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Forums > Socialize > Writer's Nook
   1 

Marked for Death ♱May 18, 2024 11:43 AM


Salem

Neutral
 
Posts: 5413
#3026038
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This is just a place for me to write a bit of lore related to characters I have. Made them for the RP Bloodbound but ended up liking them enough to have a whole bloodline and story and .. yeahh ^^"
Anyways, here's the starting story, more to come.
Feel free to comment, I don't mind anything you may have to say. If you're being purposefully rude though, or going against rules, I'll call a mod on ya.
Alba felt a slight breeze on his cheek, the sound of a fan humming in the background. He stared at the bright screen of his phone in the darkness of his room. He would have to get up in a few hours and hadn't even slept yet, but who needed sleep when you could panic?

He had been texting with his cousin Aeliana all through the night when she said she needed to go because she heard howling. It seemed like she didn't think it was wolves, but rather a Marked. The Marked were very dangerous, and Alba couldn't help but worry about his family member and best friend. She was trained just like him to hunt and kill the Marked, but it had been illegal for three years now.

He couldn't help but worry since she hadn't come back to her phone. They were all grown up and capable of many things, but still... The light from his phone was starting to wear on his eyes, so he was forced to put it down instead of continuing to stare at it and squint like a moron.

He pulled the covers up over himself, setting his phone under his pillow after plugging it in. He had found a few years ago that when he did this, his phone charged much faster. No reason why that he could find, it just happened. So, he did it as a routine. Once a few minutes had passed, his mind gave in to sleep and he ended up dreaming. Tomorrow would be difficult, as he would have to meet with Aeliana's second cousin. Family relations and bloodlines were too hard for him to keep track of, so he preferred not to.

Time passed, the sun rose in the sky, and Alba's alarm went off. He felt the vibrations before he heard the irritating noises coming from his phone under his pillow. He had made it more difficult to turn off his alarm, requiring his phone to be unlocked, and he had to go INTO the app to turn it off. This was because he always seemed to sleep through alarms.

Alba managed to silence his alarm and, with that, got up from bed. He sleepily walked into the kitchen, which was rather big and daunting. He pulled out a metal sheet pan, thin and almost rusty-looking. It worked well, and there was no rust on it, so that was good. He grabbed chicken nuggets from the freezer after setting the sheet pan on the oven top, shaking the bag over it and spreading out the chicken nuggets accordingly. He set the oven to bake at 425°F.

He left the kitchen and flopped back into bed. His method for cooking was to wait until the beep from the oven, and they always seemed to be perfectly cooked that way. He laid there for the better part of the time, but he did pull himself up from the bed and managed to get dressed in his usual light grey shirt, which showed off his muscles until he pulled a black hoodie over his head. It had a zipper, but he wasn't thinking and just did what he did with the other ones, sliding it up and over his head. Alba grabbed a random pair of black sweatpants that fit him perfectly and pulled those on as quickly as possible. At this point, he heard the beep of the oven and decided to rush.

He ran, not really but close enough, to the oven and took the nuggets out. He set them carefully back onto the stove top. He got a plate and put it under the thin sheet pan, sliding the chicken nuggets one or two at a time onto his plate. He grabbed a ketchup bottle and a mustard bottle and squirted a medium amount of each beside each other on his plate. He let them cool down there as he went back to his room.

Alba rummaged around his closet. The feeling of different fabrics was normally disorienting to him, but his own clothes were always picked out perfectly for him and him alone, which meant this time it was feeling pretty nice. It was soft, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He was already late, which was what he planned for. He slipped on his usual silver rings onto his fingers, brushed his hair a bit, and ruffled it up to make it fall effortlessly into place.

He felt like that was good enough and walked back to the kitchen where his now cool chicken nuggets were sitting. Alba sat himself down at a wooden table. He was quiet as he ate, thoughts wandering towards Aeliana again. He hadn't gotten any new texts from her. Maybe Samara had something to do with it? He didn't know how the two felt about each other, but he got some bad vibes from Samara Harlow. He always just assumed it was because they had very different lineage, but maybe there was more to it?

Alba gracefully slid his way over to the sink counter, placing his plate and fork there to clean later. He moved quickly to the front door, picking his combat boots up off the floor and sliding them onto his feet. He grabbed a black jacket, not leather but gave the appearance of such material, and slung it over his shoulders. He grabbed his keys, phone, and his smaller weapons, such as a few knives. He hid the weapons under his jacket in various inside hidden pockets. They were made by him, Alba himself. When you start being a Stalker, you usually have a mentor, and that mentor took Alba to make his own weaponry, even his swords, which were staying at home for this trip.

