it’s worth the research. If you want to lead your life the way you’ve been, even with the threat of being kidnapped and killed by men who put all their trust into holy water and blessed bullets, that’s always an option. It’s your life. Know this, though…” She peered back, “If they find you, you won’t know it until you’re bound and taken from your bed in the middle of the night. They will disable you, your powers, and any means of escape you think you might have. This shit isn't just in movies. Unfortunately it's real. I don’t want to scare you, I just want you to be safe. We’re a dying breed.”

Whether or not the girl chose to follow now was entirely up to her alone. Pell wouldn’t further the persuasion. She’d taken it as far as it needed to go. Pell chuckled grimly, “The more you know.” Pausing when she accidentally brushed Kyle, putting off his undead balance (which was bad enough without her fluky shoulder checks), Pell offered a revitalized grin. Obviously stepping out for a couple hours helped her to decompress. Softly she patted Kyle’s square shoulder, much different in form than the other. This was the way she regarded him if she ever decided to touch him. She knew touch was often associated with trauma for him, so rough or abrupt approaches may not do him well. The trace of warmth left on his shoulder would disappear in seconds. Slowly her chest rose, then fell, as she looked over Aden and Silas as well. She felt another sigh coming on. But, she choked it back. Silas’ aura was a bit less frantic and bewildered. Not quite at home, yet, but surely getting some bearing. “Hope the tour is going well, roomie.” She added with a nudge of her arm that didn’t even touch him. She was sure if she did, he might hastily step back and put on elbow pads or something before contact was made. Aden as per usual, had a sequence of thick smoke pooling in his mouth. His expression was dead and unamused, but Pell knew that in his head, there was mischief at work. She followed the smoke with her eyes. It absconded in an erotic fashion, forming a pithy curtain around his face.

“Potential fresh meat,” she mentioned to the trio of male inhabitants, “caught her at the cafe in public. Fuckin’ phasing through the table. Thought she might be a good addition to Ceremony.” Pell’s fingers curled, thumb extended as she pointed with it back at the girl whose mane mirrored the image of something one might see through a kaleidoscope. The hall they stood in was so wide. All throughout, the echoes of their conversation could be heard. Past supremes’ eyes followed the occupants from their unmoving position on the wall. Pell realized this may at first be very, very creepy. But hopefully, one of the boys would at least say hello and help erase some doubt.

“Anyway, grocery shopping is done,” she commented to Kyle as she sort of skipped to the staircase, eager to put on her Ceremony garb, “Gotta’ go change, maybe play dress up with the new girl.” During her giddy little caper, she passed Bambi’s room and heard a few muffled, scathing remarks which momentarily perplexed Pell. Something about shutting up and, “You’re not real.” Pell simply rolled her shoulders and furrowed her brow. The academy had seen stranger things than arguments or imaginary friends. She was done being the moral support crusader, at least until she got dressed and had dinner. As she scaled the foyer, she was happy to know that the AC had been turned off. Bobbin lace curtains and fixtures billowed at either end of the vestibule as they moved with the oncoming evening gale. It was almost holy and celestial this way. All trimmed and adorned in ivory finery. It would give a wonderful contrast to its residents, dressed as black as a Sahara night.

ImageStill ajar, Pell’s room welcomed her home. The bag filled with Ceremony fashions beat her to the bed. It sat neatly there, begging her to put the pieces on already. There was no composure left in that moment. Pell eagerly peeled her daytime clothes off, not caring about the open door. Her arms shot toward the ceiling, candles that encircled the bed spaces bursting into glorious flame, “Ceremony in twenty minutes!” Her shout echoed throughout the entire academy and even put such a scare into the candles that their miniature infernos danced to the side with caution. Pell was quite the enthusiast of Ceremony. This was probably due to the everlasting supply of gourmet food and wine. But mostly the food. God, did she love the culinary divinity of that school.

The slope of her hips came to widen slightly at the waist, silhouette warmly complimented in the soft luminescence of the tiny tealights placed around both beds. Happily she flicked a pair of thigh highs out of sight. She’d simply go barefoot. Next came an A-cut maxi skirt, and then the crochet-inspired lace crop top which struck up an elegant divergence to her porcelain skin. The topper was a thick black choker, tied in a petite bow at the nape of her neck. Her fingers threaded themselves through her locks as she sort of paced around the room, thinking of anything else she could add. Charcoal and licorice herb filled her senses. A playful smirk met her reflection in the window, her own indication. Greyson was probably soaking that beautiful tawny skin of hers, taking her time, unfazed by time matters. Or she was nearby. With that, Pell remembered to roll on a faint lavender perfume and nonchalantly decided to call something out down the hallway, when Greyson appeared. Pell stammered for a moment, which was a rare occurrence. But Greyson’s beauty had a habit of doing that to her. Leaving her speechless, kind of in awe, looking for any way to get a grip on reality before completely dissolving into a blubbering puddle.

“How cute, you’ve brought home a pet.”

Typical. That was just like Greyson in her sort of not-interested-in-attendees-or-their-powers way. And it wasn’t even just guest listed girls with their colorful hair that kept at Pell’s heels like a puppy. It was everyone. Greyson had charm and social grace, but she didn’t need to exhibit it. People gravitated toward her and more often than not, she could care less. She was long term at the academy and maybe her passion and zeal had burnt out over time. Either way, Pell liked her just the way she was. Her stare crawled all over the dark-eyed girl. “Sounds like jealousy,” Pell countered in a humorous tone, grabbing Greyson’s hand and pressing a mild kiss to it. “Don’t worry, you won’t be replaced. Besides, this one might not make it through the night."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara
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The tour that ensued wasn't the best tour that Silas had ever been on, but that was perfectly understandable. He'd been guided through the halls and gardens of castles, oral stories and histories from passionate experts intertwining into an almost physical history that could be seen in each towering rampart and every torch-lit hallway. He'd traipsed through battlefields on day trips, heard the tales of the losses and victories that sank into the soil giving this stretch of grass an identity. Robichaux felt like one of those places, steeped in dark secrets and histories that hung heavy in the air and imposed on each new face with the glowering portraits of people he didn't know and the even more secretive faces of those he had yet to meet. This was a place where things had and still happened apart- things entirely different from teenage quarrels and burgeoning magical talents. Perhaps, if he thought about it, he was a bit disappointed not to learn the name of whoever was so important as to have a portrait framed in the halls or any of the juicy little tidbits that brought interesting places like this to life. Then again, this wasn't a for fun tour for the curious mind- this was, with all due respect, a school tour and Kyle was pulling through brilliantly.

It took Silas a moment to get used to his speech, words short and syllables just off enough to confuse him when he first heard each carefully pieced together word. But any new person, Silas reasoned, was a bit of a learning curve, so he did just that- he learned. He listened carefully to every phrase that fell from Kyle's mouth, latching onto the words eagerly. Hands itched to jot down notes because right now he was getting the barest bones of the house from his determined tour guide, but also the most essential (he refrained partly because he knew that he'd remember and partly because he was self aware enough to know that flipping out a little notepad and matching pen from his pocket wasn't exactly "normal"). Aden chimed in every once in a while, his words adding background but dripping with a layer cynicism that left Silas anything but surprised.

They traipsed around the floors, some needing no introduction like the foyer that was magically just as deserted as when Silas had first arrived (perhaps, he thought, all of the students were hiding in their rooms? Or probably just out. Yes, that seemed far more likely). They stopped in one room, the dining hall, and what a room that was. It felt decadent, if he had to choose a word, despite being bereft of food it was a formal dining room with the same swirling energy that lingered in other parts of the house. It wasn't being surrounded by magic that did it- it felt like an atmosphere waiting, biding ones time until something, something that he had yet to learn about, happened.

Kyle was speaking in and Silas's focus was placed solely on the other boy, a picture of patience itself as he met Kyle's smile with his own as the other boy worked through the words to get his message across. Ah, there was that mysterious Ceremony again- Ms. Snow had mentioned it briefly on the ride over and he'd heard it thrown around since his arrival, mentioned but never explained. That must be what the room was waiting for, the event that gave it such an important feel in comparison to the others rooms he'd visited so far. The meal, what he assumed was the beginning of Ceremony, began at seven (only a short while away, he noted absently. Time really did fly when you were having fun or as close to fun as getting to know your new home could be) and the dress code was black. Not black tie, not gothic like a Halloween party, but black.

