#lemme know if you'd like anything changed

[magiccuco]

Yestereve Starter ٠ ࣪⭑ @hypnoticallycaucasian

٠ ࣪⭑ It was certainly a loud one out there. The campus had come alive with all sorts of activities for the fall season. Most of the time, Cucumber would've been happy to participate. But... he was feeling a lot more anxious than usual.

The sounds were overwhelming him as he simply tried to get to the archives in order to read. Everyone everywhere was talking about food and memories... and it made him homesick more than anything else. He was on a mission to do research, so that's what he would do!

The little guy sat in the Arcanus Archives with a stack of books to hide behind, hoping that he could simply pass the time away and not get too involved.

[seaoftales]

Finding a tavern as quest as this one was a rarity. A few patrons sitting around at tables or by the bar, conversations being held in murmurs, no pirates about to be way too loud for his tastes. The swordsman preferred a more peaceful ambiance than a loud one, so he settled at one of the tables closer to the bar, ordering some food and a bottle of red wine. He'd been famished after his last voyage during which he'd run out of food, foolishly miscalculating the supplies needed.

It was rare for Mihawk to spend more time than needed around people, and food was an exception. One might think that the man lives off of sarcasm and red wine, and while that wasn't too far off from the truth, the man still had to eat.

His more or less quiet mealtime was interrupted when the door burst open, a large group of undoubtedly pirates entering the tavern. He initially didn't pay too much mind to them, rather observing and trying to figure out who was who, and who was in charge.

It wasn't until they started getting louder, singing and laughing, that Mihawk finally glanced in the general direction of the young woman who was clearly their captain.

"My, aren't you a lively bunch."

@marriageproposallola ♥'d

[rhysdasior]

closed starter for @adrasian

Although Rhys’ faith remained a point of constant contention between himself and Roland, the tireless bickering in place of pillow talk did little to sway Rhys’ devotion to the divine. With a needed visit to confession having filled last Sunday’s morning, Rhys had been frequenting the town’s church on his first break of each working day, hunched forward with eyes shut tight as the rosary clutched between his fingers was desperately worked at, prayers falling from him on autopilot, pleading for forgiveness from the usual lapses in good behaviour before delving into the real calls for retribution; from slipping back into old patterns in behaviour after indulging above and beyond excess whilst with Byron back in Mayfair, in the intentional cruelty in how he’d addressed and treated Roland prior to his departure, how his guilt surrounding his own bout of adultery had interwoven itself with the shock of having witnessed Gwyn and Roland’s tryst without even a semblance of warning from Roland beforehand and resulted in yet another argument between them not even forty-eight hours into being back at Krovs. The guilt and shame were ever-present, louder in times of crisis, regret and pleasure – always serving as perpetual reminders that feeling too excessively was always a doomed venture. 

Keeping everything neatly compartmentalised and repressed allowed for Rhys to actually live his life, getting through each day step by step in one piece even if it was mainly performed on autopilot, the many years spent as a socialite-in-training as his parents’ shadow at countless soirées and coven meetings preparing him with an endlessly useful script to make the entire performance of diligent workaholic a believable one. The responsibilities weighing on his shoulders now – both as Head of the department and High Priest of the Dasior coven back home in London – were beginning to grow heavy sooner than expected and though Rhys had told himself he’d be able to manage it all just fine, he could feel his resolve cracking beneath the glamour.

Straightening up in the pew, Rhys slumped back against the uncomfortable rigid oak and groaned in time with the creaking of the aged wood, lifting a hand to rub as his eyes as he cycled through his usual array of breathing exercises to drag himself out of the mire of misery he’d willingly stumbled into. An unspoken agreement between Rhys and the small selection of priests dwelling there had come into being stating that he was to be left alone whilst visiting in the evenings and even with his mind and emotions in disarray, Rhys wasn’t distracted enough not to notice the shift in the atmosphere alerting him to the presence of another. A little deeper focus soothed any concern that he was in the company of anything possessing malicious intent (as expected given the setting, he reasoned,) and after a pause, Rhys turned to face whatever had decided to dwell in the presence of the sacred and offered a weary wave to dispel any concerns present in return. “You don’t need to hang back. You’re not intruding.”

