#query / ic.

[unfxllenone]

[LANTERNS] - HE SHOULDN'T BE HERE, shouldn't be interfering with her journey, and yet Kong remains, covered by a dusty travelling cloak as he presses through the crowds to the golden hair dancing lightly on the winds like waves. It's amusing to him in a way, the sense of Deja Vu that befalls him, like he's done this time and time again in the past, and yet he knows he has not.

Still, it's eager, shaking, hands that lift the lantern to her, golden eyes that shine from beneath the hood as wordlessly the lantern is held to her in a pale mimicry of the way others hold their lantern to those they care more about. He wants to speak that terrible phrase, the words that would doom his mission to fail, and yet he can't, continuing to pose merely as a nameless, voiceless traveller until eyes are following the lanterns to the darkened skies above.

His voice is like a whisper on the wind as the crowds begin to close in around them, allowing himself to be enveloped by the awestruck peoples so that he may once more disappear into the seas before she can chase after him.

"Happy Lantern Rite... Ying"

After all the excitement of this Rite, she's eager to simply sit and enjoy the grand crescendo of it all -- the tidal wave of lanterns due to be released to the sky. Family and friends gather around her, pressing close as the crowd continues to build, and all have the delight of that warm golden glow painted on their skin as the lanterns are lit in preparation for their release.

She enjoys her role as an observer -- understands it well -- and in moments like this, she cherishes it even for as bittersweet as it is.

She she barely notices as that stranger that strides up to her, gliding through the crowd like a ghost. There's a lantern pressed into her welcoming hands, too, making her a part of this festivity, and before she can ask why, she sees who.

" Kong-- " The breathless whisper barely escapes before he does, disappearing into the crowd as though he was never there at all.

A dumbfounded moment later, and she's shoving through the clumps of bodies with desperate fervor; the lanterns break skyward, and she stumbles, clumsy, like the flightless bird she's been forced to become. She reaches forwards and fails to grasp, like their separation centuries ago. She wishes the memories she forms with him on this world would stop their near-rhythmic predictability of just can't, just missed, just beyond her, but she will not be lucky enough to break that tune tonight.

Her footfalls come to a halt at the outside of the cluster, gaze casting left and right as though she might be able to continue her pursuit, but it's pointless. He is gone. Kong is far brighter than any lantern could ever be, far more akin to the sun in the sky, and yet he evanesces with the ease of a candle snuffed. How? How?

She can't help but to be angry at him for that. To come here, to see her, and yet to remain so out of reach -- she couldn't even get a word in. Her older brother is a fool and an idiot, and, tonight, again, he'll make her cry.

... he's alive, though. Well enough to come see her, albeit briefly, and she can't help but be a little relieved at that whispered turn of her name from a familiar voice. Even if she'd barely glimpsed his face, his expression, for her, has always been so obvious -- she'd gathered much from it in that cursory sweep. Her older brother is a fool and an idiot, and he misses her terribly, as much as she misses him.

Her hand covers her heart where it beats achingly in her chest, and she releases a sigh tinged with melancholy.

The anger disippates quickly as it appeared, and all that is left is the prickling warmth from the one she cherishes so dearly. Even if it takes another hundred years, she'll keep her promise. She'll keep chasing. Again and again and again, until they're reunited like they should be.

Her voice is quiet in return, weary but sincere, like laying an oath to rest.

"Happy Lantern Rite.. Kong."

[frostgnawd]

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

When he is 9,

The eyes of the governess stare down upon him as he's called to read aloud. His words don't trip over each other the way they had when he'd first arrived, tongue clumsy with the weight of a language he'd grasped odds and ends and no centers of, but they do stumble, stutter, cut off, when he meets her gaze. It's the weight of those eyes upon him that he is still not used to -- eyes free of the unique cross he will forever bear.

When he is 14,

Jean and Diluc take to presenting drills with practiced ease, as was part of the routine of the fearless Ordo Favonius, and while Kaeya had thought he'd have fully caught up to their bravado by now -- to put it simply, he hasn't. Today, again, his hand trembles as it grasps the hilt of his sword, and he nearly drops it when he swings, but at least he's started to learn to play off the laughter that inevitably comes his way. Work in progress, he tells himself. He promises the two dearest to him that he's just trying to ensure he'll never have to play leader -- I'm perfect otherwise, aren't I? -- and offers a jab about how he's certainly seen Diluc drop his claymore before to divert the subject.