That was the moment where he lost Kyle's attention, the other boy focusing on something that Silas didn't quite understand. Was there something wrong in the room? Something funny from the way he was chuckling. Whatever it was, it bewitched the odd boy for a moment longer before he was hurriedly making his way out of the room with a confused Silas behind. Perhaps this was normal- yes, it probably was, Silas reasoned as he followed swiftly after Kyle. Just like curtains catching on fire, super model witches and warlocks, and mysterious "Ceremonies" with a dress code were normal here. He'd just have to put on a brave face and pretend that he thought it was normal as well until it was. As he moved along, he realized that he was feeling warm, warmer than he had before. It took him only a moment to realize that the quiet whir of the air-conditioning had been silenced. He plucked absently at his collar. Oh, dear.

They were moving through the entrance again when Kyle stopped once more. It was occupied now by Pell hefting large shopping bags, as friendly as she apparently ever was.

"Oh, yes, the tour's been very informative. Very good," He agreed and, really, it was a wonder he had yet to run out of enthusiasm. But any attention on him was lost when it was swiftly directed towards a girl Silas had not seen before (which, honestly, wasn't all that surprising). She was pretty in a way similar to Pell, petite in stature but apparently big in personality going by the brilliant rainbow colors dyed into her hair. Another indication would be the fact that she was apparently using magic in public, a societal no-no that even Silas understood (although there were quite a few additional reasons why he didn't use his particular talents in public that included "incredible trauma to all that surrounded him" and "a few visits to the family therapist for himself").

From there Pell left again, as she was apparently prone to do, with Kyle taking the grocery bags with ease and beckoning them to follow behind. Silas lingered for a moment, eyes darting to the new girl, who was in all reality just as lost as him, before offering her one of his patent crooked grins. Well, he might as well try to make her feel welcome.

"Well, welcome, I suppose. I, ah, really like your hair. The color's brilliant."

Or make her realize that he was socially awkward as quickly as possible, he thought as he hurried behind Kyle with a slight wave towards the stranded girl. Either way.

He followed towards the kitchen for a moment but just as his lips began to open with an offer to carry at least one of the shopping bags, Pell's voice rang throughout the house, the time echoing through the halls like the tolling of a grandfather clock.

Silas panicked just a bit (by that he meant a lot) because he had twenty minutes to make himself presentable again, twenty minutes to make himself ready for a first impression for an even he really didn't understand after traveling the entire day.

("First appearances are everything, Silas, " His Aunt's voice echoed in his mind. "You must look your best or they will assume the worst. That is the way of the world- now pass me that avocado.")

"I am so sorry," he blurted out, wringing his still-gloved hands together. " But I should probably go get ready for Ceremony. Thank you so much for the tour, Kyle. Really. I, um, I'll probably see you at the meal then? Thank you, again. Ah, thank you too, Aden." With that, he skittered away, walking as fast as propriety allowed without actually breaking into a jog or run.

He scurried up the stairs, only pure restraint keeping him from taking them two at a time. It never occurred to him that he had a roommate that had to get ready for Ceremony too. It never occurred to him to stop at that door since it was already open. It never occurred to him that Pell might not be alone. Which was exactly why he found himself in the doorway of his own room, frozen once more like a deer in the headlights. He rebooted a split second later, mortification painted on his face not because of what he was seeing but because he was seeing it- a private moment that involved nudity from his roommate and it was all such an invasion of her privacy. Oh, God, what if they thought he was some sort of- of- pervert.

The apology that followed was an extraordinary one. A wretched "I'm so sorry" and "please forgive me" slurred into a singular monosyllabic word as he twirled away from the entrance with a much clearer, "Take all the time you need. I'll just wait out here. Or somewhere else. It's all fine" paired with at least three more "sorry"s for good measure once he was safely unable to see them.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait:
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ıllıllı ⓚⓨⓛⓔ ⓢⓟⓔⓝⓒⓔⓡ ıllıllı

It is said that those who are blind see more than those who can see. And sometimes it's said that those who don't possess any particular sense, whether that is deafness or blindness or any number of things, the other senses become amplified. If this idea was true then that would explain why Kyle had the knack to pick words and conversations out in a large crowd or in an extremely loud place. He was a man of few words but what he lacked in verbal communication he made up for with attentive and keen ears. His hearing wasn't of course amplified in any way, but picking out a certain voice or conversation was fairly easy to him. Even if there were dozens of others shouting or if music was blaring. He blamed it on the fact that he was practically obsessed with conversation, but he did use this acquired skill, so to speak, quite a lot.

ImageWhen Greyson and Pell started making conversation about the new 'pet', as she was referred to, Kyle tuned his attention to channel Silas and his awkward greetings. More specifically his extraordinary vocabulary. Silas hadn't said more than ten sentences since Kyle had met him and he already was using words that he only really heard Mr. B say. Things like 'informative' and 'brilliant'. He knew what they meant, of course. He's heard them used before, why wouldn't he remember? Informative meant- well- of course it meant- okay, maybe not informative. It was familiar but maybe that slipped his mind. But he knew what brilliant meant for sure. It er... it meant... uh.

Kyle's nose startled to crinkle and his eyebrow began to raise. He knew what it meant, he knew it. He did, he really did, Mr. B used it in class a few times and he looked it up, he remembered. It was- it was- augh- it was something to do with-with-augh. Tongue clicking in his mouth, Kyle exhaled an inaudible 'brilliant'. It was something to do with being... something. It was saying that whatever you were talking about was something. Something.

"Ceremony in twenty minutes!"

Kyle looked up, his face turning into a blank slate. Silas and Aden were there in the kitchen with him now instead of talking to the girl with a rainbow for hair. Kyle glanced at the two, his mind flipping through his to-do list. Take a shower, change into black attire, light all the candles, prepare the plates and the silverware- wow the list was getting extensive. How was he supposed to do all of this in twenty minutes?

Kyle shifted his weight between his legs, lips clamped shut by his white teeth. Kyle has never been late to ceremony, and he's never had to cut a tour short. It just didn't happen. Kyle was always good about leaving enough time for a tour and getting ready. Now he had to choose. Spinning the bags in his hand back and forth, he contemplated the situation, but he never came up to a solid conclusion. At least not before Silas chimed in and set Kyle go.

A smile peaked onto his face, showing through the relief and enthusiasm. Good. So he wouldn't be late for ceremony after all. Kyle will have to show him the rest of the place later. In the morning probably. That seemed good, no? Unless he's not a morning person. Was he a morning person? Kyle was.

Silas left promptly like he was on official business, leaving Kyle and Aden alone. Didn't leave much of a good bye, but it was good enough for him, and Kyle merely waved at Aden before setting down the bags onto the counter. He left Aden be without another word and he passed by Mr. B, who at some point came inside. He had a habit of sneaking in and out like that. If Kyle hadn't run into him when he left, he wouldn't have even realized he was gone in the first place. But Kyle gave him a brief wave as he marched his way upstairs to go get his proper clothes.

But he couldn't really do everything on his to-do list all before ceremony. He had to cut a few things. Coming to a halt, the blonde pondered. A shower could wait, so he won't take a shower. If he dressed real quick he could have time to set everything up. He was good. Nodding to the air around him in approval of his solid plan, he finished the steps leading to the second floor. He passed by Silas and Hale who both sounded like they were stumbling over their own words. That was strange. Wasn't that his job? To stumble over words? What's got them both so flustered?

Kyle inched his way past the two bodies, walking on until he met the open frame of Pell's room. That wasn't unusual. Was it the burnt curtains? Kyle's hand gripped the frame of the door and he practically swung himself into the door frame.

It was a very brief interaction, if you could call it that.

ImageKyle's original curious gaze remained unwavered as his eyes fell onto Pell changing. But as quickly as he had swung in, he was out, his foot catching the door and pulling it closed. He then moved on, the image leaving his mind through his exhale.

Kyle's room wasn't much. It wasn't elaborate or decorated unlike many other students. His was plain with a dresser, two bed (of of which was empty), a laptop and headphones, and countless holes and dents in the walls that had been covered in a thick coat of plaster. The off-white plaster did give an interesting texture to the pure white walls. So maybe it wasn't entirely too plain. But still. It was a very still room. Still and quite.

