#moved to a new thread for tracking

[cassiehayesx]

@institute-domruthingham​

Dom growled loudly as he tugged at the restraints and tried his best to shimmy the blindfold off his face “This is fucking bullshit.” he hissed more to himself as he continued to tug, his wrists were probably going to be bruised with how much he was tugging. “If the headmaster wants to fucking punish me, he can at least let me fucking fight back!” he shouted “He’s fucking hiding behind all these stupid masters! FACE ME COWARD!” he shouted louder, his voice cracking slightly from the strain, not caring who heard him.

She probably should have gone home after visiting her father. The farther away from the trouble she was, the less likely she was to cause more of it, but--God, that was a lot of yelling.

A family-sized bag of potato chips in one hand and her vape in the other, the smell of marijuana clinging to her like a second skin, Cassie stopped in front of the skinny human, considered him for a moment--and then tugged his blindfold down and prodded into his mouth as a gag, instead. The strip of fabric was loose; it would be easy enough for him to spit out, but at least it would achieve a moment of quiet. 

“Bloody noisy, ain’tch’ya?” she said, regarding him with an eyebrow raised. A cry of pain in the distance made her wince, and she took another hit from her vape, held it for a moment to steady herself, and then turned her head to blow it away before continuing: “Reckon I’d be yelling myself hoarse, too, but I think you’re biting off more than you can chew there, big shot. Big man at the top might be afraid of somebody right now, but uh--and listen, mate, I don’t mean to be rude--you look like somebody pinochio’d a little pipe cleaner man, and you smell human as shit, man, and he’s got a man who can turn into a grizzly in chains, hm? So whoever it is he’s afraid of, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it’s not you.” She gave his scrawny chest a poke with one finger at that, before adding, “Sorry. You want some potato chips?”

[jigsawfcrged]

@sheldoney continued from [x]

"Are you sure I couldn't offer you a hot beverage?" Sheldon questioned the woman. He was being courteous. "It might aid in sleep and working overnights messes with REM sleep. I should know I have spent many of nights staying awake solving String Theory."

Her impulse was to tell him no -- Dee had long since made a habit out of trying to not put other people out in any way on her behalf, and she was pretty sure he was just making the offer to be polite, but she found herself hesitating. She wouldn't deny that a hot cup of tea sounded great, and she wasn't in a huge rush to go back to her apartment with however many of her three roommates were there right now. "I -- yeah, actually, that would be really nice, Sheldon. Tea would be great, if it's not too much trouble."

[owen-jackson]

Margeaux wasn’t a huge fan of these things. But she needed to get out. And what better way to make connections with either those she already knew or those she had yet to get to know, than to go to the events that the school held? So here she was, mingling and enjoying herself. She had to admit, she was feeling pretty good in her little green sundress with the little white flowers on it. She smiled a bit to herself as she meandered through the crowd, enjoying the appetizers as they came.

She was a bit lost in thought, when someone nearly runs into her. Her first reaction was to try and catch the tray for him, but he had it under control. She chuckled a little bit, tucking her hair back behind her ears. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay!” she assured him with a wide grin. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

She bit her lip a little bit and sighed. “It’s fine. Nothing bad happened. Those ladies keep eyeing you, though,” she said. “What would you say to helping me with a drink and we can pretend we’re having a deep conversation. That way they leave you alone and we save ourselves the embarrassment of what just happened.”

--

Jackson looked down at the front of himself, surprised he hadn’t managed to make a mess of the skimpy costume he’d been given. “Oh yeah, all good--” His eyes looked up when the women mentioned the mistresses and Jackson’s head shook a little. “I mean, can you blame them?” Jackson preened for a moment, as though he could look anything but ridiculous in the outfit. 

“But I won’t argue with you there, and I’ll never complain about helping a lady get a drink.” Jackson let an easy smile fall onto his lips he raised a hand to gesture her to go first. “I hope helping you with a drink means helping myself to one too,” He said with a cheeky grin as he started getting her a drink. “Because the guard back there cut me off and frankly, I’m not sure how anyone can handle these sorts of stuffy events without alcohol.” 