When he is 17,

He stares at the church's entryway for a beat, then another, before sighing to himself and ultimately departing in favor of the Ordo Favonius barracks. There's a first aid kit there, though there's not a healer, but he's gleaned enough knowledge from the treatments he's received previously to know what he ought to do for the fresh burn that still sears the side of his face. Nobody's seen it just yet, thank gods, and he intends to keep it that way, ascot wadded up and pressed firmly to ensure the rain doesn't soak the injury. It might feel nice, but Kaeya doesn't want to know what kind of infections would come from the wrathful sky above. He makes sure to keep his head down in the hallways, and mentally works out what he'll explain to whatever captain he'll surely be shoved towards in the morning.

When he is 22,

He adjusts the garments carefully, gingerly, feeling both at home and foreign entirely in the ensemble he's been provided. Idyia calls him from her place on the stage, and Kaeya meanders out from the fitting room obediently to present his new ensemble. When so many eyes land on him, he can't help but fidget with the dressing, shifting side to side in a motion that almost looks nervous.

It seems, even after all these years, he's still terribly shy.

[fallensxvior]

“Happy Birthday, Sir!”

"Keenie, my friend, my birthday is in April!" he laughed, embracing the fallen Cherub with a smile.

But he could not resist her cheer and her joy, infectious as it always had been. The girl was without compare, a light that warmed the soul as soon as one drew close. "But thank you.. none the less. Are you doing anything for Sinsmas? I am told it's a popular holiday in Hell."

[the-unconquered-queen]

Because I'm seeing cakegate on my dash again, let's stir up some old drama

[askganondorftobadragmire]

What is your relationship with Ghirahim like?

Just hearing the name makes his blood boil, but he keeps an outwardly calm but callous appearance. It's only a question, a curiosity.

"Close before he betrayed my trust. I do not wish to speak of it, so I suggest refraining from inquiring more."

[voiderequiem]

「 @universestreasures | Yudias Velgear」 issued a challenge:

"Zuwijo?" The prince tugs at the taller male's sleeves, teal eyes looking at him with that face that was hard for the captain to ignore. "Please stay by my side till I've fallen asleep. I do not wish to be alone tonight." (From Yudias)

His place was not here. His place was to stand at the ready outside the prince's door. A job some should think be saved for someone ranked below a soldier of Zuwijo's caliber-- he had become the captain of the guard, after all. But Zuwijo had personally requested the position some time ago, and ever since it had become an integral part of his duties and routine.

Like this he could keep an eye out for the prince; keep him out of trouble, out of danger. But more than anything, somewhere along the way, he himself couldn't rest without the prince nearby-- something he'd never admit if it could be helped. Should something happen to his charge the moment he wasn't looking.......he'd never forgive himself. And a worried sleep was no sleep at all, he's come to find. He could perform best if he was well rested, and being well rested came only after he was sure the prince was at ease first.

With that in mind and heart; he had been quick to turn on his heel to take his leave after the Velgearian prince had settled into bed. Only to be stopped just as quickly, the call of his name upon the prince's tongue stopping him in his tracks before the resistance on his person could be registered.

His attention returned to other without question or hesitation, the air of professionalism surrounding the captain never one to waver. Or rather... it was never one to waver under normal circumstances, but the moment his lilac hues had locked with those teals his breath had caught in his throat-- stuck there, suffocating him until he had managed to free his own voice through a small cough disguised behind a disgruntled sort of noise. The sort of noise that was easy to mistake as a mark of annoyance, an emotion that could easily explain the difficult expression he now wore, despite that being the furthest from the truth.

❝ At your command, my prince. ❞

Without removing himself from the other's grasp he returns to his side, standing at the ready without any indication he would take a seat while waiting for the prince to fall asleep.

But he doesn't stand there quietly, no. The shifting of fabric sounding as loud as the clashing of blades as Zuwijo moves to rest his palm under that of the prince's hand that was still attached to his sleeve. His way of making sure his presence was felt by the other should they close their eyes.

