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The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 2, 2023 07:18 PM


Determined_Wolf

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┏━━━━━━⟣⋆・⟡・⋆⟢━━━━━━┓

The Fallen Spire and Rise of the Crises

┗━━━━━━⟣⋆・⟡・⋆⟢━━━━━━┛

Fifteen years after the Ice War and three weeks after the death of King Jeremy of Braisia, the new Queen’s coronation begins as per usual but ends abruptly.

As the crown falls from her head, the castle shakes from the impact of a giant pillar falling from the sky, destroying the most prominent statue of Braisia’s main goddess, Brise, in the process. The Spire managed to avoid killing anyone, but one mere look at the tower made it clear it could only have been built from the deities of this world. It was made of white steel, a precious metal that makes up the home of the deities, and is inscribed with their forgotten language in its walls. Rumors and whispers spread quickly that the Queen must have committed great atrocities in order to anger the deities. As the center of the town is closed off with a magical sphere to prevent people from wandering too close to the cracked pavilion, broken statue, and fallen Spire, no one can be certain of this, but it is rumored that someone pinned is beneath the Spire; someone who looks identical to the goddess of freedom, wind, and celebration, Brise.

It has only been a month since this incident and three major events, known as the Three Crises, to sprout throughout the kingdom: the rise of a deadly, lustful pandemic that stains the lips of its victims black and are haunted by images of the goddess Maua, a non-magic uprising after the death of a prominent noble and forty others in a building fire, and the defiling of the Centurio statue which served as a peace symbol after the Ice War which has since led to a reawakening of tensions. With any followers of Brise slowly losing their magic, tensions are higher than ever. Each one of these Crises has damaged the economy, customs, and lives of the kingdom and the Queen has had enough.

With the most prominent ball and celebration in Brisia approaching, the Queen has sent for the most powerful and knowledgeable magical scholars and deity devotees, from convicted felons with a strength in potions and war veterans with excellent sigils to orphan children with born magic and college professors with connections to deities, in order to request their help. Hoping to reveal this new group of researchers and investigators to the public, she intends to find the cause of the fall of the Spire and the rise of the Crises, whether it be someone attempting to reawaken the war, punishment for the Queen’s crimes, or an ancient titan’s mettling, the truth will be found.

Will you accept your role in uncovering it?

The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 2, 2023 07:20 PM


Determined_Wolf

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Time Of Day | Weather | Season

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The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 2, 2023 07:21 PM


Determined_Wolf

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Cal Thi Lê | 24 | Non-binary | Investigator

M: n/a

The room was encased in comforting darkness that Cal relished in through their half-opened eyes. The bed, though unfamiliar, was warm and hugged them almost as close as the shadows of the room. The far corners of the room were shrouded in disturbing darkness, but the unknown was always more pleasant than dust filled corners, cobwebs, and mouse holes. When the sun broke into their eyes, a small groan escaped their lips as they pressed closer to the stranger in their arms. Times like this made Cal wish that had minored in incantations instead of alchemy so they could just whisper ‘push’ and force the curtains to shield his eyes. Wriggling from their arms, the red-headed woman— Sadie, that’s right, Sadie— shifted away from Cal as the sun shone through the pale curtains and onto her white skin. Their bleary eyes wandered around Sadie’s room, taking in the tiny window, the empty fireplace, and small carpet on the ground of the nearly bare apartment. Sadie mentioned she was an artist the previous night, but she seemed to not take pride in or reveal any of her work if so. While Cal’s own home had more decorations and furniture, she managed to find an apartment bigger than their own. A small kitchen, a tiny table and two chairs, and a somewhat comfortable bed filled the space, but it still felt empty, allowing for the cracks and peeling walls to be all the more visible.

After a while with great hesitancy, Cal opened their eyes further to the world.

Sleepily, they sat up, taking in their surroundings once more as they ran a hand through their hair to push strands of the matted mess back out of their face. The bed telegraphed their movements with loud creaking as Cal swung their legs off the side of the bed and looked down at their clothes on the rug, wanting to grab them but too tired to do so at first. Without Sadie in their arms, a chill grazed over them as they glanced back over their shoulders both at the sleeping woman and at the frosted window that revealed the sun just peeking through the tall buildings of Blackthorn, hidden only briefly by the pillars of smoke from the factories and homes. With great effort on their behalf, Cal turned back to the clothes at their feet. Pulling on their bra and boxers and circular glasses, Cal started to slip on their pants when the bed began to creak behind them.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake—?” Cal was cut off as Sadie pressed a kiss to the base of their neck from behind, causing them to inhale a sharp breath. In the silence after that moment, Cal’s face and ears began to burn. Sadie burst into giggles, only making their redness more apparent. Cal’s only response was to huff and mutter the excuse: “I am not a morning person…”

“Aww is someone a little sleepy then?~” Sadie teased, poking at their cheek with one hand as the other snaked around Cal’s waist. “Sorry, I guess it is just so funny to me to see someone who was so in charge last night—” she practically purred the word in their ear, making them even more red— “to suddenly make a sound like that.”

“Again, not a morning person and you caught me off guard…” Cal grumbled, trying not to sink into her affection.

“Well, if you are not a morning person, why get up so early?”

“The sun was in my eyes. I also should get goin’ so I can get to class…”

“Wait, you’re a—?” Sadie pulled away from Cal instantly with wide eyes.

“Wha— No, no, I’m a professor, not a student,” Cal chuckled, causing the woman to sigh in relief as she wrapped her arms back around them and rest her head on their shoulders. “Sorryyy…” It was clear she had not remembered their conversations as Cal distinctly remembered discussing each others occupations. Did she even remember their name? It was clear nothing that they had would be real— why would it be?— but the way she pressed close made them strangely feel wanted and they seemed to slow the process of getting dressed just for her.

“So do you really have to get going then?” Sadie asked with a tiny, disappointed huff.

“Yeah, I have early classes so I don’t think I can stay for much longer,” Cal replied as they began to do their belt. Sadie suddenly grabbed their wrist, stopping Cal from continuing. As Cal looked back at her, Sadie placed her hand on the back of their head, combing it through their hair.

“Stay.” Sadie said the word less as a plea and more as an intoxicating order as she pressed against Cal. “You can stay for some breakfast, can’t you, professor?” Cal was already melting at her touch and their hair being played with, but to add her voice into that all? Cal nodded in quick submission. Deities above, they were weak to affection. “Good answer~”

Sadie pulled Cal into a kiss. Cal could not help but gently cup her face even if the action felt far too intimate and romantic to carry out. Sadie’s hand got tight on their hair as she released their wrist and smoothed her hands just under the hem. After biting their lip and causing them to groan quietly, Sadie smirked against their lips as she pulled away with slight breathlessness.

“Do you like eggs and pancakes?”

“Yeah… Yeah, sure,” Cal murmured before diving back for more.

