not-your-chosen

[not-your-chosen]

@sah1x1s gets a ghostie

----

they weren't the new visitors, no Cole was. He was drawn to the space, the poorly lit dining room, the bassinet in the bedroom, beers in the fridge. The space even more liminal now with Cole's presence solidified in the house.

There were signs, as usual. The cold spots in the kitchen while the other boys were visiting. How the bassinet, creaky as always, would creak as Cole rocked it gently, the baby comforted by the ghosts presence or Cole hoped. It was one of those nights. She woke, Cole rocked.

"Flightless bird, Walker wanting wings, powerless to powder. She's your saint, isn't she?" He mutters, watching the man stirred. \

He must've gotten a look at him before Cole became invisible, His eyes bouncing off the night lights like a deer in headlights through his blond curls. He disappears, chuckling.

[not-your-chosen]

"I never left you." He states, as if it was obvious. Something in the room shifts, the air changes and in a moment Cole is just gone. not perched on the hospital beds foot anymore, then this sort small imperceptible whoosh happens and Cole is sat cross legged in the chair Dick points out. "Little red was there to catch you! He's not a bird as well, is he?"

The blond curls are still in his face though it parts in one way to show his eye and its becoming a bit more apparent now that his form is mailable, not quite there, because of the shifting around and His eye is the distinct icy blue not a human colour, not really, anyways.

"Was he a red bird?" He asks, shifting to squat in the chair, perched like a gargoyle that doesn't know how to sit like a human. Because he isnt. "You were all red birds, werent you?"

"Mmh. not a cardnal. a robin!"

He looks at dick as if he has made some sort of grand revelation, smile beaming and icy blue eye squinted in laugh lines.

'If you fall they'll catch you, If you fall they'll catch you.' Cole's voice was inside of Nightwings head, talking over and over as he balanced on the beam weakly while he clutched his head and blinded by blood. He sure hoped someone would catch him because he didn't really have a choice, his body was weak and he was about to fall. He couldn't stand up let alone climb down from the great height. Nightwing fell to the side as his body tumbled towards the ground, his arms folding in like a bird falling out of the sky. Redhood caught him with only a few feet to spare. They got him to safety while trying to get a glimpse of the boy who Nightwing was talking to. --- At hearing Cole's voice Dick sat up quickly and looked around to see if anyone was there. He went to call for help, he wanted to ask how the hell he was able to get into the hide out and what the hell had he done to him but he knew better. He didn't want to startle the boy, he didn't want a repeat of last time. "Hey Cole" Dick spoke softly as he kept his heart and mind steady. He felt exposed with no mask and only a pair of boxers under the blanket. "You found me, come sit in down" he gestured to the chair next to him.

[not-your-chosen]

/// blog will be under construction for a bit and ill try to get some semblance of a character doc up

[not-your-chosen]

She hadn’t slept well in a while. Maybe it was the quiet of the flat instead of their little cot with everyone else on base, maybe it was what the therapist said: when you finally exit survival mode, you start remembering, having nightmares, because you’re finally safe to do so.

When Simon wordlessly gestured to the door she had gotten ready in silence before heading out. When the man stopped them she had flinched for a moment, before she realized what was going on. If he was saying anything bad Simon would’ve done something, and now looking behind the jolly man, seeing the realistic charcoal drawings she looked in curiosity.

She hadn’t remembered much about the outside since being in the lab but she was utterly enraptured taking in the art before a silence washed over the two men. She looked back up at Simon, trying not to look too pleading but… what a wonderful thing to be depicted in such a gorgeous art-form!

Simon -> Ro (@not-your-chosen)

Giving Ro a sardonic expression, Ghost simply rolled his eyes and gestured for them to exit the flat, his hand reaching out to grab his balaclava scarf that doubled as his mask on warmer days. He knew Ro wasn't feeling that well so when he'd asked and all he'd gotten in response was a shrug, he had to intervene.

Once they were on their way to the shop down the way that sold the little pastries that Ro loved and, in his opinion, ate way too much of, they were stopped abruptly by one of the street vendors, making their living busking or in this case drawing people as they passed for a quid or two.