Flinging open his dresser and pulling out the first black clothes he laid eyes on. He stripped as quickly as his body and head would allow him and he pulled on the shirt, the pants, the jacket, Kyle even put his shoes on. Ceremony was important and it was important enough for shoes. The black shoes were tied into a hefty knot and his fingers acted as comb bristles, gathering all the stray strands of hair on his head and clumping the together in a neater fashion. And once that formality was over, Kyle bounced down the hall, jumped down the stairs, and ran into the dining hall, practically flinging himself beside Hale. "Mister B." Kyle said with a bright smile, looking up to Council member. "Can I serve?"

Kyle didn't always serve the food during ceremony. Sometimes the food was already served, sometimes people served themselves. It really depends on what was going on and the circumstances behind the food and ceremony and the announcements and such. Really, it depended on everything. But sometimes they did let him, and Kyle had made it a habit to ask every week if he could. Because he was the butler, after all. If he wasn't going to serve food then what sort of butler was he? If he didn't serve food then he was practically an ugly, unpaid maid. And he didn't want to be a maid. Because he was a butler. There was a very big difference. Huge difference.

Besides, there was a new kid today, and based off of what Pell was telling the rainbow haired leprechaun she brought home, it seemed like there was going to be a guest. What better way to greet them then to serve them their first ceremony dinner? "For Silas?" He mispronounced it didn't he? "Please?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Greyson Ault
The house was lively again, people were returning from their activities, some seemed more annoyed than others. Ceremony was one of the few social events Greyson actually enjoyed, which Pell seemed to share the same amount of enthusiasm. The girl was practically glowing, or maybe that was her iridescent hair. While Greyson had obviously thrown the usually flawlessly smooth Pell out her train of thought, Pell recovered quickly, accusing Greyson of jealousy. A light titillating laugh sounded foreign coming from Greyson, but it was natural. Pell had a charm Greyson found difficult to ignore, she didn’t even wince when Pell took her hand to kiss.

While fear reading was a gift that made others fear her, Greyson found that it only made her fear intimacy. The most innocent touch could provide the most gruesome details of someone’s mind, and Greyson sometimes couldn’t turn it off. When she saw someones fear, it didn’t just appear like a picture in her mind, she witnessed the fear - felt it. In recent years she had been learning to turn it off, with Pell’s brief touch she hardly had to put any effort to block Pell’s fears from her own mind. She doubted Pell even had any fears, she carried herself with this sense of invincibility that everyone could admire, even Greyson.

Smirking, Greyson reached her index finger to trace along Pell’s jawline when the she had let go of Greyson’s hand. “Try not to sound so hopeful.” she joked along with Pell, although it did take tough skin to hang around this lot, they weren’t exactly the friendly type. People had already began to flock to Pell, it was like clockwork. Eyes shifting over the lot, studying their faces individually, yet to have introduced herself to the newcomers. There were to many people there for her liking, Greyson could feel herself withdraw. ”See you at ceremony, doll.” She said to Pell airily, actively avoiding social contact with anyone else.

She still had another ten minutes, and as much as it killed her, Greyson wanted another cigarette. Her stomach clenched as she glance back at Aden standing beside Kyle, when had those two become chums? Her fingers fiddled with her pack before pulling out a slim white cigarette. Dark locks fell forward as she lit the tobacco, she didn’t bother pushing them back. Again she looked at Kyle, an endless reminder of who she was becoming.

Biting her lip, Greyson looked back out, then taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out through pursed lips. Her fingers clenched, her skin began to crawl, there felt like there was a bubble growing from the center of her chest. As if her power was pulsing from her, stretching further and further, itching to pop - she paced her breathing to steady herself. They were like minor panic attacks, she started having them more and more as of recently. Mostly they would come and go, sometimes she would manage to run away fast enough to handle it on her own, one to many times she had found that she blacked out bits and pieces.

A dark figure appeared by the gate, as he approached closer Greyson recognized it as Rowe. He said a brief hello on his way in, obviously already in a different world than anyone else. Making obscene gestures behind his back as he walked away, Greyson straightened herself up. Tossing away the ciggy, Greyson could sense the anticipation for Ceremony. She left her jacket over the bannister on the front porch, stepping back into the house with the remainder of the black clad coven. Passing Arturo on her way to the dining room, Greyson allowed herself to get a proper look of the guard dog from head to toe. She never pretended to be subtle, plus the mans expression only showed stress-she doubted he even noticed her looking.

The dining room table was decorated lavishly, stark white flatware and polished glasses. Although there weren’t assigned seats so to speak, it seemed like there was a sense of unspoken heir achy with the students of higher esteem sitting closer in the center of the table. Greyson had spent the last two years sitting across from Madison, but recent company like Pell and Aden had also joined the center of the table, and while Greyson wasn’t much of a conversationist she enjoyed the entertainment. Walking past people who were grouping near the archway of the dining room she stood near the front of the crowd, waiting to be ushered in.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault
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Pell Laveau

Pell hadn’t so much as blinked as far as accidental onlookers went. But she could feel their flitting eyes and immediate reserve they executed. If she was that concerned, or out for the attention, she would have gasped and clutched herself like something out of a Betty Boop animation. Maybe even throw in the fanning of the hand, making squeaky noises that might imply she was embarrassed, or something. But Pell wasn’t quite on that level of humility. Sometimes, she acted more like a shameless boy than a girl. Let alone a witch from an aseptic bloodline.

She glanced out while Silas and Hale pressed themselves into the hall, as though there were some sort of laser alarm system at the foot of the doorway they dared not touch. Kyle bounced in and right out again. Typical, for him. At least in the case of unanticipated nudity. Hale looked slightly less shocked, but still red in the face. Hale could not see it as anything less than a chuckle marathon. By now, he was a frequent audience member. He might have laughed with others, but Pell knew that in his solitary mistaken viewings before, he would sort of gawk and stumble away. Hale’s square jaw tensed, fighting back a smile. Silas on the other hand… If his cheeks had bloomed a more fervent color of rose, they might have swelled and popped, too. He was panicked and debased. It looked as though he was blaming himself. Pell had cast him a lukewarm expression, then a small smirk at its edge, “It’s okay, really, Abernathy.” Playfully, she waved a manilla folder with his title on it. That was something she would save for post-Ceremony entertainment. Pell might not have confessed it, but he was very strange and interesting. Which naturally, made a girl like herself, intrigued and committed to figuring out just what the hell was up with the guy.

Medium cooked steak was in the air. The scent was hot and fresh. If it weren’t for Greyson being so alluring and hard to pull from, Pell would have flew to the dining room like a rock from a slingshot. Naked, too. But in spite of her devotion to bloody meat, she cocked her hip at an angle to rest it on her door frame while she talked, or more so, watched, Greyson. Clothed. In the distance she could hear Hale guffawing and shouting out to Rowe about punctuality. Rowe ferociously yelled back and corrected the teacher. An arched brow quirked above gunmetal eyes. Pell grinned. The lavender haired girl edged from her room, reaching in a wayside manner to yank Violet with her. “Stick around as long as you like,” Pell crooned, looking over the array of color in the fresh meat’s locks. “We’ve got plenty of room.” Pausing, the Laveau girl’s scrutiny passed between her closet and Violet. “Oh…”

ImageHer white teeth flashed toward Greyson, who had her doubts about anyone who came in at Pell’s heels. Or, at all, really. Greyson didn’t get excited over newbies. She didn’t even bat an eye sarcastically. She just had her usually cold regard, with some ice in the daggers shot from her stare. Pell liked it, low-key. When the boys were out of sight, she snapped her fingers in response to Violet’s question about Ceremony. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she piped up suddenly as Greyson was stripped of everything but her bra and panties, “I don’t have time to sift through my closet with you and if you’re coming, you need to follow dress code.” Pell wasted no more time in the effort. Something black, something that would ‘fit’ to Violet’s style, even if just barely. In a matter of seconds, ebony garb manifested itself, sheer at the torso to give glimpses of Violet’s pale skin.