As Cal shifted to face her, they could not help but place one hand on her waist and the other in her bright red hair. It was clear she was no demi-deity and that this bright color came from dying it, but even with it not being the right hue, it was close enough.

~~~~~

“Well, seems like you had fun with her~”

“Shut up,” Cal grumbled, fixing their glasses as a scarlet blush came to their face as they glared at their friend. Ægir threw his head back and laughed openly in front of the crowd like a goddamn madman, making Cal’s embarrassment only worse. “I hate you…”

“Awww, come on! Don’t be like that, Callie.”

It was a Wednesday morning so Blackthorn was busier than usual. Picking at their tight turtleneck, Cal made sure their bruised neck was covered while pushing through the crowd, holding his breath as to not breathe in the smell of frozen feces and factory chemicals. Cal received some glares as cold as the frost on the ground as they occasionally muttered a soft apology for stepping on someone’s toes or nearly collapsing into the person ahead of them because the person behind him was shoved forward. On days like these, it was most important to keep your head down and your hands weighted down in your pockets. Not Ægir though. Ægir would talk louder than the megaphone speakers on their wooden boxes.

“They don’t respect us!” The woman shouted into the cylindrical device with her tattered clothes and fierce eyes, a gatsby hat on her head that suppressed her dark locs.

There was a shout of agreement from the crowd.

“Do you think the two of you will meet up again?”

“Probably not… She was cute though.”

“But we deserve to be here just as much as they do!” The woman had coffee skin that anyone could see was scarred and rough as she supported herself on a wooden leg.

The crowd was erupting.

“Whaaaat? Really? You two had great chemistry, I thought!”

“Yeah, but she was just looking for a one night kinda thing.”

“Just because we could not pay our way for a fancy academy to get magic does not mean we should be treated like this! Like fucking animals!” The woman was getting very exaggerated with her hand movements now, briefly revealing a strip of bright red cloth tied to her wrist that had previously been hidden under her coat jacket and fingerless gloves.

There was an uproar.

“Maybe she would be open to things like— I don’t know— friends with benefits?”

“Absolutely not doing that. Why are we even talking about my love life when you have not gotten laid, in what, centuries?”

“Ha fucking ha. You’re really funny, Cal,” Ægir mused with heavy sarcasm.

“Well, I try to be,” Cal replied with a shrug and smug smirk before breathing hot air on their frigid hands.

“We work day in and day out for those magic fucks for ‘the betterment of Braisia.’ Well, I call bullshit!”

“Yeah!”

“This is a crime against the people!”

“Yeah!!”

“This is a vicious system that will always keep those without magic on the bottom!”

“Yeah!!!”

“We need to band together so we can put a stop to this—”

Bang!

A sole explosion of gunpowder rang out and everyone froze for a moment of silence.

There was no sound for seconds until two more shots rang out.

Within seconds, the woman had disappeared into the crowd.

The crowd began to scream.

People shoved one another to get away in a moment of pure panic, people covering their wrists for their life while everyone ran in terror from the sound. Was it the knights or factory owners? Was it the royal guard themselves? Or worse, was it the Fidelish coming to take over Braisia? With all the mania of the past month, no one except Cal knew for certain.

During the chaos, Cal was the only one to see it. In an alley stood two knights dressed all in black with pale masks. These white raven masks had cylinders on the side with air sigils in them to help them breathe and were now painted in blood as three crumpled bodies lay at their feet. Looking at the faces of the victims, it was clear from their black lips that they had been infected with the Kiss of Death. The plague had gotten so bad that these plague doctors were resorting to killing them in the day now instead of just at night.

A shiver ran down Cal’s spine.

Everything was going to shit.

“We should—”

“Get out of here?”

“Agreed.”

~~~~~

“N-Now, again, I am sorry… for being so late to class today…, but while I get my notes together…, please open your notes.”

Cal’s forehead was slick with sweat as they struggled to catch their breath after running the rest of the way to the college much less giving instructions to their students. Ægir sat on the table beside the papers with a worried expression as Cal quickly struggled through the packets to find the correct one. Once Cal found the correct packet, he chuckled in exhausted relief while adjusting their glasses. Tying back their hair into a half-up, half-down style and taking off their blazer and draping it over their chair, Cal gazed back up to the classroom.

Jeremy sat in the very far right corner of the small lecture room, his head placed on the desk with either disinterest or sleep. Savannah sat directly in the middle of everything, more focused on doodling than listening and only ever speaking in class when it came to asking for the bathroom at the worst times. Becky, sitting front left, closest to where Cal usually stood, was most likely in this class to gawk at Cal which was a disturbing fact they learned after she wrote him a poem. Travis, the student who had the best grades, paid the most attention, and the only one genuinely interested in the class, was only able to come to lectures on Friday or after class on Monday as he worked a day job to support his family like almost every kid in Blackthorn College.

College, even with Blackthorn being so cheap, was hard for most to afford, but Cal had the smallest class of any professor because of his subject: psychology. It was deemed to be taboo at the Grand Academy, the greatest and most brilliant scientific center in all of the continent of Ployavas, for looking at the soulless bodies of Ling, the goddess of life and death. If it was deemed taboo there, Cal was honestly surprised to get any students at Blackthorn.

Sighing, Cal quickly forced themself to smile for their students.

“Now, as you read last night, we will be starting our unit on trauma and how trauma affects the brain, particularly in youth,” Cal dictated as they took off their glasses and leaned on their wooden desk. “This will not be an easy topic to handle so if you are not ready to talk about it, we can talk about your options for studying and covering this unit.” Cal waited briefly for any objections or someone to speak up before nodding. Cal turned their back on their audience of three to grab a piece of white chalk. Scrawling on the blackboard, Cal continued as they put their glasses back on. “To start us off, we are going to review ‘trauma.’ What it means and how we get it.” Writing several words on the blackboard to add to the diagram of a human brain that made Savannah quietly gag. It was not particularly gruesome yet the taboo of seeing the insides of a body was still ever present it seemed. “Trauma affects your ‘neural networks,’ which, as we discussed previously, act like our trolley systems we have in Blackthorn, carrying information from one spot to another. What researchers believe is that trauma basically overworks these trolleys which are running so much due to a high stress environment or repeated high stress environments. Can anyone tell me—”

“Cal,” Ægir mumbled, shock present on his face and in his tone, “someone just entered the classroom.”

“Travis!” Cal said with a big smile on their face, not checking over their shoulder to see the boy. “I was not expecting to see you today! You can have a seat wherever.”

“Cal, that’s not—”

“No thank you, I never liked the ramblings of the mad Grand Academy graduates off the streets of Blackthorn who probably pray to deity of forbidden knowledge and insanity.”

Screeeech.

The chalk scraped against the blackboard, and everyone tensed their jaw at his comment. Of the three that were awake and present, Savannah gripped her pencil with a great ferocity but ducked her head into the paper on her desk, Becky made her chair scream with how fast she pushed back in it, causing it to grate against the floor as she looked ready to stand, and Cal forced themself to not bite their tongue off. Cal turned around to see a figure in the doorway. The man looked to be twice Cal’s age with a large scar from his lower lip up to his eye. With a brown, scratchy beard, a bulbous nose, and, strangely enough, decked out in iron armor with gold shoulder plates inscribed with a sword facing downwards with a set of raised wings behind it. This man was a royal guard of Brise.

Holy shit.

“Apologizes… I guess you looked so young I mistook you for a student?”

“Smooth Cal,” Ægir snickered.

“Oh spare me.” the man huffed, walking down the steps of the entrance down to the stage where Cal taught. The man did not look in Cal’s direction, only staring up at the black board. His face twinged in disgust as he stared at the diagram on the brain. “Damn, heretics of Ling.”

“Well, considering Ling is a kind goddess, I am sure she’d understand in the name of science,” Cal hissed under their breath. After a moment of tense silence, Cal spoke up a bit louder this time. “Can I at least have the pleasure of knowing why you are here today, sir?”

The man turned his head sharply to look at the professor, causing them to tense as they felt the man’s gray eyes on them. “Are you really Cal Thi Lê?”

Cal felt as though they should be offended with the way the man said their name but only nodded slowly.

“Yes…, I am Prof. Lê, but you can just call me Cal or Callie,” Cal replied with a bit-of-a forced warm smile as they extended a hand. The man looked them over but remained still, causing Cal to slowly retract their hand with a scowl.

“Prof. Lê, I am Quinn Harbinger of the Queen’s Royal Transporters, Division 12,” the man barked, loud enough to wake Jeremy. “By order of the Queen, I have been asked to extend an invitation to you in a request for your expertise on the Realm of Dreams and your close connection with the god, Ægir.”

“Excuse me, what??” With Jeremy clearly awake now, as evident from his outburst as he began to take in the situation, looking around for the context of the situation and finding just about as much context as everyone else but Quinn. Becky was the only one who paid Jeremy any mind and it was only to look over and share her own confused expression. It was clear to say absolutely fucking no one knew what was happening.

Cal felt dizzy just listening to the other’s monologue, slowly glancing to Ægir’s spectral form who was just as in shock as Cal was. Ægir’s tentacles shifted in skepticism and amusement while twirling around each other as his glowing, godly eyes squinted at the man before them.