[moenxs]

@hoshizorax for sukuna~

It wasn't every day she ran into someone quite like Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, she had been actively told to avoid even being in the vicinity of the man. Yet unfortunately for them, and potentially for herself, Kairos tended to let her curiosity get the better of her, which led her to find herself perched delicately atop a thick tree branch hanging just over the man's abode.

Her legs swung absentmindedly while Kairos waited for Sukuna to make an appearance, as she knew it was around the time he would due to the fact she had been just...a little aware of his general schedule.

Though he seemed to be a little late today.

"Get caught up with something?" Her voice was perhaps too nonchalant considering who she was speaking to, though her mismatched eyes peered down through the clumps of leaves with an almost glowing whimsy.

[gctchell]

the ties that bind. [ starter call ] // @helluvaflames ; stolas

”Where is it.. Damn you, where is it?“ Stella cursed beneath her breath, fingers dancing along the bookshelves in the solarium with a furrowed brow. Frost misted off of her form and billowed in mushroom clouds upon the floor, dragging the temperature down as ice crackled and crawled along the panes of glass encasing the room.

It wasn't here, she must have peeled her eyes over the every cover at least seven times in the past ten, hyper-focused minutes.

Bless. Bless. Triple bless.

Flakes of snow trailed from Stella's shoulders as she took her sweeping leave, practically flying her way down the cavernous halls to where her husband's office resided - just opposite her own. If it was not in the Solarium, he would surely know exactly where it is.

”Stolas,“ Stella piped, appearing suddenly like a white apparition after her fingers brushed through the air, bidding the door to open at her behest. ”where is the family album? It's not in the solarium.“

[failbhe]

closed starter for @masterxtiernan

It’d been some time since Cían had been in the company of Tiernan Hollaran. When he’d been selected as Ireland’s councilman following the switch over, Cían had been present in Dublin’s castle serving on the reserves for the guards, in between jobs as hired muscle and too curious to pass up the opportunity to check out the fresh meat swanning around the place as it's supposed rightful heir in some form or another. Cían had appraised him from above in the balconies amongst the gaggle of equally curious staff and formed his judgements but had made no attempt to introduce himself, instead making himself scarce as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He’d recognised Tiernan’s scent before he’d laid eyes upon him and though he’d spent the vast majority of his wartime years in a feral state with little clear recollection of events, he remembered Tiernan a little too well. 

He’d made numerous attempts on the ghoul’s life on the battlefield, each one rebuffed and resulting in Kaden’s aid to pull him back around after getting himself out just before things got perilous. The game of cat and mouse hadn’t been intentional; Cían had wanted him dead at first. Over time, however, when it was clear victory was straying further and further from the fae side’s grasp, Cían had just been glad to have something to pass the time until the inevitability of his capture finally came. Whether Tiernan had been involved in it, Cían couldn’t recall. It wasn’t like it mattered, it wasn’t as if it changed anything. It was a sentence worse than death regardless of which scumbag was calling the shots.

He hadn’t expected to cross paths with Tiernan so soon after settling into the village but considering that his employer was a colleague of Halloran’s, he really should’ve braced himself for the reunion he’d half-dreaded, half-eagerly anticipated for far longer than he should’ve following the end of the war. Having been dragged into Euphoria to help the bar staff with a last minute stock count before doors opened for the night, Cían’s attention was immediately drawn to the club’s doors being opened as one of many of the night’s arrogant bastards thought they could wander on in whenever they felt like it regardless of what the signage read outside. “Oi,” Cían barked, dumping his armful of boxed straws onto the bar and turning to wander over to block the path of the intruder, Tiernan’s unmistakable scent hitting him a moment too late to halt the interrogation now that it was in motion. “Doors aren’t open to the masses, VIPs included, for another twenty minutes, councilman. De Luca didn’t say a word ‘bout expecting you early, either. Gotta ask you to turn it around and bless us with your dazzling company just a little later in the evening. It's club policy.”