❝ ...You need not be alone. ❞ A sudden say from the captain who doesn't ask for permission before speaking plainly in a softened tone; a trait between those of their ranks and positions that only they seemed to share. It was moments like this that dissolved the barrier between a royal and his guard that only the prince had been capable of creating. And Zuwijo couldn't help but fall into it, the prince's trap, each and every time. ❝ Tonight or any other night. ❞ -

[sxverana]

The draculina would be visited, seemingly at random, by a small ball of iridescent but soft light - which passed by one of the windows of her home. It darted around for a while, stopping at the door and seemingly attempting to... crawl underneath the door? It was very much like seeing a cat reach its paw through the impossibly small space before it quickly gave up and wooshed away.

"..?" Her ears perked with interest, feeling a small pull to follow the light. Whatever it was, wherever it was leading.. She couldn't help but need to know.

It wasn't long before she was trying to chase it down, heels clatting on the hardwood floors of her home with every step.

[chronicleking]

「 @universestreasures​ | Kisara」 issued a challenge:

Her wings and tail were in full view as Kisara gazed upon him, for she had no need to hide her true self before him when they were here. She pats the white fabric of her gown on her lap, an invitation for Seto to join her and relax in her lap. The dragoness could see something hidden in his radiant blue eyes, something that singled a deep concern. "Tell me what ails you, my dearest." (From Kisara, Nobles UwU.)

He doesn't relax, even as she comes into his full view. His shoulders remain squared and his gaze remains one carved from ice. A harsh expression to most who found themselves exposed to it, but to Kisara... she always managed to see past his frigid exterior-- Treating the glass surrounding his heart as if it were more akin to that of a window than the mirror he viewed it as.

--An opaque mirror which reflects that of the world around it, the beauty and misery of it all, and keeps it out. Or a crystalline window which allows the light to pass through it to combat the darkness sealed within.

Either way; the glass cracked before Kisara's silvery-toned voice.

It was a dangerous weapon. One that only the maiden could wield. One that could destroy him at any moment should she so choose.

He stops in his tracks the moment she spoke, as if he dares not to overshadow the tune with the echoing of footfalls. A few seconds pass before Seto responds in kind-- only after the lingering vibrations in the air settle completely.

❝ Shouldn't you know by now? I don't bring my business back into your bedroom. ❞

The words he speaks are cold in nature, but the voice that delivered them told a slightly different tale. To the untrained ear it was easy to miss, but for those close to him they knew it was Seto's way of acknowledging concerns without completely invalidating them through blunt rejection.

He just... rather not talk about it right now. Not when Kisara's inviting gesture drew him in so.

...It's not information he rather her be privy to either. Considering the weight of what's just been thrown upon him. But he can't just hope for her to drop the matter so easily. Had it been anyone else he would have had just told her to forget it and let him be.

❝ ...Those old geezers, ❞ Mentioning them at all should spell out his troubles. The elders have been nothing but troublesome since the moment Seto's memories burdened him. Not only do they cause him to struggle at every turn with his rise to power, now they're trying to use him as a bargaining chip! HIM! If they think they can do such a thing without retaliation on his side then they were sorely wrong. ❝ I'm going to change the way things are run around here, I swear it-- ❞

The coat hanging off his shoulders slips off with ease, the lustrous fabric flowing into rippled piles on the white tiled floors. It was if a waterfall had just run dry-- beautiful as it's last drop fell before then revealing all the uglied jagged dangers that lay beneath it's surface. Seto was much the same. All the bright whites of the surface of his world couldn't begin to bring light to the darkest parts of himself.

At least, That was what he once thought. That was until he had met Kisara, who's light threatened to obliterate him completely if he wasn't careful when basking in it.

When he lowers to his knees before her it's with great care despite how his body argued with him to simply accept her and trust the weight of it all to her; his troubles as well as himself. Instead he first places his hand atop her own, welcoming the warmth of her skin that came at a great contrast given how cold to the touch she appeared to be.

A beauty, carved of marble and ice.

How part of him wished to preserve her seemingly delicate nature, despite knowing very well how wrong that perception of her was. The other part of him knew better than anyone-- That she was not as fragile as this form would lead most to believe. But knowing that wasn't enough for Seto.