"And what about the two of ye? A nice sketch of kin? I'm sure when you're older, you'd regret not having a moment frozen in time with the daughter!" He exclaimed, grinning at the large man and more petite girl at his side, causing Ghost to blink a few times before realizing what the busker meant, which only led him to widen his eyes and glance at Ro out of the corner of his eye, head tilted.

[not-your-chosen]

"No worries." She smiled understandingly. Looking down at the tea menu on the counter, they looked over the small variety listed down. after thinking about trying the lemon lavender, she decided to go with something abit more safe "Can i get a hot earl grey latte with no sweetener?"

Looking up back at the man in front of her, she smiled a little at the chocolate smeared on his face still. "Were you having a tasting?"

"You still have some stuff on your face." she adds, motioning to where the chocolate smears would be on her face.

Simon scowled at Soap, grumbling under his breath as the man just ignored him and kept eating the ingredients he was using to make the last batch of cookies for the evening, chocolate smeared against the other man's lips as he mindlessly kept practicing his latte 'art'.

Just as he was about to speak up and say something about it, Soap's head jerked up as the two of them heard someone call out. "Shite, I dinna realize how long we've been back here." He muttered, pushing himself away from the table as Simon called out, "Just a sec!"

Wiping his hands on the washcloth he had, Soap went for the counter, glad that their manager, Price, wasn't there to witness the fact that there hadn't been anyone manning the front. "Welcome to the 141! Sorry about that."

[not-your-chosen]

@sah1x1s and i are making a tf 141 cafe!epilogue because we fucking want to

---

Let it be known, Sadiha was a bit overdressed for a simple coffee run. Diaphanous fabric in goldenrod splendor, silver embroidery, a neutral hijab and another turmeric colored scarf hanging loose on her head, Not her usual style, but it was Eid and she was going to meet her friend here before going to have a dinner with her parents, and generally enjoy the festivities.

The new cafe a couple blocks down from their house was a little dead after the morning rush. Walking up to the counter she looks to either side of the bar, man, it is dead. maybe they're in the back? "Hello?"

[not-your-chosen]

"What the fuck do you want me to say?!"

"Even- Even if i wasn't brainwashed to shit, Do you really think i could've feasibly saved anyone in that situation? I'm a tailor! I'm not like you i cant just overturn mountains!"

“Y-you hurt them! That’s m-my friend– and you– you hurt their feelings! Apologize! You– stop! You need to– to say you’re sorry– r-right now! –now!”

FCG was furious, unable to believe the things his audio receptors were picking up. They normally wouldn’t have been so forward, or angry, with the situation. But they were feeling… well, not so hot…

[not-your-chosen]

@sah1x1s gets a new neighbor for Simon and Johnny!

———

Well.

Freshman year was starting, Oryanna had left Vietnam with basically everything they really needed packed into two suitcases, and got here mostly unscathed. They hadn’t even really seen the apartment they’d be living in for the next few years in person until they were moving in.

And then the mattress in a box thing came in the next day.

Too bad the delivery men put it at the bottom of the walk up. Oryanna was struggling hard, shuffling it around and pushing it upstairs before someone had called out after pushing it up almost half way.

“Oh! I mean it’s almost halfway up.” They smile despite the groaning struggle in their voice. “I uh…” they looked back at the men a landing down from where they just shuffled the heavy box. They looked… well. Massive compared to oryannas 5”2’ and looked probably more than capable of carrying it the rest of the way.

“Yeah I’d appreciate the help.” They conceded

[not-your-chosen]

Her eyes flicked to each member as they spoke, this group was a band of missfits if they had ever seen one. Though she thought most of the adventuring parties around were like that.

"dont-" She could barely get that out before a wave of steady calm washed over her. her breathing stopped hitching, the tears stopped momentarily. "Lets. Not do that again..." That was more suggestion then warning. They had been under Sylas' Charm spell for long to know that any outside spell cast influence on their thoughts or feelings... was a bad lot for her.

"30 years..." she sighs out. "I guess its been that long."

"Saoirse McCallum. I uh, don't remember a lot, it must have been over Fifty years now. I uh used to work for the briarwoods, Tailoring, dressing that sort of thing. One night i was... I dunno summoned up and..." She looks distantly off somewhere, like she could still feel it in her neck, just feel the animalistic bite. "It was an accident. I was supposed to die, but they... Kept me around. Before i had the courage to escape when the hero's were in town."

