amaradrakos

[amaradrakos]

[amaradrakos]

Adria Arjona

[amaradrakos]

"That is true." Though even that time was trickling away as he sat with her, making no move to act. He looked tired, worn down by the mere idea of taking the next step. Amara turned her attention to the glittering water before them, granting him a moment of private reflection. "You know, sometimes, to help others, we need to help ourselves first."

His description was vague, but science and technology were not her forte. There was no need for either in the Underworld, and diving further into one field or the other would've meant nothing to her—not that she was about to admit that. "What sort of things?" A curious tilt of the head, an upwards flick of a brow. "Anything worth investing into?" It was never too early to plan the next step.

Judging by his reply, he was either fiercely loyal or had a more personal connection to Matthew than he let on. Given that he’d only recently stopped working for the demon, the latter seemed far more likely. An insight Amara decided to tuck away for later.

"I suppose you could say that, yes." She gave him a faintly wistful smile. "I'm still in the process of getting reacquainted with everything. I haven't been at liberty to go where I please for a very long time." The words lingered for only a moment before she turned toward him, extending her hand. "Amara Drakos. Pleasure to meet you."

He shrugged with a slightly guilty set to his shoulders. "Not yet, but there's still time." He glanced over to watch two people run by, wishing that he'd chosen a fairytale that was a bit more happy and clear cut, but just sat back a bit further beside Amara. "Vivian's another vampire, she's set up a research organization to combine supernatural stuff with science."

"I- I don't know, no comment." She was right about Matthew sometimes going on a self pity spiral, but Chris had thought it was more like a kind of lasting depression than anything purposeful. But he probably wasn't the right person to say that, and if Matthew heard Chris talking about him behind his back it could end badly. "I'll take your word for it. Are you new to Vievecor?" It seemed like she knew Matthew but not anyone else in the city.

[amaradrakos]

Amara nodded. For now, maybe was enough. It always took the fair and righteous a moment to realize that justice wasn’t to be found within their own ranks. “If you do decide to branch out, you should come find me.”

“Eyes like these?” An impish grin curled on her lips as she echoed the spirit’s words. “Are you calling me old?” She was joking, of course, the temptation to fish for compliments too good to pass up. Especially if the pay-off was even the faintest flicker of color in Naz’s cheeks.

“What kind? The ones who’d leave another woman at the side of the road after just one glance at you?” Amara tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. If those were the kind she had been trying to scare off, who was she hoping would seek her out? "If you were trying to hide your beauty, I'm afraid you failed. All of this?" Amara motioned at the spider's many legs. "It only enhances it. There's beauty in more than just appearances."

“I was talking about your business partner,” she clarified, slightly surprised by Naz’s quick dismissal. The spirit seemed genuine, though. “I see now I missed the mark, and for that, I apologize." Still, there had to be someone else then. Whether Naz wanted to see it or not, she had chosen a character who was destined not to end up alone. Someone whose happy ending was a husband. At least part of her, however hidden, had to be yearning for someone. And by all appearance that someone wasn't just anyone.

Taking the offered hand, Amara followed Naz to the water’s edge. Crouching, she let her fingertips ghost along the surface, sending water skippers scattering. “Together,” she said softly, though she already knew the wish would fail. When no change came—the air silent, the tall grass undisturbed—she met Naz’s eyes in silent acknowledgment. Their wish, like so many before it, remained unfulfilled.

Straightening, Amara waved her hand, magic shimmering faintly as it reshaped their surroundings. The grass parted to reveal a comfortable spot for them to sit. “See?” she murmured, a faint smile on her lips. “You only need to ask the right people.”

The princess was blunt but it did give the spirit pause. "Maybe you're right," she agreed. She had learned not to ask for much because it was better to not be disappointed. Over the years it had made the spirit independent and hard working but it also made her push people away. She didn't like relying on anyone but herself.

"I do," Naz promised. "With eyes like those, I'd believe that you hold the wisdom's of the world within them so why wouldn't I want to share stories with you?" she asked. It was a fair trade, a wish for a wish and a comfortable seat. The past few weeks had been a strain on her body and she found herself growing weary easily.