It didn't matter if he could believe in Kisara's power. It didn't matter if he could trust in her or Mokuba to protect themselves. With the way things were now none of that mattered. It was only a matter of time before something outside his control would happen again-- And with the recent announcement of his arrangement resounding inside his head and heart it was becoming clear. Now more than ever.

He couldn't sit around and wait any longer, he had to start pushing back against these ridiculous traditions. He wasn't going to remain a pawn on someone else's playing board forever. He was going to become a king-- The King of Kings of this land and do more than return it to it's former glory. He was going to usher in an entirely new age; one where Kisara could once again spread her wings outside the walls he had built around her. As his eye finally locks his gaze with her own his mumbling rant changes into something full of resolve.

❝ --I swear it. On my very life. ❞

It's only then that he seems to relax all at once. As if an incredible weight was finally withdrawn from his shoulders as he finally accepts Kisara's invitation to lower his head down onto her lap. But even this seemed more like a deep bow-- a sealing of a promise-- than anything. -

[bookwyrminspiration]

attempting to connect the thunder saga to acod but i haven’t reread it lately and my brain is tired what are your thoughts???

Mulled over this for a few days and I'm thinking perhaps we can tie Ody's arc in Scylla/Mutiny to Thaena's warping idea of what being a guardian means.

Odysseus decides 6 men is a sacrifice he gets to make alone, as Thaena thinks the destruction of the Vané nation is worth buying time and that she can force that call. "Give up your honor and faith," like how being a Guardian becomes so distorted from its original purpose she's appoints herself master of who lives and dies. Literally. "We must do what it takes to survive" as her justification--she's saving humanity, so anything towards that end is excusable or necessary.

And as Eurylochus cannot abide that and stabs Ody in the back, Teraeth stabs and kills his mother. A parallel to "then you have forced my hand," because he literally had no other choice but to die and take a nation with him. Neither of them wanted to, but they had to. Because "there is no price he won't pay."

We could also tie that to Relos Var I suppose--man, Thaena would hate how similar they are. The justification and impossible prices he'll pay.

I'm sure there's other ties that can be made, but that was the first one that came to mind

[enterpainment]

「 @universestreasures | Serena」 issued a challenge:  

Serena was a hard worker. Of her siblings, she pushes herself the most often and with the most incredible intensity. Her training were constant, usually taking place late at night following a long day of insufferable lessons or outings with her forced betrothed. By all means she should rest, but she can't afford to if she was to break free of this hell hole. One such evening, she finds herself sparing again with Yuri, who had become a constant in her training due to her father's interference. However, he did serve some use as a sparing partner and a person for her to vent out her frustrations to. If he has to stick around, might as well have a purpose. After once again managing to pin him to a wall, with sweat dripping down her face, Serena suddenly feels her body turn off. Seems like her exhaustion from the long day and hours of training had finally caught up to her, and her body fell unconscious right onto the retainer's suited form. (Nobles To Yuri. Let's see Yuri Disney Fastplay LMFAO)

On most nights Yuri didn't mind this. He quite enjoyed playing this game with her, actually; one where he could watch her face twist in frustration everytime she failed to put him down in a timely manner. He'd often throw her a bone, allowing her some advantage before turning it around on her in some way, shape or form. Mostly in the verbal sense as she was fairly easy to irritate. Unfortunately, to him at least, in their dynamic it was the only power he currently held over her.

Like this, stuck in this...skin suit, he'd call it, she could overpower him in the physical sense. But Yuri had ways to remind her that his word, and by proxy, the word of her father was far stronger than her will to run him through and be done with this obligation of hers.

But it would seem that tonight even Yuri was reaching his limit though, as evident of his movements starting to lack the usual enthusiasm he reserved for these sessions. He almost didn't even try when Serena caught him slacking--

The force of his back hitting the wall so suddenly was more than enough to rattle this frail form of his, much to his annoyance. Compared to his kin though; Yuri was not one to complain needlessly.