“Now you’re set,” Pell continued, wandering into the hallway and following Greyson’s finger which had only moments ago grazed Pell’s cheek. The girl must have looked like a little puppy in that moment. Snapping out of it, she watched Greyson go. It was a good opportunity to give Violet a moment to gather herself and maybe take a look at her reflection. The dorm hall became busy. In passing, Jacqueline might have noticed Pell with the new girl, but probably not. She had a bit of candy on her own arm, strolling around the school with her usual smooth demeanor, that cool dialect of hers probably wrapping him around her finger. He seemed content with the idea of her tour and it being more exclusive than the ones given by Kyle, head sort of bobbing happily, shaggy hair shifting as he listened to Jacqueline speak. Pell choked back a snide sexual remark at her own cousin, figuring she could save it for the wine segment of dinner. Besides, even if Jacqueline didn’t acknowledge Pell, she knew she was there, knew what she was thinking.

Pell jerked her head in the direction of the stairs, knowing Violet would follow. She kept her at arm’s length, though. Didn’t want to lose her. “So this is Robichaux,” she briefed, “Established in some… Late 1800’s, maybe. It’s a school for witches. We have class schedules, our own rooms, freedom to roam if you’re legal, and every Wednesday we have ‘Ceremony.’ It’s kind of how we stay in touch with our roots. Or, at least that’s how I see it.”

Once they made it to the main floor, the dusky luster from candles had taken the place of electricity. Hundreds of smells were in the air. Most notably: sage, Delmonico, garlic, and a dash of Merlot. Even some Louisiana fruit aroma had crept through the windows. Pell loved these kind of nights, knowing that the fresh air was coming in, but nothing was getting out. It was a liberating sort of evening. Most of the students and household dreaded it. It forced them to maintain some kind of prompt schedule. To Pell it was an excuse to get drunk and set shit on fire, plainly. But of course there were other perks. Say… Like the possibility of yet another new student, learning advanced spells if Fiona herself was drunk enough, and just letting loose.

The vibrant duo approached the mouth of the dining room, where Hale and Kyle now stood side by side. Kyle’s sandy hair frisked itself as he eagerly requested permission to personally serve new students. And more specifically, Silas. Mostly everyone would be rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. But Pell hoped that he’d keep that virtue and that people would embrace it. It helped him feel alive. Judging from Hale’s taut regard, there would be no special treatment or excepting meal serving. She frowned at his disapproval, but understood that there was good reason behind it. Hale encouraged and always backed proactive behaviors. Unfortunately, he was under strict surveillance especially during Ceremony hours. There was always business to attend to on Wednesday’s, and he followed protocol. It was bizarre to see him so upright and obedient. Pell might have even scoffed and giggled as she walked by him to find her seat at the center of the table, beside Greyson rather than parallel, to let Violet sit on the other side and have a taste of the ‘finer things’. If she did decide to stick around, she might not sit at this area for a long, long time.

Soon the seats were filled, and voices were low. Even Arturo's growling had ceased. The candle chandelier swung slowly above the buffet and its consumers. But no one dared touch a fork. Cordelia stood, glass of wine in hand, clouded eyes blinking as she waited for total silence. And then she dimpled politely, “Welcome to Ceremony. I know we have a few newcomers, and a visitor,” her smile wavered, probably in the event of Pell being so rushed she forgot to ask permission, “So let me be the first to say, don’t be scared.” A short laugh followed, and she went on, “I’ll save the long speech, I know you all must be starved. Regulations are the same. This area is sealed until midnight. You will not be able to leave unless asking permission.” Emphasis sunk into the last two words. Bowing her head, she smoothed her skirt and took a seat, “Dig in."

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Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Violet's head was practically in the clouds as she tried to keep up with everything go on around her, at some point a garb was thrown her way and she caught it within her small hands and smiled appreciatively at Pell, nodding lightly. "Thanks," She'd become more calm and less fascinated with time and was starting to regather the attitude Pell would have noticed in her when they first met but she didn't voice much. Violet slipped out of her previous outfit and into the garb which she silently adored, style wise it would seem her and Pell had a certain amount in common but she didn't bring it up as a conversation topic she still felt quite awkward in the situation and hated that she was having to stalk Pell like she was some kind of homeless dog desperate to be taken care of. She might have tried being more independent but she'd get lost too easily and end up in the wrong place, that was just her luck. So she stopped gazing in admiration of the black outfit and pulled it swiftly on discarding her previous clothing for the time being. It suited her quiet well and fitted perfectly around the hips but fell up an inch or so short on her legs and wrists but not so much one would notice or comment and to Violet's joy it was comfortable because she couldn't bear clothes that weren't comfortable and would often end up becoming distracted and foul-tempered because of it. With a quirky kind of grace, she moved over to the bag she'd been using down in town and folded her old clothes into it carefully before standing up and finally noticing that she'd fallen behind Pell but poking her head out of the door, she spotted her again and noticed she seemed to be lingering as if she were waiting, so Violet followed naturally.

As she looked around at her present company, she looked over at Pell with an arched brow. "Witches? So...I can do this phasing shit because I'm a witch?" She asked her biting her lip slightly. It was quite hard to believe but in the same sense it wasn't- she could walk through concrete at the end of the day, so it actually made sense it was just really, really weird. She found herself subconsciously biting her thumb nail and forced herself to stop because it was one of the things she hated most about herself, the way she nervously hacked down her thumb nails. It was a foul habit but one she'd had since she was a young child. No one had ever tried to make her stop doing it so she'd always gotten away with it until it got to the point where she'd have stubby fingers and they'd just bleed all the time. It wasn't that bad anymore but she still wishes hat she could work out how to stop. Image

Violet sat down as Pell did opposite her, obviously oblivious to the protocol and such of the evening but where Pell pointed out things like the dress code for instance, she was making the effort to be compliant which was rare for her. It'd gotten to that evening time where she was itching for a cigarette but she wouldn't be as rude to leave to go and smoke, so she gritted her teeth for a moment, took a breath and let it go. She didn't need it, she wasn't even really addicted as far as how often she'd smoke the only guaranteed thing was that she'd smoke once in the evening usually on her porch or sat in her bedroom window but her entire routine had been broken to day so she was going to have suck it up because this was bound to be an amazing experience and she could learn so much about who she was here if she gave it a shot.

She'd been here less than an hour and she'd already learnt what she was. A question she hadn't been able to answer herself as long as she'd lived- she'd gotten no where with it but in such a short amount of time, she'd been hit with the news like she should have known it all along.

Looking down the table she wondered if she ought to introduce herself, be sociable and polite but a part of her felt wary about sparking up a conversation. She was still bewildered about what she'd discovered but she didn't feel the need to freak out, she was surprised but it didn't seem ridiculous or unbelievable. To her, it felt like the most accurate truth and she didn't know if that was because she was basically bat shit insane or because part of her knew there was no way Pell could be lying. She had a strong sense of enlightenment now she finally knew and an uncontrolled smile had grown on her pale pink lips as she considered it to herself voicelessly. Plain and simple, she was a witch- not a mutant, freak, alien or anything else she'd ever told herself she could be. She was a witch and there was somewhere she potentially belonged. Looking down the array of faces in the room, it dawned on her she could finally relate to people and it felt amazing to know for once she was an outsider or something people should be disgusted and scared of because that's all she'd ever been in the past.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara
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It wasn't fair to say that Silas was embarrassed. Oh, no, no, no- "embarrassed" was far too gentle a word. Embarrassed was mispronouncing the name of a dish on a restaurant menu or laughing quite suddenly when no one else was. This particular emotion that colored his cheeks a brilliant scarlet and made his eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights was mortification pure and simple. Still, seeing his new roommate in a... a state of undress (which really felt like also watching his own fledgling social life at the Academy shrivel up and die) was no excuse to be blundering around the hallway, running into people like a lunatic.

It took him a moment to realize who his victim was- the same man who had greeted him at the beginning before throwing him to the metaphorical wolves (which really was unfair, Silas told himself, because surely he had important things to do and Madison wasn't really a wolf literally speaking). It took him less than a moment to send his gaze to the ground, a brief and jumbled apology tumbling from his lips and a few aborted attempts at explaining what exactly he'd been doing that ended with him flushing shades of red unknown to mankind and one hand scrabbling desperately for the stone in his pocket like a child clinging to a security blanket.

Any coherent warning would have come too late, however, as he heard the older man's own sputter of surprise because of course the door was still wide open. And for just a moment, just a short moment, Silas felt quite pleased that he wasn't the only person embarrassed for once. That is until Hale started informing him about Pell's apparent exhibitionist qualities as he guided Silas out of the danger zone, sporadic giggles and guffaws sneaking past his lips either at the situation ahead or the look on Silas's face(most likely both, Silas thought miserably) as he finally allowed himself to look up from the wooden floorboards and face his rescuer. And even though Hale was basically telling him that this was far from the last time he'd see Pell prancing about sans clothing no matter what he did about it, it was vaguely comforting that he was telling him at all and trying to keep his laughter in to boot. Bad news non-withstanding, this was perhaps his second normal interaction with a human-being since he'd gotten here.