“Well this was a surprising turn of events…”

“Yeah, no shit…,” Cal whispered back, placing a hand on their forehead as they leaned back into their desk. Glancing back at the students of their classroom, only Becky could speak up.

“I… what does this all mean?”

“It means… I guess chapter 7 is due whenever I get back…,” Cal murmured, still stunned as they looked over the man.

“Do you accept the Queen's request?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

Quinn’s sickening smirk was cruel enough that Cal was able to discern the answer. Nodding slowly, Quinn began to chant some long incantation for the exact coordinates of teleportation in a bizarre language. Taking one last look around the classroom, Cal had the same expression as the three students at the moment.

Within seconds, Cal was temporarily blinded by a flash of light before reappearing on a glowing blue crystal floor, carved with a sigil that was bigger than him. The room was empty except for a hanging lantern above the wooden door, but before Cal could take in any more details, they were shoved forward.

Walk.”

Cal turned and glared back at the burly man, walking towards the door all while huffing: “Alright, alright, you don’t have to shove me…” Ægir, bold as always in his spectral form (that was only visible to Cal at the moment, mind you), blew a raspberry at the man as he hovered close to Cal, keeping a ghost-like hand on their shoulder protectively.

Upon exiting the room, Cal was greeted by about fifteen soldiers in a tight room, causing Cal to tense as they observed the empty brick walls. The only decorations in the room being a ball of light magic in the center of the circular room in which there were seven chairs distributed about. The soldiers gave no mind to Cal, distant, cold armor separating them from any human contact as, unlike Quinn who seemed to have forgotten his, they wore helmets with a space for the eyes and scattered holes by the mouth. Upon walking closer to the guards that stood stiffly behind the seats, it could be seen that they were equipped with numerous weapons engraved with sigils never seen before and their breath stank of turmeric, a key ingredient of strength potions. Cal slowly looked back at Quinn.

“What the hell is this all for?”

“No more questions,” Quinn huffed.

“I think I have a right to know about what I am getting myself into,” Cal whispered, wondering what could make someone go to all these lengths just for Cal and presumably six others. “Why did you really ask me here?”

“Are you deaf?” Quinn asked, his temper and volume rising.

“No, I just want to know what is going on!”

Before Cal could get a reply, Quinn shoved Cal down into one of the elegant but wooden seats with a rough hand and pinned him down with the strength to crush Cal’s shoulder if he wanted to. Ægir was just as tense as Cal, especially when Quinn leaned down towards Cal’s ears.

“I’m going to break it down real nice and simple for you.” His breath was hot on Cal’s ear and Cal could not help but send a fiery glare at him which was replicated by Ægir. “You keep yapping and yapping like a damn dog so I am going to teach you some manners. If I say sit, you sit. If I say roll over, you roll over. If I say speak, then, and only then do you open your goddamn mouth, do got that?” Cal’s rage was boiling, but Ægir… to say he was restraining himself from murder would be an understatement as Cal could feel the pressure built in their chest from Ægir’s wrath. “I said, do you got that? Do you got that?! Nod!” This man tried to use incantation magic over Cal, but, with a mixture of Cal putting every ounce of concentration they had into resisting as well as Quinn possibly being tired from using a teleportation incantation, Cal made an effort not to nod. In a fit of frustration, Quinn grabbed Cal’s hair harshly, yanking their head up before forcing it back all while causing whiplash as he repeated this motion on Cal to get them to nod their head. “There! Was that so difficult??”

“Cal, let me at him.” Ægir’s powers were seeping into Cal’s body. With their nails and fingertips turning back, Cal felt colder and Cal knew the soldiers and Quinn also felt only the surface of the deep pressure akin to being miles below sea level that even the bravest of explorers would not dare to touch. As Cal glanced at Ægir's spectral form, his tentacles leaking a substance like black ink and lashing out like a kraken. The god’s eyes were locked on Quinn and glaring with the intent of divine punishment. “Cal, let me at him.” Cal clenched their jaw and simply looked away from the god and at the teleporter instead.

“Sorry, Quinn, I really don’t think I will catch on very quickly to your training,” Cal spoke with a cocky tone, ignoring Ægir. “But if you really want to be trainin’ a bitch, why don’t you go do something with your wife then, eh?~” Quinn’s face went bright red with anger but Cal was not done just yet. “Maybe you can get her to stop sleeping around with mutts or—”

Smack!

Cal received a harsh hit to their cheek, leaving a red mark. “That’s enough outta you,” Quinn growled like some feral animal and shoved Cal’s head away. It was instantly clear this man did not have any words to come back with. There was something about angering him that instantly made Cal so much happier. Was it a healthy way of dealing with aggressors to agitate them more? No, but it was much more funny in Cal’s opinion. Adjusting their glasses and fixing their hair, Cal could hear the man whisper to one of the guards as he left the room through a second door and causing the guard to snicker. “Damn Blackthorn scum… one of you better put a muzzle on them or something.”

“He deserved worse than some light scolding,” Ægir huffed bitterly. After a moment, he took a deep breath and Cal finally felt free to breathe again with the weight from the seas leaving him and the inkinesss of the depths retracting from his fingertips. “I don’t know how you can still stand that shit from another mortal.”

“Ehhh, I guess I have just gotten kinda used to it. Plus, I don’t think it would be great to do anything more than talk back while at the Queen’s palace, Ægir.”

The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 3, 2023 06:12 PM


Lost Memories

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Ingall "Angel" Dara Featherlight | 26 | Male | Demisexual & Panromantic | Ambi | Royal Mage | M: Queen Marcela, Anna, Open

Ingall sighed tiredly as he closed his book and placed it neatly on the corner of his desk. The whole of his room was neat. Carefully put together and organized in a very particular way.

Ingall himself was neatly put together as well. He rose early every morning, cleaned up, and dressed in simple, covering clothes. His moon and star earrings hung from his ears as usual, and his tree necklace rested against his chest.

This morning, he'd had enough time to get some of his work done. Not that he actually had much work to do. He was typically very on top of any and all work, often finishing it the same day he got it, but, in his eyes, it never hurt to get a little ahead.

Sighing softly to himself, Ingall stood and walked out of his room, stopping by the garden quickly to get some fresh air before simply heading to the throne room where he knew Queen and possibly Anna would be waiting.

He gave a swift half-bow as he entered and then looked up, addressing the room.

"Good morning, how are you?"

Akira "Kira" Casimir Toivo | 23 | Non-binary | Demi-Omnisexual & Omniromantic | Ambi | Investigator | M: Cal

Akira grumbled in annoyance at the sun peering through their window, turning over in an attempt to hide.

This did virtually nothing as the mirror on the other side of their bed simply reflected the atrocious rays directly into Akira's eyes. They hissed and sat up, rubbing their eyes harshly.

After a few minutes of sulking, Kira was actually awake enough to function and shivered, cursing the cold. Their apartment was weakly insolated and terribly heated, leaving them shivering and annoyed. Any slight chill was enough to make them believe they were about to lose all of their limbs to frostbite, so the bitter winter air was hardly kind in their eyes.

That said, it did manage to get them moving, which was more than any summer morning could achieve.

Continuing to mutter their annoyances, Akira dressed in three different layers of clothing and grabbed some toast and a banana before heading outside.

They didn't have a particular plan for this morning, as their earliest client wasn't until noon, but they figured they could never go wrong with a walk.

They walked at a steady pace through the streets of Blackthorn, doing their best to avoid bumping into people. Luckily enough for them, people tended to avoid shoving them because of their build. Still, they shot lazy grins and waves to everyone who made eye contact, earning a mixture of reactions ranging from returned smiles to annoyed glares.

Not that they cared, people could react however they wanted, but it wasn't going to change Akira's own attitude. That would be plain stupid.

Eventually, Kira stepped out of the main flow of the streets and into the less densely populated alleyways, leaning against one of the dirty walls and simply observing.