"I was hoping I'd be spooky enough to scare away those kind of men," she said with a soft laugh. Naz was starting to realise that the princess wasn't really a princess, they were just themself. No princess would flirt with a spider, even a pretty one. "My partner?" she repeated in confusion, her brow furrowing. Elliot was the closest thing she had to a partner but not in the romantic sense, at least not anymore. "I don't have a partner, it's just me," she finished lamely, shrugging her shoulders.

"Now how about we see if our wishes will work?" she asked, offering the princess her hand as she approached the pond's edge. The water shimmered with magic but the spirit couldn't help but wonder what lived under the surface. Shaking herself of the "Should we make the wish together?"

[amaradrakos]

-ˏˋ Adria Arjona (1992) ˊˎ

crédit: kidd

[amaradrakos]

"That’s very noble," Amara commented evenly, nodding her head slowly. "And have you helped anyone yet?" By all accounts, she should have found him annoying—pathetic, even. His objective of helping others should have been laughable to j´her, at least by the deities’ definition of what her kind was supposed to be. But she didn’t. Contrary to popular belief, other people’s misery wasn’t a demon’s top priority. There was an air of melancholy hanging around him, and though she suspected the optimism hiding behind it to be far more grating, she wasn’t entirely opposed to finding out firsthand.

"Vivian Ambrose?" The name didn’t ring any bells, though he made it sound like it should have. She wasn’t a demon, that much Amara knew, but beyond that, she was drawing a blank. "I’m going to assume you didn’t switch one bartending job for another?"

His comment about Matthew made her laugh. "Mhm. Yeah, that sounds like him. I will never understand his obsession with being bitter and miserable." She did understand where it stemmed from—why Matthew felt the need to act that way—but she was determined to put an end to his unnecessary pity party. Several centuries of self-flagellation were plenty. "He’ll come around. Just give it some time."

For a moment Chris considered telling her where to find what's-his-face in britain, but decided that maybe it was better to just keep his mouth shut rather than cause an international incident. Though it would be funny.

The real world felt far away and hazy right now, and Chris couldn't quite remember what was going on beyond what he'd already told people about his costume choice. "I'm going through some ups and downs right now, so bittersweet worked for me. So I've tried to help other people find what they're looking for tonight."

He shifted slightly uncomfortably at the mention of Matthew, but raised an eyebrow when she talked about him avoiding her. "Yeah I worked at his bar. I left just a little while ago and now I'm working for Vivian Ambrose. I'd offer to help, but I think he's still a little bit hurt by me quitting."

[amaradrakos]

for: @ursanazyalensky

location: Hedon, Ursa's church

Amara had never set foot inside a church before. There hadn’t been any the last time she’d walked the earth, and the altars they’d worshiped at had been of a very different kind. Still, she’d known Ursa long enough to trust that she wouldn’t burst into flames the moment she crossed the threshold. Wily tales be damned.

He was a man of duality—a glutton for war and yet composure incarnate. Someone far more suited to standing at the helm of a church than preaching in one. He had been the only deity who’d ever made an ounce of sense. —Naturally, the others had cut him down for it. Though, in Amara's opinion, they’d done him a favor.

As she approached the sacristy, the faint murmur of activity in the nave faded into stillness. The door stood ajar, and Amara rapped her knuckles against the worn wood before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Don’t you look handsome,” she greeted, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his cheek. “Is that even allowed?” Drawing back, she brushed an invisible speck of lint from his shoulder, her fingers briefly tugging his clerical collar with a teasing grin. “I can see how you turn poor Astrid’s head.”

She lingered briefly in the playful moment, but there was business to attend to. As fun as it was to rustle his feathers, that wasn't what she had come here to do. She was to be Thomas Albert Henderson's third wife. He was her big fish in an even bigger pond—the first of many, if she had her way. Their wedding was a necessary if unpleasant means to an end.

Twisting her engagement ring absently around her finger—a trophy ring for a trophy wife—Amara leaned back against the cupboard behind her, her expression softening into something more serious. "I was hoping to employ your services. How would you feel about officiating my wedding?"