But now Hale was swanning off again, laughing all the way as he disappeared down the corridor leaving Silas, for the umpteenth time, alone, a single truth left to keep him company.

"But we learn here, more than anywhere else, women… May be the rulers.”

If Silas had been one to snort, now would have been the perfect time. Of course women were the rulers. One couldn't spend their entire life with Auntie Lavinia and not know that particular little fact.

He stayed in the hall for a time, frozen like it would make him invisible despite Pell's claims that it was alright. Oh, sure, it was alright for her, but this was a lot more of his new roommate than he'd ever hoped or needed to view. Perhaps more disconcerting was the fact that she had his file which made him feel rather naked himself. He didn't really know what was in it, hadn't cared to take a peek, but there were chapters in his life that he'd rather keep tucked away, please and thank you.

"Right. Okay," He managed, eyes once more focused on the floor beneath his feet. He remained there until the girls left, Pell as calm confidence and the other two following her lead. The air was thick, the cloying smells of perfumes, herbs, and steak all swirling into a thick vapor that filled his lungs with an almost solid presence. He scrambled into the room, careful to shut and lock the door behind him because, really, he was not his roommate, before cracking the window. It was cooler now, a mild breeze cutting through the heat and humidity of the day. Ah. There. That was good.

He turned back to the task at hand, neatly unpacking what he needed from his suitcase. Black on black on black may not be his favorite color combination (in fact, his inner dandy was begging him to add a pop of color), but he could do it for the sake of... of not embarrassing himself further. Trousers were selected, a shirt distressingly wrinkled from travel was almost victim to a small travel iron before he reminded himself that he barely had time for this, and finally a fresh jacket not subjected to Louisiana heat and what it did to Silas's body was plucked out and the suitcase resolutely shut again. He was dying for a shower, but made do with a few swipes of a handkerchief that was carefully placed in the growing dirty clothes pile afterwards. Hair was combed back, shoes put back on, and he felt as ready as he would ever be.

He lingered for a moment, a mental crisis keeping him frozen to the spot, before he plucked the folder, his folder, rather, from Pell's side of the room and shoved it into his pillow case. Technically he wasn't taking it from her, he rationalized as he hid it away- he was just putting it somewhere. For safe keeping. That Pell didn't necessarily know of. It only occurred to him later that it was a folder about him and he could do with it what he darn well pleased.

It was a race against time now as he hurried towards the dining room. Students were already filtering in leaving Silas feeling overdressed (which was far better than feeling underdressed, he rationalized because he really didn't need anymore embarrassment today), and standing at the front of the room was Hale and Kyle. The older man stood up straight, body tense in a complete dichotomy to the Hale Silas had parted with moments ago, all giggles and exuberance. Kyle looked much the same and Silas gave him a relieved grin and a quick hello before he too was herded into the dining room.

The smell was even thicker here, as nauseatingly present as if a bottle of particularly interesting perfume had been tossed to the floor. Or perhaps that was the stress talking, Silas thought as he tugged at this collar, wondering distractedly if he should have forgone his tie, the same shadowy shade as everything else he currently wore. Oh, no. No, this was fine. He'd not put on a vest, after all- he couldn't let decorum break down so entirely as to forget his tie too.

It was quiet now, stifling really as he sat in the flickering glow of the candlelight chandelier swinging idly above their heads. Voices were a dull murmur until they vanished away as Cordelia stood, another vaguely recognizable face for Silas, glass of wine in hand. Her speech was short but her command strong, a woman not to be messed with. Regulations were introduced, or at least one about not leaving the Academy (like Silas would ever wander around a strange place at night anyways) but the rest a mystery. Perhaps he would ask over dinner, he thought as Cordelia invited them to dig in. Or not. No need to rock the boat this early on in the evening.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault
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Mr. B

Cordelia had seated herself and made casual conversation while Hale eagerly helped himself to first a glass of Merlot, then of Bourbon. By the time she had acquainted herself with the new arrivals, asked Violet how long she knew she was ‘different’ and explained house rules, Hale had relaxed and relocated to a newly empty spot between Silas and Violet. Across the table Greyson and Pell eyed him suspiciously. He paid no mind. His usual uncanny sparkling smile was set in place, eyes slightly glassy, attire ironed to a paragon. Overhead, a primitive and ornate candle chandelier began to sway, surely the work of Pell’s boredom. Hale pivoted, resting one leg on the opposite knee as he turned to face Silas.

“… So, I’m thinking from your rather distressed body language - you are having second thoughts, hm?” A virile hand raised a glass, golden liquid sloshing. The routine grin had slackened into a sort of meticulous and stagnant smile, dimples fluctuating against the expression. In the background Cordelia’s distinct voice crooned with intrigue over new arrivals. Hale kept his gaze away from her and set it on a worthy understudy, writhing probably at the idea of wearing all black and feeling slightly isolated. Now the dining area was aglow with fieriness and laughter. Plates were clearing and conversation buzzed on while sorcery was at play, free and elated. Candles blew out and relit spontaneously. Wares moved about the table on their own. “Was it what I said? About the women being in charge?” Hearty chuckle released, Hale rocked on the embellished woodwork chair. Another swallow of fire water, another casual question and content regard on his lips.

“And you?” Hale jerked his head toward the rainbow trout, yes, that’s what he would call her, now. The flimsy inky fabric of her shirt was revealing but modest. Certainly a fitting choice for Ceremony. “Are you frightened by this?” His eyes lit up with mirth as he finished the beverage. “I suppose being ‘locked in’ is a little much for a newbie, but the nice thing is, it’s more of a perimeter type of screen. So, you can still step out and wander the grounds without being seen, without having to worry. You just can’t go beyond the gates. Which I,” he grinned and slid the glass onto the crimson table cloth, “Enjoy thoroughly.” The vague riddle was answered by the pack of cigarettes pushing themselves from the pocket of his slacks.

“Silas here is new, as well. So you have that in common, along with being helplessly thrown into a coven.” Patting his sweater, Hale tittered again. If anything was frightening to the craft immigrants, it was probably good old Mr. B and his preternatural way of being amused. Even about the grim, nudity, and the plain unusual. He could feel Fiona’s cold stare from the far end of the table. She was not so easily amused. That, and she had probably taken notice that Aden was nowhere to be found.

Everyone had scarfed down their meals and helped themselves happily to wine. Slowly they dispersed into the sitting room, where portraits hung and great pillars burned orange. Violet, Silas, Hale and Rowe lingered. The latter wasn’t long lasting. He was more of a lone wolf, McDermott. Hale had taken it upon himself to be his sort of guardian, but Rowe was not a fan of the supervision. It always showed in his tone and his narrowed eyes. Fortunately, not much fazed Mr. B in the way of standoffish people. He pervaded the known limits of those types of folk. Rowe cordoned himself off, hadn’t many friends, or any, at all. At least not that Hale had noticed or seen. Call it charity, call it Council work, but Hale did it for his own reasons. Perhaps empathizing. Who could say? The Council scout was tight lipped about his garnered impressions of others and his ultimate intentions. That was how he maintained his position at the academy.

Rowe split off, probably to go into the courtyard. Kyle wasn’t far from the dining room table, naturally fascinated with newcomers. Fiona lit a cigarette and rose with a glass of rusty liquid in hand. She wrinkled her nose and muttered to Hale in passing, “Don’t let your guard down. There is something in this house.” With that, she meandered into the sitting room to enjoy or manipulate students as they played with their birth-given gifts. A cerebral cackle left her mouth as she passed her guard dog and set her sights on Jacqueline and Pell, two curiosities worth all of her attention. Fiona had certainly tried her hardest to gather Pell’s trust, which proved to be less taxing than the chore of getting her cousin’s. A work in progress, much like all jobs at Robichaux. Pell soon disappeared, bored to death probably and needing her space for a secret cigarette and half a bottle of Apothic to herself. Hale only knew this because she so often followed the same patterns.