❝ ...This has gone on quite long enough, hasn't it? ❞

As much as Yuri would looooooooove to spend all his nights having the girl chase him around with her teeth bared, he was beginning to become irate with it. It was the same song and dance each night now, and it was starting to bore him. And honestly, he'd rather be tending to his propagation operations. The manor was all sorts of dull and stuffy, and it was solely on him to spruce the place up a bit using his talents. At this rate all the plants he had painstakingly nurtured thus far would dry out and die off before Serena would go to bed.

How funny it truly was though, the tables turning as they were.

That's when all the power behind her hold all but vanished, and soon enough the only thing keeping him against the wall now was the weight of Serena's body collapsed against his own.

Oh...

....Huh.

He was starting to think it wasn't going to work-- The thought tickled him in such a way a light chuckle escaped him as he moved an arm under her own to keep her from slipping out from him and onto the floor. Wouldn't want to wake her up now.

❝ That took a lot longer to build up in your system than I thought. ❞

Really, she should know better by now to think he'd play their game fairly.

Once he was sure he had secured his hold on her, he frees his other arm out from under her. He lifts a finger, revealing the perfectly manicured nail had been sharpened to a fine point. A quick glance and it was easy to miss how it had been the only one shaped in such a way, as if on purpose. It was then he brushes the loose strands of her ponytail aside to reveal the nape of her neck before lightly grazing the claw-like nail across her skin-- One of many thin scratches he had managed to tag her with over the course of their fight.

Dripping from the line he drew was a substance far too light in color to be blood... The beautiful pink hue was Yuri's own design, of course. A poison he had developed specifically for Serena and her recent problem.

She surely wouldn't take kindly to the idea of him poisoning her into taking a nap though, so he had kept it subtle by keeping the doses small and building it up over time.

And of course, this was by no means the poison he personally produced. He was still saving that one for the day Serena accepted his loyalty to her. This was just a simple sleep-aid derived from one of the many gardens he had helped to maintain in his time here. He's sure she'll come to appreciate the many things he brings to her table, but in the mean time he'll be sure to appreciate the silence the rest of the night should now bring.

After bestowing the last of his gift to his mistress he'll move to toss her unceremoniously up and over his shoulder. Had he not been her retainer this would make for a quite a scene, but considering his position and Serena's own nature he's sure no one would bother with them as he takes the long way back to her chambers. He had to check on all his precious little sprouts on the way, of course. It helped that the hour was so late though, fortunately for her there shouldn't be any in the halls to witness the scene anyway despite how entertaining it might've been.

❝ Take a nice long rest, princess. Your strikes were really rather weak today, I'll have to report as much to your father, you know? ❞ -

[elite-amarys]

So uh. Wyrm n you. What's your deal with her?

Wyrm uses it/its or he/him pronouns. He is of fae descent, and holds a preconceived dislike of me due to my Steel type specialty. It also conducts itself in a way I find deeply disagreeable. It frequently makes threats of violence or death against my fellow students, and does not back down when informed that he is crossing a boundary.

He is a violent and dangerous individual, and I am deeply annoyed that its connection to the Director means that I cannot do much of anything to stop it. It is also incredibly insistent that we abide by Fae rules while refusing to so much as acknowledge the rules set forth by the humans at BBA. I find this deeply unfair and hypocritical.

More than anything, though, I am concerned for my friend Lloyd, who is in a romantic relationship with this person.

[unfxllenone]

SCENE: LANTERNS

"The sky is absolutely dazzling tonight; each lantern representing a wish…each light a memorial. It's a lovely sentiment that warms the heart, ensuring none shall be forgotten…and a beautiful scene, wouldn't you agree?"

THE DIRECTOR appears, standing beside LUMINE in the small group of people releasing lanterns at the docks. The orange lights dot the night sky like stars, reflections glittering on the calm surface of the harbor. He greets his prospective talent with a casual smile, a piercing glint in his eye betraying an ulterior motive.

This particular actor had stuck out in the crowd… She's going places. He holds out a business card as part of an introduction, though it doesn't contain any further identifying information other than what he elaborates on next.

"Ah, do pardon the interruption…Mr. Reca, director. This is my first time on this set, but I can tell you've had quite the adventures here."

Her weary gaze out to sea, the way she carries herself as if there's a weight on her shoulders--one doesn't need to be a mind reader to see this actor has a story.