Some people were shouting, others talking to each other in lowered voices, and more still walking as quickly as possible, alone and in a hurry. Though Blackthorn wasn't necessarily the nicest place to live (far from it), Akira enjoyed it. If only for the reading that they were out of Fidelis.

Besides, it wasn't as bad here as a lot of people made it out to be. Yes, there was violence, yes, there was poverty, and yes, there was distrust lingering in the air, but Kira struggled to find how it could possibly be worse than the place they grew up.

Everything here had a purpose. There was reason, and, more, there was freedom.

That wasn't the case where Kira came from.

As Akira watched, though, a face appeared out of the crowd, walking not passed, but directly toward them. A tall, slender woman with brown hair a pale skin.

Akira shifted, standing up straighter as she walked toward them, green eyes harsh.

"Greetings. My name is Victoria Bellar, I am one of the Queens Royal Transporters. You are Akira Toivo, correct."

Kira hummed and nodded. "Yup, that's me. Whatcha need?"

The woman rolled her eyes, evidently annoyed by Akira's casual language and unworried posture. "By order of the Queen, you are requested to come forward and offer your expertise on your skills in sigil-crafting and alchemy. Do you accept?"

Akira examined her for a moment and then just grinned, shrugging. "Sure, why not? Could be plenty of fun!"

Another eye roll and then Kira's arm was grabbed and blinded by a bright flash.

They didn't take too long to recover and looked around quickly. They were met with a room with a giant sigil and a lantern above the door before being pushed forward.

The room they ended up in was mostly bare with brick walls and light magic hanging in the middle. Several guards were present, but Akira paid them no attention, focusing mostly on the other person sitting in one of the wooden chairs.

They didn't wait for instructions, simply pulling away from Victoria's grip and trotting over to sit down next to the other person.

"Hey! Name's Akira. You dragged here too?"

Kumi "Dagger" Eloi Garcia | 22 | Female | Graysexual Lesbian | Ambi | Traveler | M: Open

Kumi hated Braisia.

Not to say that it wasn't beautiful, the bustling streets of Coris were hardly ugly, and the cold didn't bother Kumi so much, but a single fact had solidified her hatred for the whole of Braisia years ago.

Akira lived here. They lived here because they left Kumi.

Still, Coris was a good place to trade, and, realistically, the likelihood of Kumi running into Akira was very low. Plus, Kumi didn't actually know where in Braisia Akira actually lived. If she had to guess, she would say Blackthorn. Unless they had somehow miraculously managed to get a decent enough job to support them in a wealthier part of the kingdom. This was doubtful. Akira was smart enough, but Kumi knew they would never be willing to put in the work for any job other than something purely physical.

Sighing to herself, Kumi tried vainly to push the memory of her former friend out of her head and leaned heavily on her trading bench, not bothering to call attention to it.

Few people actually stopped by, and, those who did, rarely bought anything. Most of Kumi's money was pickpocketed, and the things that she did sell weren't often hers to begin with. She wasn't a craftsman, but she was smart and fast, and that was more than enough to keep her alive.

"Hey, you look lively."

She looked up, finding a man standing above her. He was rather tall, Kumi estimated him at 6'1" or 6'2", and he had a sturdy build. His face was encased in a rugged beard and mustache while his actual head was clean-shaven and shiny, his eyes were bright blue and uplifted by a toothy, yellow smile. He looked wolfish and, frankly, dangerous.

Kumi wrinkled her nose and offered a half-smile. She straightened and let her right hand fall to her hip where she kept her dagger.

"You try standing behind the same bench every day and dealing with assholes who don't even want to buy." She shot back, her tone venomous as usual.

The man chuckled, seeming unfazed. "You're a bit of a firey one, aren't ya? Tell you what, girl, I'll buy somethin' of yours if ya give me a good enough deal, 'right?"

Kumi examined him a moment and hummed. "It's woman, actually, and sure. If you've got money, I'll happily hand over a few things." She flashed a full smile this time, hand never leaving her weapon. Men like these never had truly good intentions.

Wolf-man tilted his head slightly, watching Kumi with an equally calculated gaze. "I don't got a lotta money, but I got enough to buy ya a few drinks. That, plus some one-on-one time." He licked his lips and Kumi's stomach turned.

"Sorry, not interested. I only take cash payment."

The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! Of course, you want to spend time with me! Any woman would!"

Kumi raised an eyebrow, annoyance rising in her chest. "Yeah, no. Have you looked in a mirror recently? Whatever woman lied to you must have really pitied you. Besides, I'm not into men."

The man's eyes flared and he slammed a hand down on Kumi's stand. "What the fuck did you just say to me you little bitch?"

"I said," Kumi hissed, leaning forward and partially drawing her dagger. "You're an ugly bastard."

The man lunged forward, but before he could even get close, Kumi's dagger slammed down into his hand, pinning it to the table. The man cried out, sounding more like a wounded puppy than the wolf he obviously painted himself to be. Kumi snorted as she watched him squirm, keeping a firm grip on her weapon.

"You know, you should never threaten a businesswoman. Scratch that, don't threaten a woman in general. You don't often win. Now, I'm going to let you go. Be a good boy and run on home, alright?"

The man whimpered pathetically and Kumi chuckled, pulling her dagger back and watching as he immediately turned heel and ran. She grimaced, wiping the blood from her dagger.

Around her, a few people had stopped to watch, a few whispering in concern. Most kept moving, though, evidently understanding that the man had simply had it coming. However, one young girl ran forward, blonde hair bouncing as she approached excitedly.

"Hey, do you have more of those?" She questioned, pointing at Kumi's dagger.

Kumi paused, too stunned to speak for a moment, and then she simply laughed. "What, need to stab some random guy too? Yeah, I got an extra, here." She reached down and pulled another dagger from her boot, dropping it onto the table. The girl's eyes gleamed and she picked it up, grinning.

"How much?"

Kumi thought for a moment and then just shrugged. "Take it free. Every girl should have one."

The girl practically squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Thank you! It's so pretty!"

"Right? True silver too."

"I'm Layla!" The girl offered up, still examining her new weapon happily. "What's your name, miss?"

"Kumi."

"Thanks so much, Kumi! I love it!'

Kumi smiled slightly and just nodded. "Sure. Use it wisely."

Layla looked up and nodded seriously and then just turned and rushed off again. Kumi smirked. If nothing else, at least she managed to help someone out.

That said, she definitely needed to move. A bloody stand and multiple witnesses was not a good look.


Edited at October 4, 2023 12:52 PM by Lost Memories
The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 4, 2023 02:59 PM


Cereal

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Anzhelina Inessa Volkova| 23 | Female | Investigator

Mentions: Cécile (NPC) [Dir.] | Queen Marcela, Anna, and Dagger [Ind.]

Wolf was strolling through Braisia's bustling streets with her hands shoved in the pockets of her dark grey reefer coat, with her hands moving slightly as she fumbled with something hidden inside. Between her chapped lips was a cigarette, her lips moving as she took slow, steady drags of it while her crimson-colored eyes stared straight ahead. As she walked, the crowd parted ways with her, a few casting her anxious looks as they recognized her as one of the Queen's bodyguards and someone they shouldn't mess with. That didn't stop the curious gaze of the children who were staring at her like an exotic, which Wolf couldn't help but return such glares as she inspected them thoroughly. Her ogling was full of judgment as she noticed one of them having drool dribbling down from the left corner of her lip while the boy standing beside her was picking his nose to look for unsanitary treasure. Just seeing that made something in Wolf shrivel in disgust, with a part of her wanting to scold them both for their disgusting behavior.

Nonetheless, she remained quiet as she turned her attention elsewhere, her eyes now on a clothes store as she watched the customers browse inside. Wolf regarded her attire, examining the coat over her shoulders to the black button-up shirt that was a bit too big for her body with the bottom tucked neatly into her tight-fitted business pants. Finally, she gazes down at the black leather business shoes adoring her feet, with the leather worn down from overuse. A deep hum rattled in her throat as she stared at her reflection, only for her eyes to stare at the children from before, who were staring at their duplicates alongside her. It would've been adorable for her, yet the children continued their gross habits. The ghastly sight of the boy picking his nose cursed her eyes again, but this time, she openly expressed her repulsion by scrunching up her face.