"Traveled abit. Did my best to keep away, crossed the shearing channel into wildemount. Met Theadosia in Zedash, stayed with her... she had fallen ill, passed a month or two after."

Everyone in the group stood a little straighter. There was a darkness that came over Laudna's face, but it was more of fear, Orym thought, not anger. This could have been her. Turned, not killed.

"I don't think anyone is beyond help," Dorian said, gently, though Orym could hear the abundance of caution in his voice. He stayed behind Orym.

"She's a vampire," Ashton said flatly, in their usual 'Well, if no one is gonna say it, might as well be me' way.

"But you don't want to be," Fearne asked, more of a suggestion than a statement.

"I'm gonna cast a spell, it's just gonna help you feel a little better and we can talk this out." Imogen cast 'Calm Emotions' on Saoirse before her hand snaked into Laudna's who still hadn't spoken on Saoirse's reveal.

"We know about Whitestone. And what happened there... That was a little over 30 years ago..." Orym wouldn't speak for Laudna, but he was curious if Saoirse even realized how long it had been. She looked desperate and hopeless. Orym didn't know if there was a 'cure' for vampirism other than death. But they could try. And if not, they could help end her suffering. It was times like this he missed FCG the most.

"My name's Orym. What's your name? What's your story about what happened?"

[not-your-chosen]

@sah1x1s gets a vampire for the soap because they’re both from Scotland!!!

———

It was… a formative time, being in LA for those eight or so years. Being something beyond normal for about two. Things were muddled back then, when she was first getting her bearings as a vampire. Thea made it better, but that was short lived. The grief of having a lover gone so quick still carried heavy in her body, in the way she walked on the cobbles of her hometown.

Turning right to get under the awning of the pub She used to frequent -if anything to just eat scrummy pub food while everyone about her age and older were drinking.- shaking off her umbrella and shrugging off the hood of the hoodie tucked under her coat. She foolishly didn’t expect the barmaid to be the same lady from her childhood but as soon as she walks in she was under her suspicious glare. “Saoirse?” The bar lady asks as she makes her way to the bar. “Saoirse McCallum!”

Saoirse is near tackled, a pitiful ‘oh’ knocked out of her by the hug. “Good to see ye, lass I’m sure you’re mother would say you’re a sight for sore eyes! She hasn’t heard a word from you in…”

“Eight years.” She answers as she’s ushered to the bar.

“Eight years, fuckin hell… she must think you’re dead by now!”

“Nearly.”

Looking over on her right she looks about the patrons, thankful that the bar was relatively quiet. Only afew patrons here and there, scanning the crowd she stops.

Oh no.

He’s… stunning, she can’t take her eyes away for more than afew minutes. This had happened with Theadosia too. The bastard that gave her this daylight disease seemingly passed down the trait of obsession. Beautiful people, beautiful works of art, architecture, music, even in her own experience, a very pretty Belgian shepherd could flip this switch making it near impossible to step away from a beautiful sight.

Then she recognized him too.

“MacTavish!” She calls, watching him turn. “You’re a right big cunt now, I guess that’s what you get when you join the SAS.”

[not-your-chosen]

Sebastian gave a small smile but that quickly falters when the man sat up quickly. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he keeps the smaller steady. Watching him mumble he looks back to his sister in the door way with the underused aide kit they stored away somewhere for a time like this. Or, well, more frequently splinters and accidental cuts.

"I am Sebastian, this is my Twin, Margaux." Mar wordlessly held up her hand in a hello. "Maybe it would be best if you laid back down, for now at least."

Margaux comes round to the front of the halfling, setting her kit down and sitting next to him on one side. Her slender hands were gentle with him the entire time, disinfecting, applying gauze, wrapping... the utmost care given to the halfling.

"Do you think you can walk inside?" Margaux asked, eyes turning to the morning storm brewing in the small patch of sky they could see. "I can carry you-if you wish." Sebastian adds, sounding less eager and more concerned

"Um... sore." Orym gave a small chuckle. A nervous chuckle. The halfling was in seemingly good spirits, but otherwise...

Well, he was in a place he didn't recognize with a person he didn't recognize... In a very intimate way. He sat up, maybe too quickly, as his head rung like a tuning fork with pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, a hand touching his forehead. Though it was the side of his head that held the healing wound.