@margeauxxadkins​

[fairiewines]

୧੭ continued from here // @superscd

"i was rather hoping you'd tire yourself out with all that ... crying and shouting", idly he waved a hand, the one not cradling another rather ugly figurine — where did his staff get them from? gods. cupping it in his scarred palm mikale studied the woman, the red rimmed hues and tense posture. "this goes beyond disappointment, ysara darling and i think you are smart enough to recognise that. i do not take agreements lightly, i do not make empty promises unlike your father." rolling his eyes the king laughed, dropping the ornament without care on to the vanity. "i do not know what your family has been telling you, but i do not kill unless needed, you are worth more alive than dead." although if she continued pestering him mikale might move her down to the dungeon just for some peace and quiet. "do you truly miss them that badly? your father is the coldest bastard i have ever met."

[vievieveda]

busy | francesco & veda

@philoflore:

Well, perhaps tonight was not going to be suited for relaxing with a nice cup of tea. At least, this was what he figured. The patrons weren't much like the sort you found on the patios of his hometown, although he generally found that you shouldn't judge a person by their language, or their clothes, or the state of their hygiene, though he did pray that what he was seeing on the sole of these boots was mud. It didn't smell much like it did in his garden, and he kept his finger against his nostrils as he waited for the woman he thought to be the owner to return. She seemed to have it all under control, which he found quite remarkable, given the rough manners of her clientele.

"That look is nothing less but my way of expressing awe, Madam. Miss. Tavern keeper." He wrinkled his nose. He figured that the place was always in such a state, no matter the day. "Oh. Hum. I ... Well..." The look he gave her then was apologetic. He was just about to ask her something more complicated than that. "I suppose I can survive without tea. Perhaps do you store Chartreuse." It came from the bottle, and it also was just a cocktail of plants carefully selected. Closest and furthest thing to tea he could think of.

.

"Veda. Vee if you're feeling some sort of way," she introduced when he tried to assign her a title. The human was no madam or miss, at least not in her mind. Having spent the majority of her formative years in the tavern had erased any manners or courtesy she might have formed elsewhere. Veda's language and general attitude was the same as the rowdy patrons that helped earn her keep. And she wouldn't have it any other way. "But the awe is appreciated all the same. That being said, feel free to remain awestruck even as I reluctantly tell you I have no Chartreuse and offer you some Madeira instead?" Vee graced the man with her most charming smile, resting her chin in her hand and elbow on the bartop. The options were limited by the tastes of her usual clientele. She only carried Madeira for the few regulars that preferred wine. "I've been told the ale doesn't taste like horsepiss tonight, as well."

[neonvvaves]

from  here .    /     @sunbecms

kaz  loves  working  on  productions,  and  loves  his  theater tech team  even  more.  so,  it's  jarring  to  witness  time  and  time  again  how  actors  can  be  at  each  other's  throats.  but  kaz  gets  it─    everyone's  hungry  going  after  what  they  love.  "damn,  dude."  kaz  shakes  his  head.  "i'm  sorry  they're  not  more  supportive.  but  hey-"  he  lightly  nudges  cairo  with  an  elbow,  "-you  got  me.  and  my  team  loves  you.  and  you're  gonna  wow  the  fuck  outta  the  audience  when  you're  on  that  stage."  at  being  called  a  mess,  kaz  laughs.  "aw, thanks,"  he  says,  taking  it  as  a  compliment.  "figured  i'd  go  for  something  a  lil'  new."  although  it's  rare  for  kaz  to  not  look  like  he  somersaulted  out  of  the local  arts  and  crafts  store.  "other than your castmates being no chill, everything else with rehearsal going okay?"

[kanaloasteele]

Kanaloa and Maeve - First Meeting

Where: Outskirts of the town

When: Morning/midday

The morning air was refreshingly cold as it beat against Maeve's flushed, freckled cheeks. It beat down on her naturally warmer body and instead of tiring her, it vitalised her.

Leaves in the trees atop the cliff twitched and strained against the vicious breeze, threads of golden hair joining them in their desperate rebellion, as Maeve stood up from her crouched position. Muscles and veins in her arms rippled and flexed as the blonde smoothly nocks an arrow, and pulls the bow back, knuckles almost brushing against her cheekbone.

