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[B Love Reincarnated] - band mates
"I- yes, Lestat these are some of my bandmates. This is Aspen, our keyboardist," sh gestured to the deathrocker next to her, and the only other woman in the band at least. She had a big grin, giving him a little twinkling motion of her fingers to Lestat. Very drunk. "Nils Jorgmandsson, lead guitar," A brunette, hair longer than any of the ladies, sporting a goatee. He was a large man with a sleeveless shirt and leather studded bracers. He gave a little wave with a thick hand. "Anders Liedorf, our bassist." Another man, black haired, short, with mismatched eye contacts, a clean, white painted face with dark makeup and high, arched eyebrows that looked somewhere between drawn on and expertly plucked. He smiled, the rings in his lip twinkling in the bar lights. Slender, this one, and petite in a sheer, black button up mesh shirt and skinny, shiny pants.
"Our drummer, Rye, is next to his friend he made, Asher," A bald human- the drummer- that toasted the newcomer with his beer, no shirt, only a collar and a little leather vest with patches all over it, and Asher, one of the vampires, androgynous, and simply nodding their head, mute to Lestat and eyeing him.
"And this is Oliver," she gestured with her glass in front of her to the blond vampire she had been talking with, who nodded also to Lestat.
[B What's In the Woods]
The doctor blinked, surprised by the woman turning the invitation back on him. Initially his head tipped, blinking. Beyond that, he was shocked at the invitation to dinner at all. Nathaniel wasn't often someone who got invited places, any longer, not since he separated from the Hackett family. It had given him quite the hit on his reputation after all of that.
She wasn't peculiar to him, with the people he had grown up with. It occurred to him that Anna, Matthew, Winifred and all of them. It made him ache to think about, and the man dropped his eyes, bewildered at the strength of it.
[B Be Our Guest]
[right [pic https://i.imgur.com/vMd5Rj5.jpg?1]] [font "Times" [size16 She scrutinized him, and he simply looked on, waiting to see if she would challenge him. He expected it.
Surprisingly, however, she did not. Lady Phelorna relented, if tartly, and turned to lead him where he wished. He found it interesting that she made deep overtures about his namelessness, his anonymity, his near facelessness. Yet she did not once ask him for it. It was a strange disparity. She insisted, used words like welcome and hospitality. It was peculiar, though he was glad that Gargoyle was inside. She would eat, and rest.
Phelorna brought him to the room, and stood aside to present it. The creature entered in, and gave distance between them, looking about. There, he bent and let the cat down, who immediately streaked to find a safe place and disappeared. He knew where she was, able to feel her, and allowed her final reprise from being trapped against him. She needed to adjust and feel safe.
He directed his attention where Lady Abalot drew it then, acknowledging the pull rope, and her directions to Misha. The creature stood still, at a distance from the two women, which emboldened Misha to draw forward and place the meal for the cat on the vanity.
"[B I thank you,]" he rasped, nodding to Phelorna, and to Misha. "[B Goodnight.]"
However, the issue of the morning, as the woman had mentioned, drew his attention again as she departed... his eyes followed the housekeeper as she moved. His senses followed, moving from the room, and into the hallway with her.
Back in the room, his hearing perked at another healthy, soothing roll of thunder and the coming morning was brought back to his attention. His hand flickered out, and the drapes were pulled closed. His body shifted, taking the bowl from the vanity and placed it over by the armoire, where Gargoyle had taken refuge beneath, so she could reach it.
His sight was still with Misha, allowing his presence to begin to fill the hall she moved down, slowing to a stop. They both listened to the house, hearing Lady Phelorna move to her own chambers and settle down in them.
Misha stood, her senses filling, and the creature entered her mind more fully, bringing a shiver. It felt like his hands slipped over hers, stopping her gently, touch cool like a breeze, guiding her. Her mind unfocused, opening like inner eyes; mortal, flexible, alive. Awaiting.