He didn’t tense at Fiona’s warning. He simply carried on conversation with remarks like, “Oh, please tell me more about your origins!” and “Do either of you see yourselves here for the long haul?” Truth be told, he was deeply fascinated with fear reading, certainly when it chose someone discrete and timid such as Silas.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait:
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ıllıllı ⓚⓨⓛⓔ ⓢⓟⓔⓝⓒⓔⓡ ıllıllı

With phantom white fingers rubbing the black cuffs of his crisp jacket, the enthusiastic blonde listened with too much attentiveness as Hale gave him the response that he was familiar with, yet hated. Again with the whole maid thing, he really didn't like having to sit and eat when he could be doing something to make something- he didn't really know- special? Not that getting a meal served was very special, but it was something. Better than doing nothing. But as always Kyle merely nodded with a simple smile and left Hale be. He was a busy man after all, and the undead was never fond of making a big deal over requests. And because of such, he's never really asked why either. So sometimes when he laid down at night the thought lingered in his mind like a small math bubble that he couldn't pop. But then it would float away because knowing how things worked around here, which was hardly ever consistent, it could be because of any little thing. Literally, anything at all. Any excuse at all was good enough for pretty much everyone here except him. Whether that was because he was dead or not, he didn't know, but nevertheless he tried not to question it.

That usually led no where. Especially no place good.

But as Kyle scurried along his way with his shoes clunking like weights on the floors, he did what he could to help Arturo light the candles throughout the coven, even though most of the work had already been done. Why did everyone have to do his job for him? Again, Butler. Butler. But no matter. What was done was done and he wasn't about to go around tampering Arturo's Imagehandy work. That would just be childish. So instead he finished up what very little he had done and headed back for the dining room and took a free seat. Most everyone had already took a seat before he did, so he didn't have to wait around too long like he normally did. He liked letting people sit where they wanted to. Which was typically in the same spot most days since people were creatures of habit, but there were one- no, two- newcomers today. He didn't think the rainbow in these thunder clouds would stay or dinner, but he was glad she did. Even though he didn't even know her name.

He should probably introduce himself once everyone's done eating.

Sitting in his seat with his pearly white plate only slightly dirtied by a couple of mouthfuls of meats and vegetables, the butler smile widely at the cheerful conversations that filled the room. As usual, the young man didn't speak an entire word unless he was directly spoken too, which frankly didn't happen all too much. But despite the lack of verbal communication, Kyle felt just as connected to the group and it's chit chat as if he was. He laughed when others did, nodded eagerly at stories and comments, and even maintained eye contact which hardly was ever returned. He was basically the the closest thing someone could get to a wallflower without feeling excluded in any way.

Playing with the sparkling silverware next to his plate and tentatively nibbling at his food, Kyle perked his head ever so slightly as one of the conversations switched to the newcomers and their comfortability. Naturally, he took special note of their responses and twirled his fork in his meaty food and took a few gulps of his beverage.

Kyle had gotten into a habit of hardly ever finishing his food. In that aspect, as much as he hated to admit it, he was like a child. However, it wasn't because he was a picky eater. He was very open minded about new ideas and foods and like some adventurers says, he's willing to try everything once. But seeing as he wasn't sure if eating was necessarily essential for him or not, unlike all the souls in the room, he felt like he would be wasting food. Kyle never actually tested whether he could last without food, but he had thought about it. Because food was supposed to give you energy by nutrience being absorbed into the blood stream and then that was distributed throughout the body and such, but seeing that he didn't have any stream of blood flowing through his veins, he wasn't sure if it would make a difference. He didn't even know how it worked at all. He defied the basic law of nature that privileged the living to die and stay dead, and he lived despite having no heart beat. Yet he was still stronger than most people. That didn't make any sense. He wasn't sure if he would be surprised or not if he could go without eating either. Did he just defy all logic or was he still human in some way?

Maybe that's why he still ate, even if it wasn't a lot. Why he hadn't tested it out at all. Because he felt more human doing so. He felt more... Real.

Or maybe it was just a bad habit.

Ignoring the thoughts in his head, Kyle filled his wonder with the tasty words of the dinner table, having froze briefly as the candles went out. His mind was as blank as the darkness, but once the flames lit again, that didn't last long and he was full of giddy once again.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The food must have been amazing, Silas thought as the majority of the table tucked into the feast laid out in front of them. Expensive alcohol tumbled from stylish bottles, flowing freely for all around the table to partake in. It was quite unfortunately all lost on Silas. When he finally stopped himself from picking at the food in front of him (because, honestly, he wasn't a savage) and gave in to the temptation laid out in front of him, each bite tasted bland and ashy on his tongue, every sip an uncomfortable burn with no ability to savor what was before him. Nerves and the same sparks of anxiety that had thrummed through his body for the past few hours made it impossible to enjoy. The evening seemed fairly innocuous, but an underlying pressure and dark, warm atmosphere filled the air as thickly as the heavily perfumed world around him. Sitting there, cutting tasteless meat with all the precision of someone defusing a bomb, body just as tense, Silas was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something, anything, to happen that would make this ordinary Wednesday evening any different, for the true nature of the Ceremony to unveil itself to his virgin eyes.

Or, he was quite aware as he took another sip of Merlot (he would have preferred water or even soda, but that hardly seemed to be the thing to ask for, so he settled for delicately pretending that he was an alcohol connoisseur), he was putting far too much thought into this, which was, in all reality, just as likely if not more so. He kept his eyes determinedly focused on his plate, too embarrassed to even chance a glance towards the two girls across from him and too anxious to even attempt to speak with the rainbow-haired girl only one seat away. He was apparently the only one who felt that way as warm conversation filtered throughout the room, odds and ends of sentences unknown drifting his direction. He nodded ever so slightly every once in a while, just in case the crooned words were directed towards him or he was expected to chime in. The dim candlelight winked in and out of existence, usually paired with mirthful laughter from unknown faces.

He tensed a fraction more, an almost physical impossibility, when Hale plopped down beside him, a glass of some alcohol he didn't have currently have the presence of mind to identify sloshing gently. To make matters even worse, he seemed bound and determined to be sociable. Silas didn't mind social people- he himself had been known to flourish at the dinner parties hosted back home in Maryland- but right now... No. No, he really had no excuse. He had to give it the old college try, extend the proverbial olive branch to a friendly face. He steeled himself.

"Oh, haha, no. I'm just a little overwhelmed," Silas admitted with a hesitant, slightly pained smile. He didn't bother mentioning that being here wasn't exactly a choice so much as an order. It seemed rude to bring up and fell clearly on the "TMI" scale of things.

Now that the words were tumbling from his lips, he felt himself falling into old habits, wielding his weapon of polite small talk with the same precision and skill that a master fencer wielded their foil.

"But if I were to leave, it wouldn't be because of that. I've known that for years." The attempt at humor fell flat, perhaps, but it was clear that he was trying, lips tilting upwards into something a little more authentic. He let himself finish his meal as the conversation drifted to the other fish out of water seated beside Hale- Violet, he recalled now that his thoughts were settling either from the fact that people were now filtering out of the room or because of his general lack of experience with drinking any even slightly large quantity of alcohol.

Hale was clearly having a good time, giggles punctuating each remark. Silas allowed the other man's mirth to infect him, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten slightly. This- this he could do. He could ignore the chandelier swinging, the lights flickering, the thick aroma of herbs and perfumes, and even his own ignorance just for now and have something of a good time. Hopefully. It helped that now they were nearly alone, even Silas's roommate wandering off for sites more pretty and scenes more fascinating than the two wide-eyed newbies attempting to adjust.

The questions flowed steadily from Hale's mouth, and Silas moved to answer each one, although now his mind was a bit fuzzy. It was his third glass, the alcohol flowing as steadily as the conversation as additional new faces insisted on refilling his cup and he was too polite to brush off any attempted hospitality (it was obvious to everyone else, however, that it was more of an attempt to get him to either loosen up or see what kind of drunk the stiff new kid was).

The question of his own origins brought nothing to mind, his own life seeming so normal when looking back. That was the thing about perspective- his life was filled with oddities of a different breed then those residing or working here, but he thought he was perhaps the most normal boy in the world. Besides, he had no idea who had seen that so highly disconcerting file Pell had brandished at him earlier, or even what was in it. He'd hate to repeat information- information, the stubborn part of him added, that he didn't exactly want spread about thank you very much- anyone already knew.