"Sorry--" Orym didn't know what he was apologizing for. He had the strangest feeling as if he'd let someone down... Lost something.

"I'm..." He began, but... whatever name he was about to give came and went from his mind as casually as a summer breeze.

"I don't..." Orym took a short breath, trying to control himself. Don't panic. You're safe. He hoped.

"Who are you?"

[not-your-chosen]

@songshieldandselfcare gets a man for orym to kiss eventually

---

To be fair, Sebastian and Margaux's small cottage was the only house out there for miles, kind of stuck in the middle of some wild thicket and overgrown woods. They would see some travelers around every two month but not really in any dire straits or anything. They all had enough, and the twins had enough as well. with a farm and chickens and reformed war-dogs...

Needless to say it was an odd occurrence to find a halfling nearly dead on their doorstep in the morning. Part of him wondered how long he'd been there, but as soon as Margaux brought it do his attention he was quick with a healing spell, his twin sister moving back inside the cottage for a quick moment to grab some more healing items.

"That was a little scare, wasnt it?" Sebastian smiled down on the unknown man that currently was situated with his head in the others lap. "How are you feeling?''

[not-your-chosen]

Saoirse backs up instinctually, near pressing herself against the backwall in avoidance. She was conflicted on why the women both didn't listen to the voices of reason telling them to stay back.

"i am beyond help." she states, moving to wipe at tears in a very slow and telegraphed motion. "Unless there's someone who would like to volunteer to get me out of this blood-frenzy." The chances of that were zero and Saoirse knows.

Looking to the pink haired woman's companion they do a double take, something is familiar, in a mangled and dead way... Not like she can really place it too much... maybe.

"were you in Whitestone... when Sylas and Delilah Briarwood were in power...?"

a light, yet telling question.

rather be dead | orym [bh] + saoirse

[ cont from here with @not-your-chosen 's Saoirse ]

"Okay, hang on..." Imogen stepped infront of Orym, her compassion getting the better of her, but also proving to Orym how much of the leader she really was.

"Don't--" Ashton warned, but Imogen was already walking closer, her hands held up as well giving the impression she was no threat to this girl. Orym heard Aston growl in frustration. He could feel Dorian and Chet's anxiousness over the situation.

"I think you better stay there, Imogen." Chetney spoke seriously and Imogen paused. He knew something the others didn't. He could smell it on the girl. It was similar to Laudna's scent. But... not quite.

"We won't hurt you," Laudna moved next to Imogen and Orym was reluctant to put Seedling away. He merely lowered it and kept a cautious eye on the woman. She had hissed at him.

He knew they were all thinking the same thing: this could be a trap. Despite the tears and the confession.

Imogen took a brief peak into Saoirse's mind, just to be clear on if her tears were genuine or not. What she saw, even in that brief moment made her jaw drop slightly. But she smiled, however chilled she felt, "We're Bell's Hells. We can try and help."

[not-your-chosen]

Cole tilted his head to the side, the wide brim of his hat moving with and showing more of the straw blond hair that hid his eyes. He, of course, could still see him clearly, see the pained smile on his face and the tears falling.

Cole turns away for a moment, Turning back with an intricately embroidered handkerchief, the initials on it not Cole's , not anywhere close to a 'C'. He offers it to orym with both hands, like giving a present.

"I hope you are real too!" he smiles crookedly. "I hope you find yourself real as well." He states quietly, his hands drifting back to his lap aswell as his gaze, as if the grass was extremely interesting to him -it kindof is-

"Sometimes the birdsong is sad too, like widows once wed, but what is sadness but love in mourning? You have worn the daisy chain before?" Cole knew he needed to be gentle around orym, his wounds both one thing, the other really being the fact that normal people, humans, halflings... well, maybe anybody, didn't like his.. intuition. He hummed, stopping the words spilling to him now that hes so near orym.

broken [cornerstone] | orym + cole

[ cont from here with @not-your-chosen 's Cole ]

Orym looked up at the word 'Will'. The emphasis put on it. Maybe this wasn't 'real'. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe Cole was some new manifestation. The fact that he was dying maybe or missing Will.

But if he were, though he suspected he would want to be somewhere as beautiful as this forest, he knew he would be seeing his dead husband. And while Cole was handsome, he wasn't exactly Will's twin.