[amaradrakos]

[amaradrakos]

"Maybe you have a habit of asking the wrong people," Amara told her bluntly, though there was no malice in her words—only a quiet, unmistakable offer hanging in the air as she held Naz's gaze. She didn't expect the spirit to take her up on it, but she felt an almost carnal desire to wrap her hands around the throat of the sadness she found in those eyes, to squeeze the life out of it until it no longer drew breath.

There was no point in trusting the universe to deliver justice, it cared as little as its favored children—the Firstborn, Gods, Angels, Deities—whatever you called them. The story remained the same: the saviors only ever saved themselves. —But Amara was no savior. She had come into the world with dirt under her nails and blood on her hands; a clean slate had never been in the cards.

Her chin lifted an inch, lips parting in surprise as the quick sting of her anger faded upon hearing the other woman's suggestion. "If that is what you want," she conceded, nodding toward the gleaming body of water once more. "One of yours, for one of mine."

A soft laugh carried on her breath as Amara briefly turned her gaze away. "You must've not met many men since you stepped through the portal then. Or they must have been both blind and stupid not to leave their princesses on the side of the road to chase after you."

Whether flirting with a spider was in or out of character for Sleeping Beauty, she couldn't have cared less. The princes spent most of her own story asleep, with little to no agency of her own, so there was even more satisfaction to be found in doing whatever the hell she pleased than usual.

"What about your partner? You seem close. No couples' costume?"

The things that Naz wanted had nothing to do with a fairy tale ending so it seemed pointless to use them. "I've had a rough few weeks, my belief in wishes and happy endings has dwindled," Naz admitted. There were things she could wish for but why would she want to spin yarn all night?

A spirit wasn't prone to good luck. Naz had already died one horrific death and almost died another. If anything, a wish might just make it three for three and end it all. "If I did want something, I don't think the pond would be willing to give it me. Maybe I have a habit of asking for too much." Naz had built a perfect life once and ran away from it so maybe she just wasn't worthy of one of the happy endings on offer. It didn't mean that Amara didn't have to enjoy one.

She couldn't help but feel like she was offending the woman when she was trying to be polite. Politeness had it's place and maybe that wasn't in fairy tales. "Perhaps we can wish for a comfortable seat to exchange stories on?" she suggested. Passing on a wish was a noble thing to do even if Naz had no desire to make wishes. It wasn't like she could wish for her house back.

It was a good thing the legs were an illusion instead of part of her because the spirit would have shivered under it. The princess wasn't coy nor shy like others in fairy tales so she wondered if she was under a spell at all. "My story is called the spider bride. I would be the bride but there's no man seeking me out," she answered.

[amaradrakos]

"Reason," Amara snapped, her voice cutting as a fireball zipped past his face in warning. "What do you take me for? A fool?" Her eyes narrowed, burning with accusation. "Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your ploy?"

Her gaze locked on Caleb’s hand as it moved toward his knife, another fireball forming at her palm as she seethed. "Now you show your true face, filthy scoundrel! You were planning to dispose of me all along so you would have her to yourself."

"Terrible thi--" Caleb was about to confess when something flew out of the trees behind them to hit Amara square in the back. He started and reached out, wanting to shield her from anything else that might come their way when he noted the way her demeanour had suddenly shifted.

"My lady? What's come over you?" he asked when he saw flames erupt from her hands. This princess was not the type of princess Caleb was used to. "Uh, I won't escort you to the castle if that it what you wish..." he added, his hand moving towards the knife he kept in his belt for self-defense.

[amaradrakos]

"She must not have had the right friends," Amara mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I would've made him pay for that." Dearly—and with no small amount of pleasure.

The demon rarely concerned herself with the comings and goings of human royalty. That sort of information didn’t circulate in the Underworld. Despite persistent rumors, she knew the British didn’t descend from a long line of werewolves. But it seemed to be something he occupied himself with, and while he struck her as the sentimental type, there seemed to be something deeper at play as well. It was almost as though he identified with them—as if he’d been human himself not too long ago.

"For him? Yes, I suppose it would be." For the lovers it was merely tragic. Yet there was a kind of peace in their shared doom. Amara's gaze dipped briefly before rising again, quietly assessing him. "Is that why you picked it?"

At his question her lips curled into a small smile. "To facilitate conversation with Maleficent." Her grin widened, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. "You worked for him, didn’t you? Matthew? He prefers to avoid me like the plague." A casual shrug followed. "I’d prefer to change that."