The creature's fingers moved, curling in a beckon. Misha felt a negative space inside of her, almost like a hunger, an instinct. It drew her back toward the guest room, back towards the promise of the warmth and light of the fire, lit in the guest room that he created with a little snap of his fingers.
In the dark, Misha turned. Her feet moved, quick, light on the pads of her feet, back toward the room, to those doors. There the woman hesitated.
Should she try the handle? Knock? Her fingers curled, eyes squinting, trying to think. She didn't want to disturb...
The door opened for her, and Misha's eyes refocused. She looked inside. The fire lit the bed, and its pale dressings. The guest stood at a distance, allowing her space, and opened his hand to her, gesturing her in with a quiet invitation and a smooth, cultured tone.
She stepped inside, the door closing softly, quelling the strip of light that flickered into the darkened hallway, and the house was silent again, falling back into slumber.
After the act, after the rises of pain, the fear that would puncture through the membrane of her awareness under his control, Misha's eyes refocused, partly, and she found his hand again. His fingers were human, skin that strange alabaster that told her was his. They were less... Less. Familiar. And in his hand was a stone, looking oiled, smooth, and with a hole through it. He threaded a cord, black, leather, woven, through the natural hole, as he had informed her.
"[+gold Keep this with you,]" he said, offering it to her. She accepted it into her hand, warmed by his. "[+gold Wear it until it no longer suits you.]"
Misha nodded, clasping the necklace about her throat and placing it against her skin, underneath her clothes. The rest of the night disappeared. Misha awoke the next day at the proper time she was used to, in her bed, with a pounding headache, and sore muscles along her shoulders and neck, causing it. She had work. Despite her drained exhaustion, she got herself up, dutiful, and went to work.
The door to the room was closed, and the interior dark, silent.
[B Behind the Mask]
•describe yourself cactus, so prickly and small you can’t actually poke him and figure out if he’s real or not. “Oh, god, it’s hard enough taking care of myself.”
• that is very specific, but you’re right
[B Another Day]
Reilain's brows arched high, his head pulling back as he let her talk before they pulled down again. "[+red After your conduct in there,]" he said, voice slow, unmistakable. He would not be repeating himself. "[+red How in the blessed earth would I ever think to trust you, even if you're somehow being genuine with this turnaround. Even then, I don't believe I give an end, because you've been nothing but rude.]"
"[+red Then why don't you return to your peace and leave well enough alone.]"
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"[B Come here,]" he murmured, drawing her towards the glow, hovering so [i near] and such an unnatural green. It was bright, pulsing, [i alive]. She resisted. He turned back to her drawing her closer. "[B Touch it now, it'll help me weave the magic properly...]"
She resisted him, but his strength was winning. It wasn't a hard hold, but he was winning. She was soft. "[B I need you to do this, like a key for a lock, Alenia.]"
When she did, it felt like nothing, where she expected a heat. It wasn't heat, it was energy. Pure energy that thrummed through her limb and tugged at her magic as if it had fingers. It smelled, or felt, like Alvér's magic, and something else.
Suddenly everything snapped back into focus and it was as if she was breathing the cool night air normally again. Alvér was looking at her, studying her face when her eyes found him, face illuminated by the dim, unassuming stone lantern that he had her hand on.
He released her hand and wrist, letting go of her as it seemed she was indeed steady. The sounds of the night were back. The crickets, the darkness, the birds... it smelled of summer and hot, dry grasses tinged with wet, green, alive plants in the shade. Lush. Strange.
[right [pic https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3b/7d/b9/3b7db9c9a43102431f4e12268eb3adc1.jpg]] [font "Times" [size15 Mavis listened intently, hesitating a bit when the 'solution' was only to signal when he was managing to come by. Her thoughts went to like if there could be a snooze button or a do not disturb she could add. Would she have enough time to hide if she were showering or dressing? And.. why precisely were those her first thoughts when she was troubleshooting this setup?
Outwardly Mavis' face flushed a little and her eyes dropped, feeling a bit too flustered to ask about that right this second.