"Stop that," She replied sharply to the boy, not caring who overhears, "it's a disgusting habit you shouldn't keep doing." Not to mention, it's a dangerous habit, as it'll surely lead to nosebleeds. The boy jumps a bit at her hostile tone, while the little girl appears to be on the brink of tears already, and her nose starts to dribble with snot as she initiates that obnoxious crying start-up. Wolf sighs, not wanting to deal with whiney kids, so she spins on her heel briskly, facing the two with a scolding glare. "Cry and see what happens." It sounded like a threat, but she was only bothered by the grossness of the whole thing, or maybe it was a threat and passing it off as something else. As the two grew quiet, Wolf stormed off through the crowd once more while the smoking pace of her cigarette increased to indicate irritation.

Smoke blew out her nose while her teeth lightly bit into the butt, "Children are such unhygienic creatures." Wolf grumbled, shaking her head to get rid of that image of the boy and girl. Maybe it was her former royal side talking, with the rules she was taught as a child coming back out to bring her misery. Nose picking was one of the things she wasn't supposed to do, the same with drooling as it would remind someone of a dog from what her mother told her. Wolf felt like her mother right there, the reprimanding words, the breathing gaze, and the ignorance of the child's feelings. They weren't royals, they're commoners. They aren't taught the same code as her, and she needs to understand that. Wolf somewhat felt bad for snapping at the children like that, and she wanted to return to apologize to them, but she sucked at it. If she were to atone for her insults, it would sound...fake.

Wolf turned around, powerwalking while her eyes scanned the crowd for the two children. With each failed attempt to spot the two, she felt increasing dread and internally shunned herself for her poor behavior. She was a bit hypocritical for lashing out at the boy for poor habits when she did the same. Believing she wouldn't find them again, she was about to give up and continue her patrol until she spotted them outside a bakery's window, eyeing the delicious treats inside. Wolf slowly approaches them, staring at their eyes filled with hunger and desire for the food inside, her eyes shifting to their disheveled and tattered clothing. Wolf's lips were thin, punching her inner self for only noticing the actions that bothered her while ignoring what mattered more.

With a hefty sigh, Wolf steps closer to them, awkwardly clearing her throat to get their attention. When they turned around to face her, they were on edge and afraid of looking at her, which stung a little. "Pick out any four things, two for you," her focus went to the boy, "and two for you," with her eyes drifting to the girl. "I'll buy it for you, don't worry about the price." The kids seemed to have perked up, eagerly nodding before heading inside to pick out the two treats while Wolf reluctantly followed them inside. The woman leans against the wall, watching the two scurrying around like hungry animals. As Wolf observed them longer, the less subjective she felt towards them. Now, don't get it twisted. She'll still judge others, but not these two - they're free from it. She's nice when she chooses to be.

When the children picked out the treats they wanted, Wolf purchased them and left without saying anything else. While walking away, she has a warm feeling in her usually cold heart - like a tiny fire in the dead of winter. It felt...good. She's done something good, even though she behaved poorly at first. It was a...lovely experience. It had gotten to the point where she cracked a rare smile, though it was small. "Maybe being nice to others isn't so bad after all. The feeling in my chest is peculiar yet welcoming all at once." Her darkened eyes flashed, and her tense presence had lightened up. "I should be more kinder...starting now."

"Hey, Wolfie!"

Never mind on the whole being friendly to others thing.

What she had just experienced shattered, her smiling lips distorting to an unpleasant scowl as she recognized that voice. It was one she grew to loathed with a passion, something her ears wished to become death so she wouldn't be able to hear it. The desire to be nicer had instantly died upon hearing such a blasted thing from that creature. Wolf shot her icy gaze at a red-haired woman with magnetic blue eyes and a flirtatious smile on her painted-red lips. A grin that made Wolf want to vomit, not out of disgust, but to wipe that horrendous smile off the woman's face. The boy picking his nose or the girl drooling was at the bottom of Wolf's 'Abomination List' as nothing could compare to that fiend standing in the alley, looking at her like she was an object of desire.

"Cécile De Villiers," Wolf hissed under her breath, tightly squeezing the object in her cut as her hands quivered from the building's negative feelings.

Overly amorous people disturb Wolf, but overly flirtatious people that Wolf hates immensely repulse her. If murder is legal here, she would've been killing the woman, but at last, the laws here are unjust for poor Wolf. The woman's eyes laid heavy on the other's blue ones, and the corner of the currently agitated lips twitched in enmity. The woman didn't seem phased by it, only beckoning Wolf closer with a finger, luring her prey deep into the alley to chat. As the woman turned to walk further into the dirted back street with a sway of her hips, Wolf couldn't help but ogle her for a split second before hesitantly following behind. With a cross of her muscular arms below her chest, her eyes stared holes into the back of Cécile's head, keeping her eyes away from her, ahem, ass-ets. As the two of them entered a modest-looking building, Wolf closed and locked the door behind her.

Now that they were alone, Wolf eventually spoke, "What'd you want from me? I have no further business with you." There's an edge to her words, a tone that bears no sign of friendliness, only pure hostility. Oddly, Cécile wasn't bothered or saddened by Wolf's attitude, only amused by the other woman's harsh words. With a wink of her left eye, Cécile replied light-heartedly, "You didn't say that to me four days ago, Wolfie. Not to mention," she stepped towards Wolf, growing ever closer to her, "you still followed me here. Why are you faking your feelings towards me?" She cups Wolf's right cheek with her right hand, twirling her thumb over her cheekbone with a sultry smile lingering to tease her more. Wolf frowned but didn't say anything, as Cécile was right. Why did she follow her if she supposedly hated her?

Cécile smiles wider when Wolf is quiet, which is unusual as Wolf always has counterarguments during their interactions. She tapped a finger on the taller woman's lips, leaning forward so her body pressed against Wolf's muscular body, but was careful enough not to put her entire weight on her. "Wolfie...why are you so quiet? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe," She stands on the tip of her toes, bringing her lips closer against Wolf's and tickling it with her hot breath, "you're waiting for me to take it." Her voice was low and sultry, her eyes sensually downcasted as she slowly brought her hands down Wolf's lips. She traces her jawline gingerly - wanting Wolf to feel her touch to hear her beg for more.

Cécile hands glide down even lower, about to caress her shoulders to lightly massage them, only to be stopped when Wolf firmly grasped her wrists. "Enough," She commanded Cécile, her calloused hands touching the other woman's velvety skin. "I'm here for business, not pleasure." Amusingly, she tried to sound uninterested in Cécile's advances, yet there was a bit of a tremble in her speech, the slight bit of desire steadily slipping out. Wolf tried to keep eye contact with her, yet eye motion went about in an irregular pattern. Wolf was breaking despite trying to remain emotionless and resilient, and Cécile can't wait until that wall crumbles down.

Cécile impishly grinned, moving her hands so she was holding Wolf's, their fingers interlocking together. "You say you don't want me touching you; however, you remained put and didn't push me away. Wolf," she removed her hands from Wolf's, rubbing them along her broad shoulders before gently squeezing them, "why are you lying to yourself? Tell me this," she moved even closer, her perfume of vanilla and lavender invading Wolf's nose, "do you desire my body...or my blood?" Cécile tauntingly whispered into Wolf's left ear, her arms coiling around the taller woman's neck to pull her into a light embrace.

Wolf gulped at her words and behavior, trying to keep her heart from beating even faster. Her hands twitched, aching to touch the woman's body while her mouth watered to consume her blood. Wolf's jaw clenched while her breathing grew rapid, her mind screaming at her for relief. She was fighting against her animalistic side to claim the woman for the rest of the day, with her hands hesitantly reaching over Cécile, about to caress her body. She would've fallen for the woman's charm if Cécile hadn't said such ill-mannered words into her ear.

"Am I a better lover than those three? Am I better than Queen Marcela? Superior to Anna or even Dagger?"