"Uh no, Diana was a real person who married one of the british royals who was a complete piece of shit and cheated on her." He was pretty sure she was a demon, so she was probably old enough to have been alive at the time. Had she just recently come to earth or something like that? "The character sort of succeeds, the murderer gets caught, but the lovers die, so it's a bittersweet ending I guess." Fitting enough for where he was in life right now.

He nodded. "Yeah I ran across that when I was researching for my costume. Why did you choose sleeping beauty?"

[amaradrakos]

"That's exactly what an axe murderer would say," Amara muttered with a slight huff, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Still, she stepped forward to help the person dangling from Gerard's balcony, taking hold of their arm to pull them over the railing. Once their shoes touched the dark grey tiles, she stepped back, tugging the sliding door shut behind her to block out the view of the unconscious man inside. Drawing her robe tighter around her shoulders, she motioned toward the stranger's leg. "You're bleeding."

for: open! (@vievecorcitystarters)

location: ... a roof your character is on! (open to interpretation)

✞ – "Never do parkour when you’re not feeling it, dummy. That’s when you make stupid mistakes.”

Davis could hear his brother’s smug remark clear as a cloudless night under a new moon. It was one of the places that Marcus might be, now, among the stars. Back into whatever dust human beings were created from, molded by deep umbral hands. Or, he was just rotting somewhere, food for strays and worms. All of the truths that could exist, ugly or beautiful, didn't really matter.

What mattered was, he wasn't here, and the echoes of Marcus Healy didn't get a say, no matter how much Davis' ears tried to play their tricks. Any more pissing around and he'd get rusty, so, it was time to go again.

The first few jumps were sloppy, fumbling things. Paint smeared converse old enough to drive skidded like the hooves of a newborn faun, clumsy and prone to twisting wrong. But, after failing upwards for a while, he started to get into the flow. After that, he decided to gain some altitude and get up on the roofs where it mattered. One, two, three, four, five. He was getting across buildings just fine, but he forgot just how much of a jump the last dive on his route was. 

Gravity's jaws snapped at his ankles like a great beast, scraped its jagged teeth along his skin. But it didn't eat today. Good, stay fucking hungry. 

"Shit!" Davis barked, then hissed as he hung over an alley, off the side of... some sort of building. Honestly he wasn't sure. He'd just always known it as The worst jump. All he knew is when he looked up, he was staring someone down. If it weren't for the pain shooting up his leg from where his knee collided with a wall, he'd have the mind to maybe be... embarrassed or something. 

"Uh, hi. Fuck," he said, breathless but starting to scramble up anyway. His lungs had fucking words. His mouth took a bit to catch up. 

"Please. Don't call- the cops. M'not an axe murderer-! Just an idiot."

[amaradrakos]

Adria Arjona by Kevin Berru.

[amaradrakos]

"Too slow," Amara’s voice came from just behind him, her tone edged with amusement as she had successfully teleported out of the way of Matthew's curse. She had to give him points for the dramatic delivery—even if it was two-thirds movie villain, one-third childish tantrum.

"Your wrath won’t help you," she continued. "I was created long before your ancestors were a thought in anyone's mind." She doubted he would make the same attempt twice, but if he was that desperate to embarrass himself, she would let him. "When faced with an opponent who is clearly more powerful than you are, relying on brute strength will only wear you down."

Matthew yanked his sceptre away from Amara's taunting finger as he did not even want to entertain her touching anything that belonged to him. Was it the Nightspire spell that was making his blood boil even more? That hardly mattered though, not when Matthew was more than happy to give into his anger. The fallen deity was not a fan of Underworld demons even if he was closer to them these days, but they were just so... annoying.

"If a curse is what you're asking for, then a curse you shall have," he said, voice low as he lifted a hand to point a long-nailed finger at Amara. Matthew was well-versed in curse magic on a regular day and conjuring one that would put the other demon under a spell of eternal slumber was not difficult. He did not need his sceptre for this. The spell took barely a moment to form at the tip of his finger before it shot itself towards her.