Barefoot, and clad in leather pants, and an ornate leather chest piece that bore the trademark ocean inspired detailing of Maeve's own print. On her hips hung an axe, and on her back she wore a quiver with the same ornate detailing that could be found on her leather chest plate. Some of her waist length golden waves was still secured behind her face with a leather tie, but most of it had fallen free, tangled and wild, framing her face like a golden haze.

The poor creature that Maeve had her sights on was a distant descendent of the Griffin. It sat nestled in an appropriated birds nest, snoring, quite unaware of it's impending end. Time had not been kind to this branch of the species, they were only just slightly larger than Maeve's own hands. They also had almost no self defensive properties besides concealing itself. It's thin, ragged wings in no way resembled the eagles, and the fluffy tail appeared more catlike than lionlike. The sub-species were no match for the fast developing world around them and as such, the dwindling species was very close to becoming just another myth if they were lucky. So few knew of them that it was not common knowledge that the saliva from this animal was potent for potions, and extremely valuable.

"Poof" Maeve exhaled as she stepped nonchalantly off the tree branch, simultaneously releasing the bow. As she fell to the ground, her arrow found it's target and while two bare feet hit the ground, a sad corpse landed hardly a yard away. A cloud of dirt and dust billowed about it's sad frame.

Without delay, the werewolf deftly darted to her catch, quickly sweeping it up into a pouch secured to her hip. At one point in her three hundred years, Maeve had whispered a small prayer for every animal life that she took. Over the years however, her thanks and apologies made less and less sese, specifically because she no longer hunted and killed out of necessity but out of maintaining her lifestyle. Her apologies and thanks seemed insincere and void of any intention. Instead, she simply sighed deeply and began cleaning the retrieved bow. She was still polishing the lethal point when she heard a disturbance behind her.

Never one to leave herself vulnerable, Maeve turned smoothly and casually, to greet or confront, continuing to clean the fresh blood off her arrow with a cloth. At five foot, six inches, the blonde was tall, and her snugly fitted leather attire exposed dense muscles dotted with faint, golden hair, the blonde could present as an intimidating presence. Certainly the weaponry did not help, but Maeve's own hooded expression did nothing at all to make her appear more approachable.

@maevemedeina

One of the things that Kanaloa had come to appreciate since moving to Destarin was the fact that his day started when he wished it to.  In reality what that meant was that he was up just as early as he was on campaign, but he didn't have someone breathing down his neck the second he woke up.

The crisp morning air was a familiar sensation for the berserker as he breathed deeply before settling into his normal stretching routine.  While he might not have superior officers screaming at him to start training, his routine was something that had been built into him for decades now.  It didn't matter how much he had to drink the night prior, he was always up at the crack of dawn to begin his workouts.

Pulling his long dark locks back in a loose leather strip, Kanaloa settled a tight leather vest across his bare torso, the slight tinkling sounds of metal tapping together as he cinched the weighted vest firmly against his body.  A creation of his own design; his vest, bracers and greaves were made of tight leather lined with slim pockets that he filled with bars of steel from his forge.  Each piece was customizable in how much metal he placed in the pouches before he began his run every morning.  With this being a full workout, there was enough metal in all the pieces to easily triple Kanaloa's body weight.

Starting at the docks, the first lap around the city was a nice warm-up but as he entered his subsequent laps he began to pick up the pace until he was running at his top speed around the city.  The docks were the worst to navigate as he had to bob and weave through the crowds so that neither himself nor his weapons caught on anything.

Sweat glistened on the man's body as his feet pounded against the ground, booted footfalls alerting those around him to his presence.  As he was finishing out his final lap his senses screamed a warning and he came to a skidding stop in a clearing, his faze falling on a blonde woman cleaning an arrow after a kill.

The man's hand slipped down to the hilt of the Da Dao broadsword on his hip, his other hand rising to grasp what appeared to be the haft of another weapon strapped to his back.  He could tell from a glance that he towered over the woman by at least a foot, but that didn't mean much when supernatural species came into play.