Alba left his house and began his walk towards Samara and their meeting place. She wasn't clear about what she had been talking about when they set up the meeting, but Alba was more than happy to try out his puzzle-solving skills. He assumed the way he was supposed to go was down North Street and up a bit to Wildsprite Park. Wildsprite was known best for having a large forest and for a case long ago where Marked stole passersby and left them in the forest. That was just the story though; many think it was made up to scare children and show how horrible the Marked can end up being. It wasn't wrong, but he did feel a slight ick towards the fairytale.

He took his phone out of his pocket, briefly powering it up and checking the directions again. He looked up, checking where he was going and back down to his phone as he walked. This pattern went on for more than thirty minutes until he finally arrived. He walked down the dirt path many people had walked down. He couldn't help but admire the trees and just how pretty it looked at this time of day.

"Samara!" Alba called. Where could she be? This place was huge! He turned around, back to the front, looking for her on end. Suddenly, his senses were telling him this was a bad idea. Only a second after that, he heard the flapping of giant black wings behind him, and before he could think, he was tackled down to the ground. He was pressed down hard and fast, disorienting him. He blacked out after something was pressed over his face, and when he woke up... everything was different.

It felt as if quite a bit of time had passed, maybe a few days? He had no phone with him anymore, and he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't help but groan in pain and wince when he rolled over—there were wings on his back! He was now startled up and standing, wings spread out reactively in fear. It seemed like a bad version of the owl threat posture on a human. His wings were white like an owl's too...

He almost screamed, covering his mouth to stop himself. 'I've been turned!' His thoughts were reeling. He had no idea that a Marked could turn a human into one of them. This was bad. This was REALLY bad! He couldn't go home after this. He couldn't even see Aeliana again after this incident. His whole world was crushed now; all he knew were Stalkers, and they would kill him on sight even if it was illegal...

He felt a pair of eyes on his back, and when he turned to face them, he was met with menacing light blue eyes staring him down—a woman in silver armour who seemed to want to kill him.


Edited at May 18, 2024 11:46 AM by Salem
Marked for Death ♱May 23, 2024 12:03 AM


-Sweet-Poison-

Neutral
 
Posts: 968
#3027294
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Will require more wonderfully crafted word soup eventually
:>
Marked for Death ♱May 23, 2024 12:55 AM


Salem

Neutral
 
Posts: 5413
#3027308
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Blocks. Lots of blocks. Some were green, some were red, and some were blue. The one thing they all shared in common was the letters that covered each side; all the blocks had a different letter. Alba was gifted these from one of his aunts. He couldn't be bothered to remember her name since she seemed like more of a background character type of person, but he knew it started with a C. Clara, maybe?

His room was rather nice, although small. It had a certain fantasy charm to it. His bed wasn't really a bed but seemed to be more of three chairs put together with a mattress on top, covered in dull green, light green, and shades of brown blankets. All his blankets were soft to the touch. The wall behind his bed was striped and painted, the wood that looked more sunken in was painted to be a lighter shade, possibly birch wood? The wood that was made to pop out more was painted to look more like oak. There was a messy V shape as vines and leaves fell lazily down. Two big branches stuck out, looking as if they had impaled the wall and the house owners had decided to just go with it.

Golden white mushroom tops popped out every so often from these leaves as well. Beneath him, there was a light green, incredibly soft rug. It seemed like a tree shape was etched into the green rug, but Alba never cared enough to double-check. He just walked over it like it was intended. Bordering the vines that covered the V-shaped wall above his bed was a large cylindrical window. This window was covered with white curtains that flowed with the soft breeze.

Going along that same direction across his room was a small chair. This chair had a tiny wooden arch over it with yet another nature decoration. Almost placed at the top, his mother had placed a large dull red mushroom atop this arch. She had positioned it to look crooked, and it was fine by design, but he couldn't help but be annoyed that it wasn't perfectly straight when he looked at it, even if it was very pretty.

He loved that chair and that little arch. It always felt so cozy and peaceful, always telling you that you were at home and safe. No matter if you were a guest or the owner of the house.

He had invited a friend over to play today, or rather his mother had insisted. Alba wasn't a super social child, and his parents often worried that he wasn't good at making friends and thought it would affect him horribly. In reality, Alba didn't care to put effort into making friends. He was a friendly guy, but the people at his current school really weren't the nicest people in the world. He didn't like how they acted above others, and even though the Marked were classified as something to hunt and kill, he hated how they talked about them like they were objects.

His attention was brought back to reality, right in front of him, when Lila smashed two blocks together. They made a loud, not quite high-pitched but hurtful enough to be the same thing, type of sound. A blue 'K' and a green 'A' block were now chipped, one corner of each block now cut off. 'Why do I even offer my toys? I know they're going to be broken...'