[amaradrakos]

"Why not? Everyone wants something." Amara stated, letting her voice drop to a low rumble as she tried to read the other woman. Some of that divine empathy could've been useful then but she had always managed well enough without it. Usually her marks remembered themselves, though, and didn’t wear disguises that hid them from themselves as much as from others. “Don’t you?”

There was so much the spirit could ask for—everything from her own happy ending to someone else’s, a leg up, an encounter with a prince, a fairy godmother. The possibilities were endless.

Then again, Amara had no intention of using her wishes or the ones she had collected from others either. With her memories intact, her happy ending wasn't a happy ending at all. She had no interest in playing house with a complete stranger just to attend a ball whose main attraction was serial weddings, where everyone would shove their happy-go-lucky attitudes in her face and down her throat. She was already living her bad ending, what was one more night? It couldn't be worse than being stuck in the Underworld.

"I know the odds. The odds are we pour our combined wishes into the pond, and not a single one of them gets granted." She tried not to let her hurt show at having her offer rejected, but her words came out a little sharp regardless. "It's a game of chance. The only way to win is to play."

Reigning in her wounded pride and her hurt feelings—damn, this spell was making her sentimental—she let her gaze drop to the spider's many legs, lightly grazing one with the back of her forefinger. "What is your story."

There had been whispers in the market place, talking of the magical pond and the wishes you could request. Knowing what she did about demon's and magic, the spirit knew that these might be considered favours rather than wishes. The woman didn't look like she was trying to trick her so she was surprised by the incredibly kind offer. She was beautiful enough to be Snow White so it was hard to tell if the woman was going to be an evil queen or the innocent princess.

"I don't think I would be the lucky one. I don't even know what I would wish for," she admitted. "But it is incredibly kind of you to offer." Naz hadn't used up any of her wishes, unsure what to wish fore. She could not ask for something lost to be returned and asking for her happy ending felt strange. She didn't want to force someone into marrying her. "Or are you trying to see what the odds are on a wish? I think you'd have better luck than me." The dead weren't really the lucky type considering how unlucky in life they had been.

[amaradrakos]

"Don't you think you would have heard of it by now if there was a catch to it." Word would have spread faster than they could contain it. Though Amara had to admit, the magical pond would’ve been infinitely more entertaining if some trickery were involved. "Who's Diana? Is she a princess from your fairy tale?"

"I can't say I've heard of it before." And she’d encountered all kinds of elves—some of them now long extinct. "Does he not succeed, then?" It seemed odd to choose a character who failed at his objective, even in his own story. Usually, it was the ‘villains’ who failed, not the protagonists—or at least, in the romanticized versions they did.

"Sleeping Beauty. I've been keeping an eye out for spindles." And Matthew. A faint furrow to her brows, she tilted her head at him. "Did you know that in the original tale, it isn't the Prince who wakes her but the child she bears him?" And the humans had the audacity to call them twisted.

"I don't know, it's demons so I figured there might be a catch. You wish for a prince and what's his face who cheated on Diana shows up." Everything with demons was supposed to come with a price, right? He saw her looking at his costume and shrugged, hitching one of the rose garlands up on his shoulder. "I looked up fairytales and I found 'the rose elf.' He sees a murder and tries to help straighten things out. Which princess are you?"

[amaradrakos]

Though she loathed to admit it, his mere presence quickened her blood. It had been an eternity and a half since she'd stood face to face with a deity—and for it to be one as ancient and powerful as he was. His very soul seemed to call out to her, begging to be devoured in the most violent of ways.

But times had changed, and this was not war.

Reigning her hunger in by the scruff of the neck, Amara kept her distance, the shake of her head almost demure. "I haven't." She was caught between pretending her mind had been consumed by the Nightspire Spell and speaking to him truthfully. "A princess, a cloak of invisibility, a battleaxe... a different ending," she recounted, watching him carefully. "Have you come to make a wish of your own?"

A magical pond. The idea of it was both fascinating and predictable but Matthew would not be hearing about it from the deity. He was..in fact, considering testing it out when someone close to him raised their voice. Why he did not believe he had seen her before. "..have you? What kind of wishes?" Arjun returned, one half of his mouth curled up as he voiced his questions. "..and does that mean you tried, too?"