Taking a few breaths to calm his breathing and the fight response it triggered, Kanaloa straightened up from his fighting crouch and released the grip he had on his sword, angling it behind him instead.  “Apologies.  I didn't expect anyone else out here so early.  Don't generally run into folks out here when I run.”  Though he seemed relaxed, the berserker was never far from a violent response if necessary.  Too many mistakes could happen if you let your guard fully down.

[myriadxofxmuses]

@fxntasmagoria from X

"Free to live," he whispered, his grin widening sickeningly as his eyes pierced hers.

a thumb grazed itself along her arm, caressing her beautiful, desturctive, permanent scars. eyes momentarily shut as he took in the intoxiating sensation of the raised skin that marked her otherwise smooth skin. her looks may have attracted the rest of the world, but he cherished damage. and her self harm was more alluring than any beauty her face could possess.

his dead gaze opened to find hers once more with her million dollar question. What did she have to do? the true answer would have surprised even his most seasoned psychologist - harls especially all things considered. and the answer was nothing. she didn't have to do anything. ignore all the rules. all the possible punishment. all the fear. the remorse. she just had to be, disregarding all societal contraints.

but where was the fun in that?

his touch slipped from her skin as he stood. his steps echoed softely as he made his way to behind her. his hands ran themselves down her arms as he inhaled deeply, his mind running through all the posible entertainment she could give him. a shuddering breath escaped him as his hands came to rest, his grip gentle yet firm as he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"You have to die for me. Zoe Rivas can no longer exist," he challeneged, exhaling a soft and trembling breath against her neck.

[rexcorlapis-moved]

 The  Luhua  Pools  was  simply  an  excuse,  but  Zhongli  still  wanted  to  sit  by  the  waters  with  Dan  Heng  nonetheless.  His  never-ending  vocation  as  an  Archon  makes  his  days  drag  on,  and  he  was  in  sore  need  of  familiar  company  with  whom  he  could  unwind.  Dan  Heng's  gentle  and  curious  nature  makes  Zhongli  smile  slightly  as  he  leads  him  away  and  into  the  mountains.

❛      The  walk  is  quite  far,  but  if  we  take  to  the   s  k  i  e  s  ,  it  will  only  be  but  a  few  minutes.  The  feature  is  clear  to  see  from  the  Wangshu  Inn,  but  I  had  thought  you  would  enjoy  basking  in  the  waters  yourself.  Should  we  hunger,  there  are  LOTUS  SEEDS  from  which  we  could  eat,  and  should  you  hunger  still,  I  will  find  you  boar  or  fish  or  fowl  to  dine  on.     ❜

@reversescale // continued.

[starlightintheirwake]

continued from here ( x )

"Fine," Armand means to remark plainly, but his curt tone indicates otherwise. He supposes it doesn't matter. He's skimming Lestat's thoughts as it is, and making no attempt to shield his own.

Armand stares at him. He watches Lestat glance about, and he neither speaks nor moves. He was 'fine'. Precisely until this conversation, but he refuses to allow Lestat de Lioncourt a rise from him. Yet in his throat where all his desire and contempt lives, Armand feels it all the same.

If this encounter were to turn hostile, it would have by now, but it doesn't mean Armand wishes to exchange pleasantries. Still, he does not ask Lestat to leave.

Patiently he waits for Lestat to look his way, wide eyes unblinking. He meets him with the Mind Gift.

You have my electronic mail address.

@monsieur-lemort

[cassiehayesx]

@fire-starterdylan​:

Dylan was never one that wanted to be center of attention… unless it warranted.  But those times were few and far between, especially lately.  On the island, he learned quickly after seeing a few people get their asses handed to them for curfew or for looking at someone funny and Dylan didn’t want to add any bad memories added to the stockpile already taking up room in his subconscious.  But he couldn’t help himself, when he was out one evening at a local bar, drinking alone after a long day of studying.  He was people watching, sights landing on someone obviously trying to score a few seats down from him.  And from what he could tell, it was going poorly.  Dylan gave it a few minutes of them having their privacy, ordering himself another drink, before looking back over and seeing the remaining person standing alone.  “Went well for you, huh?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.  