Wolf froze with the pupils in her eyes dilating. The strong sense of lust was wiped clean from her mind instantly like it never existed in the first place. The world around them had frozen in place and was eerily quiet - even her heartbeat seemingly stilled. Wolf remained unmoving, her arms dramatically dropping to the side as her eyes stared past the woman's shoulders, staring straight at the floor. A shadow cast over her face as her fingers leisurely closed into a fist. Wolf was in turmoil, her emotions clashing together in a mental warfare to take over. She was confused at the moment as her sense of rational thinking flew out the window into the seemingly endless abyss. Wolf's mind was lost in a maze it created, allowing only instincts to think for her. Her hands unclenched, moving upwards at a snail's pace to Cécile's shoulders.

Her grip was soft at first, keeping Cécile in place to ensure she didn't run away. Wolf's eyes were empty as she locked eyes with Cécile, her lips parting open as if she was about to speak, but only a breath of hot breath left and her grip getting firmer. "Cécile," her voice sounded different land eerily so as she decided herself of emotions, "if you ever dare," the woman's fingers dug deeper into Cécile's body, her claws piercing the surfacing of her skin, "compare yourself," the smell of Cécile's blood beckoned Wolf closer, which worked as she lowered herself to the point their noses touched, "to them ever again," Wolf tilted her head, bringing her mouth against Cécile's right ear, "I'll fucking kill you." The atmosphere and the temperature of the entire house dropped dramatically, causing goosebumps on Cécile's body.

She no longer sounded like the Wolf Cécile knew. Oh, no. The Wolf she had grown to cherish was replaced by an angry, hungry predator who could rip her throat out at any second. Cécile could only nod in response, understanding that the words she said weren't proper. She believed Wolf would let her go after apologizing, but the other woman's grip intensified. Blood trickled further from the woman's body, staining the tip of Wolf's fingers and the clothes she was wearing, yet her body was too numb to notice the pain it was going through. To Cécile, seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, while hours turned into days as her mind was in full-blown panic mode. Her stomach dropped, making her have the urge to vomit out of stress while her body quivered in despair. One would experience fight or flight in this situation, but not Cécile, as her mind was telling her not to fight nor flee, as both options would be pointless against the beast standing in front of her.

Cécile's lips separated from each other, about to verbally apologize until Wolf suddenly let go, making Cécile flinch as she thought this was the end for her. Luckily, it wasn't. Wolf regained her senses and stormed out of the building and down the alley to return to the castle. As Wolf hastened her steps, the crowd parted even quicker to allow her through, a few unlucky people catching sight of the blood staining the tips of her fingers. Wolf felt the wetness on her fingers, hearing its whispering urges to lick them clean. She ignored it all, keeping her eyes forward and lips shut tight to keep the remaining humanity left in control. Now wasn't the time to act so...monstrous.

WIP


Edited at October 4, 2023 07:28 PM by Cereal
The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 4, 2023 04:35 PM


Overthink101

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Posts: 12299
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Gunnar ‘Khorne’ Tyrgrim Cattell (Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch) | 25 | Male | Investigator | Mentions; Horkos/Simon, Doctor(Ind), Cal(Ind), Akira(Ind).

Khorne’s Outfit (by the end of the post); https://postimg.cc/gallery/RJRnBWJ

Simon’s Outfit; https://postimg.cc/gallery/pttt7mb

*~*~*~*

Pulling away and shifting from the quickly crumbling opponent, it turned in a swift motion to raise the gladius that had dealt the final blow. Straightening as it did so, the roar of the crowd was familiar, and it listened sharply as the announcer began the same speech as always. It could probably recite the words by memory now. But listening was necessary everywhere.

--

And the winner by death is our bloodstained steel, Khorne! Go on and collect whatever’s been won in bets, dear audience! The next fight will start as soon as the corpse is out of the ring! With that said, enjoy your stay at the arena everyone!

--

And after another second of holding one of its gladii up, allowing the audience to believe it to be basking in the glory, its hand dropped and it turned on its heel. Walking away from the body and back to the armory was uneventful, a routine that numbed whatever it had playing pretend as a mind. Stepping through the threshold, it didn’t spare a glance at the other weapons. It had its own place to stay, its own glorified glass case. A glass case, even a fake acting as one, was better than being left to hang on the wall.

--

Still, as it walked through the armory, it twisted the gladii so both were at either of its sides. Despite the ability to summon weaponry, it still preferred to use the smithed steel. Before it reached the door, it did a once over for damages and came back with the knowledge that it was no worse than it usually was after a battle. Which meant it’d be fine. So, it pushed through the door and immediately saw Horkos, who had obviously been waiting while it was still fighting, both hands clasped behind his back instead of the usual left one. Shifting its vision away to avoid any potential breakage, it stayed where it was.

--

The Boss requires its presence, Khorne.” The words were slow, almost strained. It knew Horkos well enough to know why. It also knew not to say anything and simply follow as the ginger began to walk away.

--

So it followed, staying just far enough behind him that it wouldn’t attack him in some sort of brutish manner and just close enough that it wouldn’t try to run away. It had never done either, but it had stopped plenty of attempts made by things less polished than itself. Still, it wouldn’t risk breaking its perfect streak. If the wielders and forgers believed that there was cause for such precautions, it would listen. Besides, it knew the way around the halls of the arena. It could traverse the area with its vision broken. More than that, it especially knew the way to a few specific locations within the halls. The main wielder’s office included, of course. It hadn’t left the walls of the arena for quite some time, anyways, so it had plenty of opportunities to memorize the different routes. Regardless, it continued to follow behind Horkos, keeping its sight on the floors and using the edges of its vision to track the progress through the halls.

--

Getting to the door didn’t take long, and it stopped as soon as the edge of its sight told it that Horkos had stopped too. Without a word spoken, a knock sounded in the air and it stood in wait with Horkos. Not that the wait was long for the door to open. In fact, saying that the wait was shorter than usual was something it’d be willing to do. If it was given permission and told to say that, of course. It understood how unlikely that was though, so it didn’t dwell on the pseudo-thought. Especially since as soon as the door opened, it was stepping through the threshold right behind Horkos.

--

As soon as it was fully in the room and before the door had fully closed, it dropped a knee to put itself into a half-kneel position. The air wasn’t too tense or too light, so it didn’t waste time on whether the other knee needed to go down or not. It stayed where it was in the half-kneel, feeling the iron of the cuffs digging into its wrists momentarily from the swift motion. Usually, it could forget about the iron wrapped around its wrists. After the wielders tired of having to put the sheathes on every time it broke, the decision to simply keep the cuffs on it had been made. It had adjusted to the metal eventually.

--

Keeping its head towards the ground in its half-kneel, it still managed to notice that the main forger was in the room. Which made it pinch through the atmosphere again, trying to discern if a full kneel was necessary. But the air wasn’t too tense and thick, nor was the air too light and casual for the kneel to be necessary. So it stuck to the ground where it was and listened as speaking began.

--

I’d rather keep this short, so I’ll go over this once. Our, hm, friend here is from Braisia. They’ve been tasked with bringing you and Khorne to Braisia as ordered by their Queen. As such, there are some temporary rules being put into place.” The tone shift in the main wielder’s voice was an obvious one, the shift in the air even more so, it dropped its other knee into a full kneel as the air became thick with tension. It understood the cues it was meant to follow.

--

It knew even better than that to continue listening though, as the main wielder continued to speak. “Temporary rule number one, you will be in charge of it until it returns, Horkos. This will overturn every other temporary rule put into place. If it needs any polishing or sharpening or whatever else, that’s up to you to accomplish, Horkos. Do you understand?

--

Somewhere behind it, it knew Horkos was nodding. Knew that as well as it knew Horkos. The main wielder wasted no time continuing anyways. “Temporary rule number two, in public you are to use the names we have no ties to. Are we clear on that, Simon? Gunnar?

--

It wasted no time hesitating with its curt, jerky nod. It threw the name around for a second. Gunnar. The name its wielders had given it for outside the arena, where it hadn’t been for… Longer than it could keep track of. Not that, that particularly mattered.