[bastardfae]

closed starter for @familiar-finn

it was only a matter of time before tiernan was able to successfully stake his claim over the halfling. such a fact weighed heavy on arnon’s mind with each day that passed whilst stuck in this place. trying to keep track of the hours that passed was nothing short of impossible; each one blurred into the next. the only indicator that time was passing came through the dawn of the day and the falling of dusk. everything between that was a gaping chasm of endless misery, to put it lightly. even with tiernan’s explanation of being permanently rented until the claim could be made officially, arnon was grateful for the occasional reprieve of the councilman’s constant company as he was escorted down to the undercroft. the pit of despair wasn’t a great replacement; he’d much rather step foot inside his home again if only to be greeted with the sight of truly familiar surroundings again for the briefest of moments. it’d bring him more comfort than was imaginable, but such a hope was pointless, so it wasn’t worth dwelling on. shrugging off the bitterness that such a thought process always carried with it, arnon raked a hand through his hair and wandered to the first common room as if he owned the place, picking a book at random from the shelves and frisbeeing it onto the nearest table. if he was going to be stuck down here, he might as well distract himself somehow. pulling out the chair to slump into it with an exasperated huff, arnon flicked through the pages without really taking anything in, far too distracted by the sense of a presence lingering in the doorway behind him. “if you want something, speak up,” he grumbled, not bothering to look at whoever decided it was socially acceptable to hover. “if not, keep it moving.”

[nahimarchive]

closed starter for @witchysethharper

in order to truly understand rhys’ appeal to roland, nahim had chosen to start off gently, scheduling biweekly appointments under the guise of utilising the head magic consultant’s skills in divination to offer a little preternatural advice. the sessions weren’t taxing for either party, more of an excuse to fall into easy conservation and lull the witch into a semi-genuine sense of security. over time, rhys would grow comfortable enough not to notice when the narrative spotlight would inevitably shift to him and nahim could pry at what really made the witch tick. for now, he treated roland’s object of affection with the utmost respect, only drinking from him if offered to do so. whilst rhys hadn’t offered the first time around, he’d become surprisingly comfortable doing so every in every session that followed and nahim saw no good reason to turn any opportunity down. 

with a minute to spare until their scheduled meeting for the week, nahim made his way to rhys’ office, slowing in his tracks as he watched a face he was yet to familiarise himself with leave rhys’ office. by the looks of him, the stranger could easily be the other magic consultant; rhys had fondly mentioned… seth, was it? wandering closer, nahim flashed a cordial smile in the other’s direction as he passed, strengthening his mental shield out of habit around all magic users; out of all the lessons bastjan had taught him, keeping all thoughts concealed was paramount to guaranteed protection and, more dramatically, survival. “what kind of mood is he in?” nahim ensured his tone was jovial as he spoke, nodding towards rhys’ office to accentuate his questioning. “something along the lines of pleasant, i hope?”

[nahim]

closed starter for @nicotine-noah

nahim tugged his headphones off as the knock to the doors of his suite interrupted the livestream of valletta’s daily parliament meeting just as the representative for the standing committee on consideration of bills was due to speak and with a huff, he vaulted himself over the back of the couch and utilised his speed to reach the doors in a heartbeat, tugging them open curiously as he ran a hand through his hair. he’d been about to enquire what was so important that the need to be interrupted had apparently arisen but was silenced by the sight of the slave and the guard delivering him that he’d requested a few hours ago in an impulsive moment of boredom and a need for stimulation that didn’t require having to drag himself down to the undercroft. 

flashing a bright grin as realisation settled, nahim stepped back and gestured for noah to enter. “grazzi for bringing him all this way,” he said, barely sparing a glance in the guard's direction as he studied the cambion’s movements as he passed by with a hum of approval. offering a chipper wave goodbye as an afterthought to the guard as he shut the doors behind him, nahim leaned against them as he dragged his gaze over noah again, his eyes bright with vaguely mischievous intent as they met noah’s. “hello,” he kept his tone sweet as a smile punctuated the greeting. there was no need to unsettle him too much just yet. “yours was a name i didn’t recognise from previous visits. how long have you been collared down there for now?”