"Perhaps you could give me some local rrrecommendations, my dear?"

She's a little solemn, admittedly, after the earlier events. She doesn't voice it, because there are some feelings that go beyond words -- and, really, who is there to tell?

Instead, her gaze lingers out on the rippling tides that reflect the golden light above, and she dwells, despite herself.

( Which lantern is theirs? It's lost amongst the masses. She'd have to let it go anyway, so it's alright, but.. )

The sudden appearance at her side wouldn't normally catch her off guard in a place like this, but, given her reverie, it does. Her startled gaze finds the stranger beside her, and then his card, and, given it would be rude to leave him hanging, she takes it with both hands. The same earnest grasp that had accepted countless red envelopes. A blink, once, a slight furrow of her brow given how limited the information presented was (notably, it doesn't say where he's from), before she looks to meet a unique crimson gaze again.

"Is that so?" She offers, lips quirking with amusement. She's heard this line before. Fingers crossed it's for nothing too serious.

And it's not. All he wants are a few recommendations, and that is surely within her wheelhouse -- no matter her mood.

"I have quite a few. You must have a good eye, Mr. Reca." She returns, tucking the card into her pocket.

"Unfortunately, you've might've missed the Wushu dance, but I can show you a few teahouses where smaller performances are being held into the evening. Should I ask which you might enjoy most, or do you want to risk me just guiding you to what I think you'll like?"

[frostgnawd]

🎄

tw: alc mention || @currentlyoffwork

" Now look who's all by his lonesome! "

Kaeya grins at the stranger who's settled himself in a corner, content to read his book despite the not-so-peaceful-quiet of the tavern's patio. But then Kaeya notices the headphones the stranger dons; a blink, once, twice, and he taps the side of his head, mimicking the position of the earpieces, as if to ask if he's currently being tuned out.

And then, whether he is or isn't, he points upwards -- stares, for a beat, until he's certain the other has noticed the mistletoe above them too.

There's a half-hearted shrug (mostly because one hand holds a very precious goblet of wine he cares not to spill) as if to say it can't be helped, you know.

" But don't worry-- " Kaeya promises, elbows pressing onto the table for support. " I'll hardly disturb you. "

And he actually keeps to his word -- Alhaitham doesn't even have to put down his book, because Kaeya just presses a kiss on the hand holding up whatever esoteric novel he's indulging himself in. Something on Deshret, Kaeya vaguely notes.

His eye crinkles as he peeks over the cover of the book, and when he pulls back, the rest of his expression looks just as playfully smug. As if he's actually accomplished something here.

" Thank you for sharing the moment, friend ~! " And with that, Kaeya turns on his heel, offering little more than a wave over his shoulder as he disappears into the crowd again.

[fallensxvior]

"Y'know I still think Adammas has a better ring to it."

"Bring it up to Dad, not me, Adam. He's the one with final say."

He scoffed, biting the tip off a magen david cookie. "It's not even my actual birthday anyhow. I was born in April."

[unhindercd]

Bonding Experiences

[ The Visit ]

Cecil's visitation to the Auckland Chantry has been met with perhaps a surprising level of warmth for one not telegraphed as going to occur before it did. By extension, the cities Prince in general has remained incredibly welcoming. Voicing permission to his guest that they may do as they please, within reasonable bounds. Most of those bounds seemingly needing to go unspoken to one who is a Primogen of an old world city. Although more specific ones to do with 'Do not feed from xyz locations' are provided under the precipice of not wishing for any toes to get trodden on.

He carries himself with far more warmth in person than online, perhaps it is to be expected, perhaps not. He certainly mimics all the little subtleties of a living person far smoother than one would anticipate any vampire his age to - it makes his slight toning down of it on the evening he decided to corner Cecil quite the shotgun on the table effect. The threat was only meant to be subtle. Make clear that despite some of his jaded words he is happy for victorian pair, that he wishes them well, that he wants them to make the most of their opportunity, but he will side with Daniel if things sour in such a way intervention becomes necessary.