--

Good. Temporary rule number three, unless an order by Horkos, it may speak when others than just Horkos are present. When it speaks, it is to speak in the first person and not make any actual decisions. I’d rather not hear or see the consequences of a tool making decisions that only people are fit to make. If it’s asked to do so, for whatever reason, it is to refer to Horkos. Unless the rule directly challenges one of the temporary ones, the regular ones are still in place as well. Every other rule is more for our friend here, so instead of staying, do prepare to leave. Horkos, take these and go to your room with Khorne. I’ll send our friend over there once the rest is spoken over with them.

--

There was the sound of footsteps and of rustling, and it couldn’t tell if fabric was being passed or simply something wrapped within fabric. Or if the sound was both. The answer didn’t exactly matter anyways. The newest rule it’d been given was still trying to find somewhere to stick, after all, which was definitely more important. Still, it would listen. There was no point in questioning the main wielder, not when he knew infinitely more than it did. More than it ever would.

--

The sound of the door opening came soon after, it didn’t dare move yet. The main wielder spoke a mere second later, tone matching the single word spoken. “Dismissed.

--

It didn’t need to be told twice, it stood as quickly, in as little shifting necessary, and left immediately after Horkos. The door closed behind it and the following through the halls resumed in silence. It had learned to appreciate the quiet, the break from the screaming crowds. The sensation of being watched never really left, but the noise did, and that was usually enough… That was always enough. That was enough now. Things don’t have complaints to make.

--

The halls would still be quiet even if it did. It would still feel eyes when it shouldn’t even if it did. Complaining didn’t do anything except show that it had decided it was allowed to. Well, that and that it didn’t have a sense of gratitude like it should. Like it does. So, it doesn’t have any complaints. Besides, every step was familiar, every shallow breath was precise to not cause any issues, every shift or straightening or tensing was subtle enough to not be noticed, and every rule was committed to memory. It wouldn’t risk that for pointless complaints that it didn’t really have.

--

When Horkos stopped, it stopped behind him and watched in silent observation as the door was opened. The ginger stepped into the room, and it followed, stopping right beside the doorway as Horkos closed the door before turning towards it.

--

Hands.” The tone was just as sharp, just as blank, just as slow as Horkos almost always seemed to be. Still, it offered its hands up before he’d even finished speaking, and it barely tensed as the metal shifted to dig into its wrist as Horkos applied pressure to the cuffs. A moment later though, and the iron was gone and the pressure went to the other cuff. It stayed still, and after a second, the metal pressing against its wrist there was gone too. It didn’t look down but it could assume it knew why the pressure was gone, though it wasn’t too sure as to why Horkos had removed the cuffs.

--

It didn’t have to know why anyways, since something was pushed into its hands and Horkos was speaking, with that same slow, strained voice. “Put those on.

--

With a nod as it looked down to its hands, it saw gloves and began to put the fingerless leather on. Cold metal touched its skin in some places, and it could see a triangular piece set atop of the glove, kept in place by leather straps on the glove that were also held in place instead by the metal that it felt on its skin. The triangle was probably meant to mimic the cuffs. That was fine. It couldn’t change anything, so there was no point in this not being fine.

--

As soon as the gloves were on, it was being handed something else. Something hooded with a drape and neckpiece with lace to tie. Looking over the piece further as it went about putting the item on, the neck shifted to a shoulder and back too, with a strap at the shoulder to keep secure. The drape ended up over its shoulder, and while tying the lace wasn’t difficult… It also couldn’t stop the tension as the top edge near the back sat slightly under the arena’s mark. Still, it went through tying the laces and secured the shoulder strap. It didn’t bother with the hood, though the itch in its fingers made that harder than the ordeal should’ve been. It stilled the digits regardless, and waited to know what else was needed.

--

What ended up happening instead was a knock resounding on the door. It watched intently as Horkos opened the door, to reveal someone dressed in attire unusual for the arena. The friend from Braisia? It assumed so. They almost seemed nervous, tension lining their shoulders and mouth pressed in a thin line. In their hands was a greatsword in a sheathe, the recognizable mark of the arena on the hilt of the sword.

--

Their voice was firm if nothing else. “As you both heard, I’m supposed to take you to Braisia. My name is Aylan and I’m one of the Queen’s Royal Transporters.

--

There was a pause, and then the sheathed greatsword was extended towards it. It took the sword without complaint, shifting to fit the weapon and sheathe onto its belt that held its gladii. As it did so, Aylan continued, gesturing to the sword slightly. “The, uhm, the Doctor..? He told me to give that to you as well. That being said though, if you both are ready then we can leave.

--

Horkos was easily in his element here now, it could see the blank look slip into a smile as he spoke, not nearly as slow as before. “Pleasure to meet you, truly.” There was a pause, and then, somewhat slower. “Khorne and I are ready, yes.

--

Aylan visibly brightened, as if they couldn’t wait to leave. It didn’t hold the same sentiment, though it didn’t need to, since that changed nothing anyways. Regardless, a hand grabbed its arm and another grabbed one of Horkos’. A few seconds later, with a confident chant it didn’t try to make out, a blinding light flashed.

--

Just as quickly, it could see that the floor had changed. Instead of the cracked stone of the arena, the ground was a glowing blue with a large sigil carved in. Quickly, it planted its feet to avoid stumbling from the spell. It saw out of the edge of its vision as Horkos- Simon? It was supposed to call him Simon now. As Simon staggered slightly from the teleportation before straightening quickly.

--

There was a door with a lantern hanging overhead, and with the rest of the room being empty, it was probably meant to go through that door. Still, it watched as Simon turned towards Aylan before the air shifted, as if something was coming towards it and was pushing the air. It took a step forward towards the door, narrowly missing the hand that would have shoved it that way instead. Simon, from the slightly turned position had probably managed to see the hand, since he hadn’t seemed to actually be pushed either.

--

The door was pushed open by Aylan, and it took the scene in as it stepped in after Simon. There were guards, with helmets and armor and weapons. The air was thick, and it ignored the itch in its knees as it continued walking. There were seven wooden chairs in the room too, with two already occupied.

--

Go ahead and sit down in the chairs.” It paused just long enough to hear what Aylan said, and then continued forwards into the room right behind Simon.

The Fallen Spire and Rise of The Crises | Open!October 4, 2023 05:42 PM


Spellbound

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Hávarðr Aðalsteinn Ellingboe
Investigator | Pansexual + Polyamorous | 23 | Mentions: The Other Investigators (ind.), Calvin Ti Lê

The sound of a standing ovation.

That's what could be heard throughout the theater. Hávarðr was blinded by the beaming lights that were placed on him - an elegant smile on his face as he gave a half-bow to the audience, in thanks for their applause. The whistles and cheers kept going, and he could see that the whole audience were on their feet, he had sold out another theater and gained another standing ovation. He watched as showers of petals were thrown from the golden balconies and grand bouquets with precious ribbons were thrown on stage by those that were his fans. He gave another bow towards the audience and then the curtain slowly closed before him. The once bright lights that enveloped him were now replaced by cool shadows of the velvet curtain. And the forced smile he had on his face has melted - and he rubbed his jaw. His jaw hurt from all that smiling and he felt his throat growing sore from that singing. He gave a soft sigh and looked at the flowers on the stage and knelt down and picked up a single rose.

It was tied with a pink ribbon - the thorns had carefully been removed and it was a beautiful blossom. He placed the rose to his nose and softly inhaled its scent, the soft crimson petals tickling his nose. He didn't hear his assistant approach and was taken out of his trance by a soft clearing of the throat.

"Young Lord Ellingboe, your schedule." The man professionally stated, and held out a laminated and bound booklet. And Hávarðr stood up and took the booklet, and began walking behind stage. The muttering of personal could be heard as they scurried around to prepare the stage for the next event.