[advertisesouls]

❛ man, i’m just tired and bored with myself. ❜

assorted lyrics // accepting!!

One couldn't blame Xifeng for thinking that Angel Dust initially was speaking to someone else in the hotel. The two of them weren't necessarily close—or at all—especially since she had a reputation to uphold as one of Hell's coldest demons around as far as her personality was considered. That, and she tended to always keep others at arms' length.

That being said, however, she couldn't pass up an opportunity to try and act as genial as possible towards the guests in the hotel so as to learn more about them (and relay that information to Alastor.) After all, aside from being the hotel's advertising executive, what else is there to do besides interact with its patrons?

"Ah, sorry, I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying. What's got you so down, Angel Dust? Is it anything that I can help with?"

[ianrossi]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @augustusellison 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: ray's

THE BAR WAS SLAMMED, more so than Ian could remember it being since he’d moved back. Ray’s had always been the place for the locals to unwind, and he could remember his father taking him there on his twenty-first birthday, clapping a hand on his back as he asked, “Doesn’t it taste better now that it’s legal?” A needless reminder of how he'd spent his teenage years, given that his prescription for painkillers following his third operation had only just run out. His “first” beer, his first game of pool many years before, the night of his first breakup — disguised with Noel at his side as they uncomfortably ordered root beers until they could work up the courage to order ale.

The bar had seen many firsts, and that night it saw the man become an unofficial bartender. After fifteen minutes of patiently waiting, Ian took it upon himself to retrieve a beer from the bucket just on the other side of the bar, leaving a $10 bill in its place. As he turned, he could feel someone watching and, for good measure swiped another bottle. ❛ Think they’ll mind? ❜ he asked, sliding the drink over to the other man. ❛ I haven’t seen the place like this in ages. ❜

[seaoftales]

As rare as his trips to more populated areas were, whenever he made an effort to stay around, it proved to be rather interesting, not to mention that Lady Luck always seemed to have a wildcard in the deck to draw. Would he encounter a drunken brawl in a bar or outside of it, would another idiot throw his life away and die by his blade just to prove to his friends he could take on the World's Greatest Swordsman, or perhaps he'd happen upon a person that would pique his interest enough to strike a conversation with them? Mihawk really never knew what to expect.

After getting some provisions for his trip back home, the swordsman stopped at one of the nicer looking bars. A red wine enthusiast through and through, he simply couldn't pass the opportunity to see whether the bar offered some. He might like it and go out to buy a bottle or two, maybe even a crate to take with him.

It wasn't until he heard an angelic, almost otherworldly voice singing that instantly caught his attention. His attention was immediately shifted from the glass of wine to the young woman, completely mesmerized. It was something he admittedly never felt before. His attention could be caught in many ways, though singing was certainly a new one.

He listened until she stopped, and yet he still couldn't peel his eyes from her. ❝ I've never heard a voice quite like yours. ❞

@intothewildsea ♥'d

[rhysdasior]

closed starter for @aneirin-ap-mouric

Whilst Seth had done a phenomenal job of managing the workload of the entire department throughout Rhys’ absence (not that the witch had expected any less), there were still a few loose ends that needed tying up and considered finalised for good. It had taken Rhys a day or two to submerge himself back into the general hustle and bustle of castle life but once the familiarity had returned in full force, it felt as if he’d never left at all. Well, certainly on the departmental side of things. Matters of the heart and all the complications that came with it remained an apparently persistent issue. Sending off the last flurry of emails for the morning to confirm upcoming consultations and formally check in with coven-related matters back home, Rhys pushed himself up out of his chair with a long sigh, warily eyeing the clock above the doorway as he tried to discern how much of his break tying one particular loose thread up would take. Whatever excuses his mind was eager to make up to avoid addressing any of it, the fact of the matter remained: he couldn’t put it off forever and his conscience had been nagging him relentlessly to extend an olive branch of some kind to fledgling number one if it made Roland’s life even slightly easier.