"I'm not that interesting," Silas offered with a mild sort of smile. He adjusted his gloves, tugging at the finger tips. He was warm, too warm, and they were terribly stifling. "I grew up in Maryland with my aunt Lavinia. I graduated college... I've never seen- never done... this. It's all very... interesting." His eyes fluttered around to the world around him and his audience was left to decide if that was a critique on of the Academy's activities or a comment of wonder.

The gloves were finally removed almost unconsciously, placed on his lap. The air, although as warm as the night outside, was a blessing compared to the confines of the soft material swaddling his hands. This was fine, he reasoned. It wasn't as if anyone was going to try to shake his hand at this point.

"I think- I think you'll have me here as long as you want me? Not you- not you specifically. I mean the... Those..." He grasped for words to describe the three who had appeared in his aunt's house quite suddenly one day and sent him on this ridiculous journey. "Whoever wants me here." He finished lamely, tugging at his collar. The alcohol, the air, the people- it was stifling. Even his gloves falling to the wayside was only a momentary relief.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki
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Pell Laveau

Dull. Everything was dull. Pell’s enthusiasm had evaporated like blood into hot concrete, ugly brown remnants chipping and disintegrating into the air. So long. Goodbye. Beside Greyson she had parked herself for the entire ‘table set’ portion of Ceremony. One hand on the thigh, other hand promptly refilling a wine glass every time less than an inch of fluid remained in the crystal ware. She cast the occasional smile to Violet and Silas, watching them sort of bob along with the flow of Hale’s adamant briefing and almost needy exchange. He was always so eager to know the students. Silas, on the other hand, would waver in comfort and confidence. His eyes would oscillate to the light fixture. Or to the table decor. He was not at home, and he absolutely knew that. The Laveau girl could feel it. Pell’s shameless scrutiny burned so immodestly into him she was surprised he didn’t rigidly pivot to face her and speak through clenched teeth.

Her friendly hand, though, worried about no such body language from Greyson. At least there was a common understanding between these two. In fact, if written more syrupy perhaps in a five hundred page novel, an audience might admire and swoon over the relationship. Wasn’t that just how it went with modern romance? The more twisted the story, the more attention and devotion it garnered? Well, well, well. Greyson and Pell would make for a great hardcover, then. Greyson naturally brushed Pell off of her shoulder upon their first encounter. Maybe that was a defense mechanism. Greyson didn’t like getting entirely too close to people. Anyone. Much less, new students. That barrier melted off in no time; dorm sleepovers became a regular thing, the partnership in crime, late nights in the garden drinking whiskey and warmly whispering about what could have been a beautiful love affair. It just never took off. There were way, way, too many road blocks. More than Pell cared to admit. But why would she? It wasn’t anyone’s business. The failed ardor wasn’t about to be gossip on anyone’s lips. It wouldn’t even make it that far. Luckily, Greyson and Pell had accepted that with steel resolve. Their colloquy and behavior, though, didn’t change. They gave credence to the fact that, every once in a while, everyone needed someone. Even if the flirting sometimes was a bit diabolical.

ImageKyle sat across the table, quiet as per usual, but with his same little cordial smile. Like he was perfectly up to speed and more than interested in every topic being discussed. Pell shook her head, not with disapproval, but a sort of reserved admiration. He was a sweet soul. Pell shifted and weighed her options for the evening. She found herself uninterested by the levitating objects and now room-temperature steak. When Fiona rose, bored with newcomers, and du jour as hell in her getup, Pell inhaled with tedium. Three wine glasses deep, she relinquished and kissed Greyson’s hair before exiting through the front doors to get some fresh air. She could hear the muffled excitement buzzing from within the walls of Robichaux, but tonight, that just wasn’t an ideal atmosphere.

Again she felt that strange sensation. It was like being watched. That wasn’t uncanny at the academy, but this peculiar feeling, was. It was uninvited. She looked around swiftly. How embarrassing. Getting jumpy and paranoid at a place she’d been residing for months. Clearing her throat, she stuck a cigarette between pouted lips, eyes narrowed in cynicism as she let the flame come on its own. What was the sense in practicing control? Sucking in the toxins, she lazily ambled toward the courtyard, stopping short and circling back in just a few seconds. She’d from there meander down the more clandestine paths between the rose bushes.

Shuffling footsteps. Whipping around, Pell pulled the cigarette from her mouth. It became clenched between two bony fingers, quavering. From the foot of the dingy passage, even in the night, she could make out his dark circles. They cut into his face like black holes. His skin was pale and his cheeks were taut and hollow. None other than Rowe. “Shit, you scared me, Rowe.” Pell rolled her eyes, strung a free hand through her lavender hair and blew smoke toward the sky. Goosebumps had made a home on her porcelain skin. He was quiet. Nothing unusual there. Stepping closer, Pell sort of squinted at him, “Are you okay? Or are you just doing that thing where you avoid everyone and eat candy and maybe, yell when spoken to?” … Silence, again. An irritated laugh escaped her throat, bare feet hinging a little on the dirtied gray-brick beneath her, “Alright, I can see that being the crypt keeper is way more satisfying to you than anything else. Excuse me.” She rolled her eyes again, stepping by him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki
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Mr. B

With Fiona’s gaunt warning in mind, the council scout had risen to his feet with haste. But he didn’t move much. Instead Hale yanked Kyle to his side, a large hand clasping the boys bony shoulder. With a hearty shake, he sighed and spoke into blond tresses, “You should interact more freely, you are not just an academy ornament. You are also someone people want to know.” A reassuring, but goofy grin spread across Hale’s face. The happy haze of being buzzed became bleached and nonexistent. There indeed, was something in the air. Something not right. Not human, nor witch, nor warlock. Hale would let it roll off his square shoulders like nothing. But it did bother him. Ate at him in a frustrating way that he simple had to get to the bottom of before the night was up. That was, if some disaster didn’t strike before then.

Oh, stop thinking that way! The shield was set. The veil is unflawed. Cordelia has been doing this for years. With the help of the Supreme, she can pull off anything. Without fail or a single glitch. Why would you assume something would go wrong? Tonight of all nights? Why? Ceremony is always the safest night of the week, don’t you know that from teaching at Robichaux? Have you learned nothing?

Spastically, Hale beat a flat palm to his left ear, as if hoping to empty bad thoughts out of the right. Suddenly his eyes widened. Scanned his surroundings. Kyle’s confused eyes, rainbow trout twitching, Silas anxiously trying to resume conversation as if nothing strange had happened. Speaking hesitantly about being overwhelmed. A mawkish and priceless beam settled into Hale’s toothy mouth, eyes so narrow they were nearly slits. He must have looked the way a dog did when putting its head out the window of a car. A car doing fifty five miles an hour. Instead of flapping, his cheeks stayed pinned by the corners of his mouth, “Nonsense, that will go away in a little while. Soon you will settle right into the swing of it all, and feel no sense of hierarchy. It’s really a cozy little system - err, family, almost, if you will. I find Cordelia to be quite accommodating, and really such a great teacher.” His eyes twinkled and he caught himself, “And you, you…” His gaze inhabited Silas’ soul, “You strike me as someone who might have a lot to teach others, as well. How exactly do you feel about your gifts, Silas Abernathy?”

ImageHe felt the ridge in the ambiance. It was like this chill cut into the warmth of Ceremony. Something uninvited had arrived. “Hmmm,” Hale rubbed idly at the clean shaven flesh of his chin. The same hand that had perched itself below his mouth struck Kyle’s wrist momentarily, “Go get Arturo. We need to scale some… Of the property. Indoor and out.” He tried to lower his voice as to avoid causing alarm. Quickly he turned away, the height of his cheeks once again shining with rapture, peering at Silas again. Who, was, tugging at his collar and murmuring gradually about only remaining at the academy if he was wanted. Who, was he wanted by - if anyone? That sort of insecurity seemed to be a common theme with newbies. Adorable, really.

As if it weren’t enough that something or someone was intruding, there was now blood slicking the air. And it was by no means some voluntary mishap, an innocent bit of experimentation. It smelt like Pell, burned into existence as a combined redolence of menthol and ichor. Where on earth was Jacqueline? She hadn’t been nearby in what felt like hours. Hale became a bit tense, knees locking as he glanced around the dining room and into the lounge. The chandeliers began to swing at a more rapid pace, an obvious but subtle alarm that had been triggered. Cordelia was out of sight and, from the looks of it, had alerted nor bothered no one else. Truthfully, Hale would have hated to be any more impolite or caused any more broken and perhaps annoying conversation. Even if it were for the good of the academy. He may have then, found it appropriate, to bend some rules.