Beyond that significant encounter, he has mainly been preoccupied with work - and it has instead been The Twins who have served as Cecil's main hosts. The William's. Thea and Steph. They're identical for the most part, and mid-twenties at embrace. Having rarely hosted peers from their clan they're actually quite intrigued at the prospect of having someone new to talk to concerning Thaumaturgy for a bit. Especially someone born into the same generation as them. Thea being kept busy by Leo's work results in Stephan playing the predominant host to their guest. He's very proud of the library he's taken over from their deceased sire, noting his additions to it and the troubles involved in getting new literature down there. Aside from attempting to lure Cecil into conversations about rituals he'd of offered to play driver to show him around town. How much of his attention came from some kind of behind the scenes directive not to leave their guest alone and how much was out of genuine enthusiasm to point out places of note is never clear.

But Cecil is never truly left alone in the city. Danny is certainly eager to show him around once wizardly discussions simmer off in favour of the locals getting work done. Whether the others accompanied them on any such outing was something Danny left to Cecil's discretion.

A consistent theme of the stay has been Lachlan's repeated presence. 'Do you think-' 'So it's been since-' 'Do you know where-' Trying again and again to get everyone into a single room until eventually agreements are made.

---

[ The Event ]

The time and place are scheduled. It shall be an indoor affair set across the dining room table at midnight. Providing everyone enough time to settle in beforehand. It is seemingly one of the 'non-Tremere' guest receiving areas of the haven considering it's direct connection to the parlour and the wards upon the doors not leading back out to said room.

On the western side of the house it's windows stand open on this summers evening. The lace net curtains moving in time with the light breeze. The buzz of state highway 1 along the coastline a couple hundred metres down the cliff provides a background white noise to this undead gathering.

Full moon is the 25th of February.

Lachlan kneels on a chair halfway down the length of the old dark table. Hands picking at the decorative elements of a crystal serving dish. It's enough of a bowl to serve their purposes for tonight. Clearly picked from the hutch cabinet display down the far enough of the room given the the void left among the otherwise elegant display of precious unused dishware. He's donned his 'priests' outfit and eagerly awaits the complete gathering.

The households ghoul currently makes the rounds, offering blood of a (so far) unspecified source from a stone jug to be poured into shallow glasses. His name has surely been overheard in the last few nights. Ernie? Ernest? Can always err on the side of caution and settle for 'Sir' or no address at all.

The twins have chattered amongst themselves to this point, seeming more preoccupied with tasks outside this current gathering than those around their kitchen table. Stephan sits in a chair across and down the table a place from Lachlan, he's appeared the same every night. As if he got dressed in 1928 and never changed since. Thea stands directly across from him leaning on the back of a chair. Her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and acrylics tap-tapping on the chair, her various pieces of gold jewellery strike out against her otherwise fairly corpo-goth style.

The two's discussion has most recently turned to the those they're still waiting on - Prince Lehmann, and Malkavian Primogen Alexandria.

"Honestly, how long do'ya think Alex is gonna end up keeping Len for? Never bodes well when she's late to something - she probably thinks she has to leave at a particular minute or the car'll crash like she thought last I gave her a ride." "Eh- maybe? More likely he trying to delegate something that's come up at the last second. That or hitting every red light on the way back. He doesn't just run the damn things these days but I guess that'd part the curse of CCTV."

As if that be the magic word for Danny, he slips from his obfuscation. He hasn't gone far from last scene. His continued presence in the gathering long marked by a withdrawn chair besides Cecil's. He's curled himself into a ball, slipped so far down in his seat his knees are to his chin and feet rest upon the edge of the table with no regards to manners. It's a position he ungracefully shifts himself a degree upright out from. The latest phone he'd obtained is open to the notes app- and for the the umpteenth time he leans over to show the display Cecil.

[ 'Things are everywhere, think I could fill the footage banks of some with AI garbage some point?' ]

Arthur Hestor, commonly known as Wart, is not in attendance.

@earlgreyritae

[askganondorftobadragmire]

What do you associate with the word Spirit?

"Typically, the visual of a soul or a nonphysical entity comes to mind, but there is another. Spiritual Magic gives a rainbow-colored visual, which divinity uses instead of Elemental or Ethereal Magic. Thus, it is an ability of the Six Sages, the Dovehearts, and Boarbloods like myself."

"You could say I see both representations melded together."