Shrugging off the last of his reservations, Rhys plucked his blazer from the back of his chair and tugged it on as he headed out of the office, waving a hand behind him to lock and enchant the door to prevent another spontaneous arrival from Gwyn in his absence. Though he’d foolishly hoped it would, it didn’t take long to reach Aneirin’s suite and Rhys took a breath to steady himself before knocking. “Councilman? Apologies for the interruption – do you have five minutes to spare? There’s something we need to discuss.”

[rhysdasiorarchive]

closed starter for @witchysethharper.

Given everything that had occurred over the past few days, the last place Rhys wished to be was anywhere containing other people. He’d been comfortable enough locked away in the safety of his office, avoiding any and all socialisation unless workplace requirements demanded it. For a while, it had been easy enough to distract himself with the last few pages of paperwork that needed tending to – followed by a brief flick through the pile of books on his bedside table he’d been meaning to read for months but had found himself too distracted by Roland’s near-constant presence to properly devote any time to – before the guilt and concern grew too large to ignore. He’d been lazy in patching things up with Seth after the events at Cannabites, too proud to be the first one to admit concession and too distracted by Roland’s incredibly sudden and jarring departure from his daily life seemingly overnight. It seemed as if that evening had brought with it a whole host of complications that Rhys really should have envisioned a whole lot sooner. Then again, perhaps this is what he got for neglecting his divination and intuition in favour of pursuing and maintaining emotional connections. 

With the festivities in full swing downtown, Rhys knew exactly where he’d find the younger witch and despite his reservations, he pushed his pride aside to make the first step towards putting at least one thing right. Even if he was still unimpressed with how Shade and Seth had handled their side of things, Seth was still someone Rhys considered close enough to practically be family at this point and it seemed childish to throw away that kind of bond when it ran as deep as it did, not to mention the fact that they still had to work together – there was no point in making the workplace environment any more insufferable than it already was on a regular day simply due to working where they did. For a split second, the thought of handing in his notice with immediate effect and returning to London to spend the rest of his days in quiet misery seemed far more appealing than being the bigger person, but if he didn’t fix this now, he likely never would and Seth deserved an attempt at repairing their relationship at the very least. Rhys made no attempt to get in the spirit of things – participating in anything Halloween-related had never once appealed to him, not even as a child – simply choosing to head downtown in his usual finery, following the chord of the younger witch’s inherent magic that always allowed him to keep a vague idea of Seth’s whereabouts even from afar. The club he arrived at was Rhys’ worst nightmare in multiple ways, not just because of its owner and the witch’s soured feelings towards him, but also due to the impact of the jarring sensory overload and the very real threat of Roland’s presence also featuring. If he could get this over and done within a handful of minutes, Rhys would consider it a job well done and he could retire back to the comfort of entirely self-imposed isolation. 

Pushing through the crowd with just a little excessive force that was partially a byproduct of his rising discomfort at having to be in such an environment in the first place, it didn’t take long for Rhys to spot his fellow magic consultant and he raised his voice just enough to be heard over the music. “Seth– look, I’m not here to argue. I just– I need to talk to you. Outside. Five minutes, no more. Don’t wanna keep you from…” he gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “…this.”

[souldered]

“ y'know , @arachnidiots — “ practiced smile grows , softens up the countenance. the warmth of the sun is a welcome feeling after a long winter season , especially around the cityscape. “ i didn't know that ... that's pretty cool , actually. “

＋﹒⟢﹒jane's one-liner , for peter !

[sansloii]

“I wouldn't do that if I were ya.” the redhead warns, nodding their head towards the cautious stray that's extended its nose towards the stranger's hand. “If ya don't got food in the other hand t'fork over, he's gonna scratch ya real good.”

— And, as proof, Mikah lifts their hand to show the small, but very red* scratch marks that decorated their hand. They hold it up for a moment, maybe two, before their attention goes back to the empty metal bowls they were crouched in front of. They slide their pack around to their front to pull out their water bottle.

“He chills out after he's eaten, though.”

mini-starter call | @daemonry