"Why would you do such a thing?" Alba hissed angrily as he snatched the blocks from his playmate's hands.

"I was just... they weren't right!" Lila tried to explain, but no matter how she worded it, he would think she was crazy. Something about those blocks just made her want to smash them together... or maybe it was just her own urges. But if it was... he'd be mad at her, and then they couldn't be friends!

Alba was fighting the urge to push her over. Why would you ever intentionally break someone else's possessions?! Even if they weren't the most important and came from someone he put no effort into remembering, it was still rude!

"Dinner's ready." That's when he looked up and saw his mother, Scarlett, standing over them. Looming from the doorway, her melodic voice carried from her stance. Lila scurried away after her and left Alba to clean up the blocks. Was she ever useful? He doubted it.

Just as he placed the last block, a red block with the letter 'W' written on it, down on top of the rest in his orange chest, there was a noise... wings? It sounded like wings fluttering from the hallway. As curious as he was, he couldn't help himself. Alba was carried away, and as he popped his head to look around the corner, he was met with the sight of giant, enormous black wings! They looked much like an owl's but much more ominous. And just like that, they were gone.

Marked for Death ♱May 23, 2024 08:48 PM


The Tea Drinkers

Darkseeker
 
Posts: 2612
#3027568
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gorgeous. yum. like eating fresh baked cookies >:3
Marked for Death ♱May 23, 2024 11:32 PM


Salem

Neutral
 
Posts: 5413
#3027609
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This has nothing to do with Alba. This is all about Dahlia and her lore.
Dahlia crouched down, keeping as close to the ground as possible while still able to move fluidly. This was planned, so why was her breathing sped up? Every time she stole, or did anything against the law, she was incredibly nervous.
This man, Evan Harper, was one of the richest in Wyldwood. He was very popular among the locals, but Dahlia and The Forsaken had found out that he was bribing law enforcement not to improve the town's security but to further his own gains and protect himself from potential 'threats'. These threats were supposedly both The Forsaken and Snakes, Dahlia's gang of outlaws and her rival gang. Neither of them were targeting him.

Dahlia had her own personal morals, and since her old mare Mesa had died, she needed a new one. Evan's newest purchase, a mare named Mirage, seemed like the perfect fit. Mirage was a black paint horse, fully black with just her underbelly looking as if lightning had struck across it, and a little sock-like marking on her left back ankle. On her right flank, there was a splotched marking that kind of looked like a crescent moon and a very clear diamond marking on her forehead.

Mirage was supposedly very fast and sturdy, exactly what Dahlia needed for a quick and reliable getaway. She was tall, as well, which, in all honesty, Dahlia was not expecting. Quickly and quietly, Dahlia slipped on the black saddle she was carrying and fitted it onto Mirage's back. She fitted reins onto her as well just as swiftly.

Dahlia had to admire how calm Mirage was being through it all as she hoisted herself up onto the saddle. She gently patted the horse's neck and leaned down so as not to be seen as best as possible. She poked her head up every now and again to check for Evan. His house had a giant window overlooking the stables, but if all went according to plan, he shouldn't be able to see her. But she didn't want to take any chances.

"There, there," Dahlia cooed. She guided the horse to another section of the stable where a second horse was. This one was a dark brown Morgan breed, another one good to bring back to the other outlaws. She slipped a saddle onto its back and reins over his head. She then led them to the third horse she would take on this trip. All horses so far were calm as could be, an immaculate amount of trust placed in Dahlia.

This one seemed to be a mustang horse, and male. This one was a vibrant blue shade that would make anyone go 'woah'. Right next to him was another mustang, grey and splattered with black in a paint-ish way. Sadly, she couldn't take more than three with her at a time. She'd have to come back.

She led them all out carefully, and everything was in the clear. Just as they were setting out into just a bit faster than a trot, she heard loud yelling in the distance. "HEY! She's stealing my horses!" and "Get her!" but it was all too late. She was gone with the wind, horses in hand.

She turned momentarily to flip them off with the hope that they saw and got even angrier. They'd come looking for her, but hey, they'd never find her. They'd never get these horses back either. The blue Mustang would go to Sophia Johnson, her 'second in command' with The Forsaken. The dark brown Morgan wouldn't go to anyone right away, more likely a prize later on for a member's good work. It would still be taken care of just as well as the rest.

"And you'll be mine," Dahlia grinned, talking idly to the black horse under her as she rode down the dusty path back to Silver Valley. "We need a new name for you... how about Rodeo?"


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