Hávarðr looked bored as he perused the pages of his schedule. It seems he had weeks, upon weeks of showings - and no personal time to himself. He gave an aggravated groan as he noticed that he was given only two days off out of all the shows. "What in the hell is this?" He angrily demanded, turning to face his assistant with a scowl on his face - " does Mr. Lexington think that I'm his dog? You tell him that I demand an immediate and sensible revision of this schedule, unless he wants to find a new talent to sponsor. I am a college student and I can not work under those conditions - hell, even if I wasn't, that's still overkill and with little pay out." He said with a scoff and then he looked again closer, " and he thinks he'll take fifty percent of my show earnings, he must've lost his damn mind. I'm no prima donna but I can sure as hell throw a good hissy fit when needed. Because it seems like he needs to be reminded of his place." He muttered under his breath and shoved the booklet at his assistant who meekly nodded.

"I need a drink." He muttered to himself as then began to speak an incantation, his voice soft and melodic and he took a deep breath before finishing his spell. And soon he was outside his residence, and he got his keys and opened the door to his home. And he sighed, he was tired. That early show had drained him, all he could think about now was getting in bed and drinking some tea to make sure his voice was alright for his next performance. As he walked in his house he noticed a couple things - an open bottle of his 1989 Vintage Pétrus wine, poured into three glasses and one was stained with lipstick.

He blinked slowly at that, and then he noticed that the pillows on his sofa were disturbed, and he was beginning to figure out what was going on. And he was not happy - and his speed increased as he then noticed the scattered clothing leading to his bedroom. And then he could hear the feminine giggles of an unknown woman behind the closed door - and the unholy sounds of what was going on behind their. He grit his teeth in anger and practically flung the door open. The shouts of protest of the unknown parties could be heard - the woman, a ginger, quickly tried to cover herself with the sheets and he couldn't tell the gender of the other person - but they too had meekly covered themselves. And they looked at the sun-kissed male in the bed - who didn't look at all ashamed of himself, his dark hair splayed around him and his lewd form taunting him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you home until later, darling." His supposed boyfriend has said smoothly, as he rose from the bed - not caring to cover himself.

"You have a boyfriend? " the woman practically shrieked in horror, her curly hair bouncing as she whipped her head to look at the male in disgust.

"That's pretty harsh man. I only came because I assumed you were single and looking for a good time. If I had known you had a partner, I wouldn't have wanted any part of this. And then the fact he's very hot, like what the hell." The second person had said, in a much softer and lower voice but it still held contempt and displeasure.

"Come now, we had a good time. My love is fine with this, aren't you Hávarðr?" He said, those hazel eyes piecing into his, but he wasn't having it.

" I am? " he said incredulously, and snapping his attention to the two in the bed, " the two you need to get out of my house before I change my mind - and I mean quickly." He said his voice low and irritated, and he watched with satisfaction as they scurried to find their clothing and put it on and leave. They both had mumbled apologies as he followed them to the door and watched them leave. After the left, he closed the door and locked it behind them.

He then went back to his bedroom where his boyfriend had put on some pants and still remained shirtless. There was a smug look on his face. And the male had the gall to pull Hávarðr by the waist, and closer to him - and then kiss his neck in which Hávarðr immediately pushed away, but the grip on his waist was firm.

"You're so cute when you're jealous." The male had crooned which earned a scoff of disbelief from Hávarðr.

"Jealous. Me, jealous? Of what? You being a man whore? Being an absolute jackass that doesn't care about his feelings but his own?" He was furious and he didn't care, if he felt the warmth of fire coursing through his veins, begging to be released through his platinum blonde hair. "It must be because you're so bad in be that you chose to sleep with those of yo-"

Smack

He felt the hand come across his cheek and his face had been moved by the sheer force of it. This bastard had hit him. Oh, his father and aunt wouldn't be happy with that.

"Now, I'm gonna let what you said slide, because you look so pretty right now. Maybe, if I got a kiss we could patch things up, hmm." His boyfriend had said as he moved his chin forcing Hávarðr to look at him.

Hávarðr gave a low chuckle. Let it slide? Oh, the poor fool didn't know what was coming to him. And he put on his sweetest smile, "I look pretty? And to think, I could've been yours this morning - but you were with those other people. You're gonna have to leave my house because I'm mad at you." And he gave his brattiest huff, and pushed himself out of the male's arms and turned away as he folded his. Come on fall for the bait.

"Aw, you're mad. If it's any consolation - you're the only one in my heart." His boyfriend cooed as he wrapped his arm around the waist of Hávarðr and placed kisses in the crook of his neck. The male only pushed away his head - not caring if he was rough before gently cradling his face.

" Maybe I can give you a little, farewell kiss. " he said his voice a low and sultry tone, as he rubbed his finger against his betrayer's lips - and he could feel the man shiver at his touch, his eyes were only focused on him. He had him hook, line, and sinker.

And he slowly leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the lips - and then as he thought of what had been done to him - his anger began to fester and burn within him, so much so his kiss became searing and firm. Not one of love or passion, but one of anger and fire. He had realized he had pushed the male down and was practically straddling him in the kiss until it was over. And he could see a searing affect left by the kiss as he saw the little plumes of smoke. He gave a small hum as he looked at the unconscious body. Great, he has deal with a body now. But that's when he was interrupted by a knock at his door. Shit.

He scrambled to his closet and grabbed his floor length white fox fur coat. It matched the white-ish cream dress he wore with a sweetheart neckline and the diamond earrings and necklace set. He did one more check in the mirror to make sure his lipstick hadn't smudged before going to check his door. And he opened the door, a charming smile plastered against his face - "Yes, how may I help you?" He said sweetly, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he did so.

" Adrien Cooper, Of The Queen's Transportation Division. You are Hávarðr Ellingboe, correct? " the man said, their was a sense of awe in his voice as he spoke.

"Uh, yes that is me. What does the Queen need with me." He asked, genuinely confused by what was going on.

" By order of the Queen, you have been chosen for your connection to the God, Akhmet and your knowledge of incantations to be of service of the Queen."

" Oh, alright. It's not like I have a choice anyway, do I," he said with a slight huff.

But he didn't get an answer - only the male beginning to chant and incantation and before he could respond, he had been teleported to a new location. And he felt dizzy, and he had stumbled backwards - and less than gracefully into the next room, and the brutish shoving didn't help. He had been out of it that he didn't realize he had fallen into the lap of an unsuspecting person. He didn't care at that moment because he was royally pissed at this incompetent guard. He could feel the warmth of his power flowing through his veins, and right now his hair was beginning to spark in agitation - as were his freckles glowing slightly at the unconscious use of power from the male. He hadn't realized he had placed his free hand on the thigh of the person's lap he was sitting in, and his other was pointed accusingly at the incompetent transporter.

" You bastard, " he practically hissed, " if you wanted to know if I was interested, you could've just asked. And not have some cheap parlor tricks - stumbling and catching someone is so cliche. " he said with a haughty scoff, " and besides," he says with a shit eating smirk as he looked the male up and down, " you're cute, but I'm not into short guys, love. You have to be a certain height to ride this ride, and I'm sorry to say - you just aren't my type, precious. So sorry to disappoint but that's just how it is." He said with a simple shrug, and he had to fight back the urge to giggle at the poor guy's embarrassed blush.

"Besides, how old are you anyways." He said, genuinely curious. At that the boy turned a brighter red and mumbled something under his breath. He gave an unimpressed raised brow saying, " I can't hear you, you're mumbling."

" I'm nineteen." The boy said embarrassed, and the young star had to do a double take. And he let the silence marinate for a second before letting out a coy giggle.

"Oh, you're cuttte." He said sweetly, " baby, you can't even buy me a drink - let alone, possibly afford my tastes." He gave a soft hum and tilt of his head as he noticed a fellow guard who seemed to be huffing in annoyance - and he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face. It seemed his Aunt had influenced him.

"Besides, if you're so focused on one person - you lose sight of the other chances you are missing out on. " he said with honesty as he gave a pointed look to the other guard that was now lightly blushing.

WIP


Edited at October 5, 2023 10:33 AM by Spellbound

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