"I hope you're real. You've been kind to me." Orym took a breath, "You're nice, I want you to be real. I just... I don't know anymore." He leaned back, letting his hands fall flatly against the grass. In their short journey he did this quite a bit. Touching the grass or dirt when they rested, playing with leaves he would pluck from a tree every few feet.

He couldn't help but smile at the flower crown being placed on his head. But it did bring more tears. He couldn't help those either. He remembered him and Will sitting and weaving stems of flowers together, making each other a crown.

Maybe Orym should just embrace it. Reality or not, it was better than the starvation and torture and being force fed healing potions and hardly anything else just to be hurt again. Cole seemed to rarely eat, or at least Orym never saw it, instead Cole provided him with food. There was a town nearby, but Orym didn't think he was ready to venture into it just yet.

[not-your-chosen]

Cole had found him out in the forest one day, his apron full of tiny vermin -still alive- before nearly tripping over the man. They had been inseparable really ever since. And not because Cole was being a pest. ok maybe ... but he wanted so desperately to be of help.

Even if that meant putting extra honey in the mans milk before bed!

"Still real..." Cole mutters, his hands making a small daisy chain as the lanky ghost sat next to Orym.

"Sorries are meant for wrongs, you needn't worry." He humms, before starting up again. "real or not, real or not, what only is real but the will for it to be?"

"Is the birdsong real? or the swaying of the trees? am i? perhaps not. dependent definition..." He slowly raises his hands to place the floral crown upon oryms head, as if he didnt just admit to maybe not being a human.

broken cornerstone | bell's hells rp | orym open thread

Orym didn't speak much after they had found him. He'd been gone for weeks. The Ruby Vanguard getting the drop on the party. He knew he'd fallen in battle. How badly the whole thing had gone, he couldn't even remember. But at least some of the Vanguard had gotten away.

With him.

At first he thought maybe everyone had been taken, captured, questioned. But they had quickly let him know that hadn't been the case. That his friends had left him to die. He knew that couldn't be true.

But they had kept and tortured and manipulated Orym for nearly a month. He had started to question things, not realizing that had been their plan all along. They tortured him without asking questions sometimes, threatened people he loved, then assured him they would come to no harm. He never saw who any of them were. Magical darkness or blindness prevented him from seeing most of anything. They used illusory magic to make him hear thing. People.

His body was healed well enough. His sword arm was slower than it had been, but with practice that could heal in time.

"I don't know what they wanted from me... just to let me go..." Orym couldn't give the group much in the way of anything. He hadn't seen anything. He only heard what they wanted him to.

"I don't know... if this is real or not. Right here." His hands shook, lifting his better one to wipe tears from his face. "I'm sorry."

[not-your-chosen]

"Oh, yes. Very terrible creatures." She nods, reading the script on the cover of the book, before turning back to the book they were looking at, genuinely trying to not broach the subject with vesper any more than what she would ask of her.

Opening the spine of a creaky book, her eyes flicked back to the girl.

"What?" She asked. "Do you want me to buy the book for you?"

“Oh no… no, no, it’s nothing, don’t worry…” Vesper put on a smile. Emotions were complicated. Flashes of emotion over something she otherwise felt little connection to. It must have meant something to her. On some subconscious level. She picked up the book on vampires from the shop’s shelf.

“Terrible creatures,” She gave an unsteady chuckle, showing her companion the book. Perhaps some explanation for the sudden sway of dread she had felt spotting it.

[not-your-chosen]

Saoirse backed up, her head swimming nearly making it back to the surface, though that was before she let out this low hiss, baring sharpened teeth.

she was frenzied, her last.. lover had succumbed to an illness and she hadnt had any blood for months as she mourned. there was risks do this though, she knew that the bloodlust would take over at some point but maybe there was a hope that it wouldn't get this complicated.

"If you strike me down make it quick." Saoirse sobs, holding her hands in surrender. "i would rather be dead then be this monster."

“Don’t worry…” Orym moved in front of the other, his back to them. Guarding them. He lifted his shield, his sword firmly in hand, tight muscles tense, ready to spring into action at any given second. Whatever this thing, or person was… He certainly didn’t trust it.

“I’m right here…”