“Silas would you care to join me on the terrace? I’d like to get some fresh air and maybe see if any of our students have wandered outside. I have a feeling Fiona would like everyone to regroup tonight rather than dispersing and sort of, well, doing their own thing. There might be some general knowledge to be shared.” Graciously he offered a hand, if Silas would accept.

And what would he find beyond the doors? Nothing at all, right?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara
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Greyson hadn’t been much of a lively dinner guest, but that was never her forte anyhow. Most of the meal consisted of her consuming to much wine and watching the new comers with the matching intensity of Pell. It was so pleasant to have someone who she could just know she was on the same page, but it had always been that way with Pell. She had been this wonderful possibility, but Greyson knew she couldn’t keep anyone close, for their own safety.

Biting her tongue to not make a comment that she might be reprimanded later as being rude, Greyson watched the painful exchange between Hale and Silas. She honestly pitied Hale for his genuine caring nature, he was still new to the Academy from her eyes. That being said, he had many other reasons that left her thinking of very many ways to be very, very, very nice to him. She pretended to be interested in what Silas and Pell’s pet had to say, still having Pell beside her to look over to every now and again, almost like a refresher.

Honestly, one of the main perks of dinner was usually the fact that all of the seasoned coven members would sit together, so Greyson didn’t have to tolerate the small talk bull shit. She wasn’t even sure how they had room for two people, when it clicked to her. The boy was usually so equally sullen and quiet, she hadn’t noticed his absence. Scanning the table for Aden, she made eye contact with Kyle, looking away quickly.

Everyone else had continued the conversation, the new comers professing a want to dive right into the coven, it took everything she had not to scoff. Pell took the BS queu as a moment to leave, she felt the girl lean in beside her, kissing the side of her head. Greyson had almost instinctually wrapped her arm around the girl, not phasing any other way, letting her hand linger as the girl walked away. Now she was alone, without an ally, which was not good.

While Silas did seem entirely endearing, there was almost this sickly naive part of him that just made Greyson want to vomit what little food she had consumed right onto his plate. The girl with the technicolor hair was tolerable, she just seemed sort of out of touch with the world, but Silas just had something about him that made her feel like he should know better than to appear so optimistic. As he spoke about his past and of wanting to stay, Greyson couldn’t help but groan. She received a stern glance from Hale, which caused her to smile briefly before straightening up in her chair.

“Wow, Silas, you are right. That was not interesting at all.” Greyson stood, shooting back the last of her wine and sleekly pulling out yet another cigarette. “Welcome to the coven, I suppose then.”

Hale was shooting daggers at her with his eyes, she wouldn’t be surprised if he stormed out after her in a rage, but she also knew he’d feel a sense of obligation to mend the damage. She could hear Madison behind her, “And I’m supposed to be the bitch around here?”

Yet again she found herself on the front porch, lighting her cigarette. She wasn’t able to pinpoint what it was that made her say the things she did, or feel the way she felt. She desperately wanted to want to be nice, but Greyson was pretty sure she was incapable of thinking outside of her own world most times. There were a few people in this world she found tolerable, Pell being one, Aden another - Kyle once upon a time.

As if someone had blown a breath on the back of her neck, Greyson felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She stared out onto the gate, stepping forward, slowly. ”Aden?” She called out, inching closer. Where was that kid? Movement on her left caught her eye, she jumped, spotting Rowe and Pell. “For fucks sake..” she mumbled under her breath, and for a moment - she smiled to herself.

Analyzing the situation, she could see the tension and body language between the two. Greyson rounded onto Pell’s side, burning cigarette still in hand, “Everything alright here?” She asked, looking between the two. There was something in Rowe she recognized, maybe in his eyes or from the way he stood, but she could sense the hostility growing from within him. She saw a bit of her own madness buried under his own layers, recognizing the demon that fueled his reactions. “You okay?” was all she asked, her voice monotonous as ever.

She would have asked Pell the same question, but the woman was stronger than steel, she was sure it would have been more offensive than caring. Eyes shifting to the windows of the house, she could see people head to the door, and while she had found the source of her noise she still had the sensation that someone else was out there. She looked back behind her, to the gate again, looking for someone. Goosebumps her rising up and down her arms. For the first time Greyson’s confidence wavered, her arm wrapping across her torso to run her fingers up and down her arms, perplexed by the way her body was strangely reacting to the situation.

With genuine confusion, Greyson looked up at the others. “Am I the only one that feels that?”

She risked sounded mad because the sliver of hope that it wasn’t all in her mind meant everything. She looked at Pell for the first time, searching her face. There was a look she had never seen on Pell's face....anger, fear? There was nothing to compare it to, so often Pell kept the same mild smirk or neutral expression. If it wasn't for the lavender hair, she almost wouldn't be able to recognize the girl. "Pell? What's up?" she asked softly.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki
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Pain. All there was in this dream was pain. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she had and awoken in a horrible dream, demons, running, fear, but mostly pain. She'd awoken with a start, having pulled herself violently from the dream, that was always a bad idea, Dreamwalkers should never pull themselves from a dream, it should be gradual, like slipping on a shoe, gently sliding back into her own mind, but no, she snapped back in like an arrow from a bow, and the result was a blinding headache and a residual feeling of paranoia.

Her watch beeped. It was time for ceremony, for a while now, and she was impossibly late. Groaning miserably, she pulled herself from the chair, she'd fallen asleep in, her memory of how she got there was fuzzy. She remembered she had been with Lazarus...she'd offered to help him with his dreams....or she had thought about it. That was the problem with shoving back into her body, her memories were now all askew and it was likely that she wouldn't get them back.

Stretching with a yawn, her body popped and cracked satisfyingly before she slowly made her way to her own room, far on the other side of the building. Once inside she peeled off her clothes, and prepared for Ceremony.

Drenched in all black, she wore a black dress that hugged her frame, she spun her dark hair over her shoulder and pinned it there, lined her eyes with a khol liner and kissed her lips with a crimson lipstick. She felt like shit but that certainly didn't mean she had to look like it.

She made her way toward the others, her head still pounding but stopped when she got an odd feeling, deep in her chest, that tingled her spine.

She found herself toward Madison's room and Jacqueline felt her stomach sink, something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones, and while she never liked Madison, she would a sparkly bitch but still, something was very wrong.

She knocked on the door. "Madison?" She called but silence was her reply. "Madison, Are you in dz'ere?" She called, worry evident in her voice. Something told her to just go inside, Her heart racing. Her head pounding even more so now, the paranoia from the dream washing over her like a violent wave. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, and slowly turned it.

She was hit first with the smell. Thick, coppery, being female, she knew the smell well, the feeling she got from it was not poor hygiene, this was something dark, malicious, hungry

"Madison, 'chere, you 'ave to say somet'ing." She said, fear thick in her throat and it was then she peeked around the corner, her booted foot slipped on something sticky and wet. She gripped the wall, so not to fall, her hand touched something sticky and wet as well, but that when she saw her.

Or, more correctly, what was left of her.

"Oh mon dieu!" Jacqueline clapped her hand over her mouth, at the horribly sight, blood was everywhere, Madison's bed was soaked in it, bits of bone, and cloth from her clothes lay scattered in the blood drenched bed, her phone lay covered in her blood, still shining from it's unfinished text. Jacqueline then remembered her dream.

It wasn't a dream...more like she'd projected in to Madison, as if she'd called out telepathically, in her final moments.

Who would do this?

Madison was a bitch, was...past tense, but she did not deserved to be butcher like this....

Just as she was about to run out of the room, she turned and saw in thick dripping letters the word...


Jacqueline felt sick, and dizzy, when she noticed her hand smeared the last letter when she slipped on the blood. She bolted out of the room and toward the common area.

"HELP!" she screamed out. Everyone had been seated for dinner. "Madison ... quelque chose est arrivé .... quelque chose d'horrible..." She stammered, her vision blurring, she was shaking violently, her hand still stained with Madison's blood. She closed her clean over her mouth, trying to will the bile back down her throat.

*Madison...something happened....something horrible.