Cassie had game. She did, okay? It was just--well, the rules of this island were different, and she hadn’t figured them out yet. Like, sometimes women in collars were scared of her, on account of the whole thing where she didn’t have a collar, and Cassie was--well, she was not great at being unassuming. In fact, she was pretty bad at it, actually, and tonight, just now, things had gone... Look, she didn’t want to say they’d gone badly. It was a learning experience, was all. 

Which was why she did not look particularly upset when the young man down the bar from her commented on her failure. Instead, she grinned, winked at him as she took the seat her prospective dance partner had vacated and gestured at the bartender. “What, that? Naaahhh, that was nothin’. I’m the motherfuckin’ rizzler, baby. She’ll be back.” She wouldn’t, and the self-deprecating tilt to Cassie’s grin told her she knew it. “Lemme get a beer,” she told the bartender. “And another of whatever this guy’s drinking, so I can say I bought someone a drink tonight.”

[jigsawfcrged]

@fantasywritten / adam continued from [x]

“YEAH, WELL…” Adam took a swig from his beer, then slumped against the back of his seat. “So do I. Welcome to the club.” He glanced over at her, offering her a forced smile that was clearly hiding his own trauma. “NEITHER OF US were meant to make it out, were we?”

There was a particular sort of nausea that came along with knowing there were other people in the world that shared her particular kind of trauma experience. Too many. She refused to let her thoughts drift to all of those that hadn't survived to live with the aftermath of Jigsaw's so called games. Like her husband. Fingers picked against one of the edges of the jack and coke that sat, mostly untouched, in front of her. "You ever wonder if maybe we didn't, really, and this is just -- purgatory?"

[owen-jackson]

Marked for Death || Layla & Jackson

Layla was managing pretty well, though her magic flared and sputtered at random intervals but she was riding the highs and lows with more ease than she'd expected. Her classes were paying off.

Others seemed to be having a tougher time. The longer the binding spells remained absent, the more volatile some seemed. She skirted the chaos as she moved down the island streets until her feet came to an abrupt halt.

Had she really seen that? Between the moving crowds, was that face real or were her old nightmares returning to haunt her? Was this all perhaps a dream? It couldn't be, the chaos of the boundary spell coming down was all too real. Then... was that face....

Layla gasped and took a couple steps back as the crowd cleared a bit and she saw the familiar face more clearly. No, it couldn't be! She couldn't really be standing there on the island streets!

Standing before her was her cousin Kalilah DuBois.

"Hello, traitor," Kalilah voice purred out.

Without the institute's protective magic, her family had found her and there was only one reason Kalilah would have been sent to track Layla down like this. The DuBois were seeking absolution from the Sang Vide coven by way of killing the traitor vessel of their family.

"H-how... h-h-how are y-you..." Layla sputtered.

"Seems like someone opened up the gates to your little paradise," Kalilah answered before Layla finished her question. She raised a hand as fire engulfed her fist. "At least you've picked a nice place to die." She offered a cruel smile before launching the ball of flames towards Layla, who stood frozen with fear.

--

Jackson wasn't even sure how long it had been since the explosion, somewhere along the way he'd managed to drop his phone, along with any hope of easily finding anyone. He'd been trying to keep himself away from the worst of the chaos, but he couldn't stop thinking about the people he couldn't find, not to mention it wasn't exactly easy to find a place to hide as a human on the island where an island of unbound supers couldn't find you.

He was heading towards the cells, hoping he might find someone, anyone, or even a place to stay safe for the time being. He was making his way around a corner, hoping to slip past a pair of women he hadn't been paying that close attention to, that was at least, until one of them threw a ball of flames in the direction of the other.

He leapt forward without thinking, arms wrapping around the brunette and tackling her to the ground, the ball of flames singeing the back of his shirt and leaving his back feeling uncomfortably hot.

"Fuck--what the fuck--" he looked over his shoulder with wide eyes at the attacker, scrambling clumsily off of Layla while trying to help her up. "C'mon we gotta run, come ON!" he yells, trying to grab Layla along with him.

[izzyphan]

like cinderella | tajhana & isabel

@tajhanasaha

Tajhana so rarely left the confines of her home and business, not because she did not enjoy all that was Destarin but rather because she felt she had a responsibility to remain there, in case anyone were to need her. Now that she had a few more employees though, well, she was trying to allow herself a little more freedom, at least when her third eye presented a security that she would not be too missed were she to go and that instead something or someone out in the world might need her more. It was what had drawn her to the woods, that third eye that was hidden within her forehead, opened only when necessary but felt by the seer at all times. Someone was to be there, someone who would be a great influence in the town and with all that had happened...well, it would be good to make sure that influence was a positive one. Her slippers taking slow steps through the woods nearest Ashharren, following the path of the carriage road until she saw one of regal makings, those who were working as escort seeming to take a break while her eye lead her to a space within the trees. Hearing a voice from the space Tajhana listened softly, assuming, of course, that she was the one being spoken to. "You already know of the messengers?" she asked, incidentally announcing her presence she believed was already known.

.

The shifter was so focused upon the bird that it didn't even occur to her yet that someone else was speaking to her. A couple more sentences were exchanged when the bluebird noticed her companion before Isabel did. "Oh!" came the surprised little sound as she turned towards the stranger.

She didn't want to admit it so boldly but the emissary slowly nodded at the woman's question. "Pyoter," she began, lifting her hand gently so as not to disturb the bird who'd given her such knowledge. His voice was still in her ear, but it was subdued with her attention elsewhere at the moment. Telepathically, Isabel reached out to the blue bird silently, wondering if he knew anything of her current companion.

"Um, Pyoter. Told me. Everyone is talking about it, I guess. Animal and people alike. And," Isabel continued, worrying at her bottom lip for a moment. It wasn't often she was so blatant with her abilities in front of strangers. "And some of his favorite raspberry bushes got trampled in the aftermath when some people ran."

[vievieveda]

@thevaaniiofcrirtha:

OPEN STARTER for anyone location ; Kosmos / the grocerer If anyone had told Vanathi the Vaanii two years ago that she'd be selling fruits and vegetables in a magic grocer shop, she would've laughed. Not just laughed, but probably laughed so hard she'd kicked a chair - or perhaps a table - over in her effort to calm herself and to enjoy how ridiculous that sounded. Now, it wasn't even that ridiculous, she loved the work. It was much better than getting killed every month, and then resurrected. Nobody would ever understand the pain of having to take a five hour steaming hot bath just to feel like yourself again... or well, possibly a lot of people did. If not: they were missing out. She placed a new load of freshly conjured purple potatoes in their little crate and greeted the unsuspected bystander. Her toothy smile meant to draw them in, even if at times it seemed like she wanted to hit you over the head with a Withering Watermelon.

"Would you like to sample some of our recently harvested snack cucumbers?"

.

The tavern was not quite as busy during the day as it was in the evenings, making it easier for its owner to take time away from the often bustling location. When Veda had left the warmth of the pub, it wasn't to wander so much as to complete a very specific job. With the Faire upcoming and the arrival of emissaries, vendors seemed to be taking it as a sign that doubling prices would go unnoticed. Nothing went unnoticed to the human, which was precisely why she was out and about on this very fine day. It was that ability to gather secrets that allowed her to 'negotiate' with Blood, Sweat, and Beers vendors into more reasonable pricing.

Considering the nature of some of those secrets, it was easier than Vee was even expecting. She didn't begrudge them for trying to take advantage of the market; but she was not the market. And she refused to be treated as such. Business completed, she was taking a lovely stroll back to Rocheilles when a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Snack cucumbers, Vanathi? Dare I ask what makes them a 'snack' and not a 'meal' vegetable?"

[neonvvaves]

from here . / @idledwritings

[ ✉ sending : ]

—   it's  not  you  letting  your  guard  down —   it's  you  being  human —   don't  lose  that.  it's  what  makes  you  a  damned  good  investigator —   how  are  you  holding  up? —   and  yeah,  it's  the  copycat  cold  case.  higher  ups  shelved  this  since  the  murders  suddenly  stopped.  they  claim  the  unsub  died  of  natural  causes,  an accident, or  by  their  own  choice —   whether  or  not  this  unsub's  deceased—  we  still  owe  it  to  the  victims and their  loved  ones  to  find  who  did  this