Mavis' gaze drifted over the floor as she thought about that... how to explain this to mom. "[B Dad might listen... or aunt Elva.]"
She looked back to him. "[B Can we have lunch soon? I don't- we can go to the cafe down on main street, if that's okay.]"
Nathan edged out of the study and closed the door behind him, taking his time to make it quiet.
He stood there, staring into the emptiness of the house's entrance hall, at the carpeting.
"[i I have a vampire in my home,]" he murmured to himself, glancing around as if he would be overheard. "[i A vampire I scraped off of the street for some dubious purpose.]"
"[i What am I going to do with it? Him?]"
The next morning, Liya would awaken to find a large, off-white morning shirt and a pair of pants. Too tall for the thin vampire, but able to be cuffed, and with a set of suspenders that can be adjusted for the height of the preternatural invalid.
[B Another Horrible Situation]
With the bird in her ear, Winnie had to snatch at the creature's face. "[B Nat- stop. Quiet now,]" she instructed it, pinching its beak. It fluttered a bit in potest, and then grew still, one bright, blue eye on the man before it.
The being behind Winifred, standing stolidly as if it had tangible mass in the center of the gathering of constables- at a distance because of the raven, but encircling her a bit nonetheless- filled the space. She shivered a bit as Decay's hands laid on her shoulders/ To Eugene, the haunt behind the woman's edges flared over and around her possessively. Long fingers curled over her arms. The raven was ruffled again, calling out and shifting on her shoulder.
Winifred felt the beginnings of a bit of a tired smile at that, as Eugene slid into very employment-oriented listings of his skills. It was... charming, in its way. He was, in his way. Ah, such a shame. Something odd about him was making her smile a bit.
[i Alright, alright, that's enough,] one constable said, advancing toward Eugene.
Winifred put a hand out, stopping one from advancing on him. "[B No, give him some credit. He's a man begging for his life, and he's actually being quite elegant about it compared to others I've seen.]" Winnie nodded to the distraught man before her, something about his tears giving her something. And Cay behind her gave a sort of hollow, echoing rumble of approval.
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[font "Times" [size15 He didn't respond, noticing how Father Merlot drew away from him. He let him, knowing it was from one of innumerable reasons for the priest to. It brought him flashes of the look on his face when he spotted his bag, the looks he gave him in the forest. He kept his hands to himself when the man separated them.
"[#00CCFF I'll be able to keep up better if I don't have to get called back here to respond to a report that you aren't taking care of yourself,]" the doctor said, holding eye contact. "[#00CCFF You look exhausted, I can tell you are.]"
He kept his voice low, between them alone. "[#00CCFF I need your help with this, I can't have you joining the sick for sheer exhaustion, because that leaves you open to infection- both spiritually and physically.]" The doctor swallowed, glancing away again. "[#00CCFF I would know. It happened to me.]"
The man swallowed, his eyes moving away. His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper. "[#00CCFF I- avoid the church, generally.]" His eyes avoided the man before him for a time.
"[#00CCFF I remember a disturbance,]" Nathan said, finally bringing his eyes back to Christopher. "[#00CCFF A boy, who had rows with the prior priest and with Sister Nancy, on occasion. There has been no news, and I haven't seen him since then.]" He offered a bit of a shrug, helpless beyond that.
♥ check in on, and ask Sister Nancy about what she wanted to say earlier about Father Thymeus
[B Tweedy Magic]
The way to Liseth Camberg's house wended in a general direction towards the Fisherman's Village. It was a thick cluster of homes frothing with plantlife and gardens and trees and voices and wood elves, dotted with inlets of water, bridges and wooden walkways over the fragrant, fresh seawater. Trees were still in the streets- laden with unlit or flickering candles, and lamps on the corners of different glass and substance throwing light across the reaching shadows. The canals were clustered with boats, and the buildings bursting with light and sound and activity. And the static of magic was thick in the air, energizing, as they walked past charms and sigils and little offerings on streetside or central shrines to this or that entity or spirit.
Business owners, fishers and denizens all knew where the witchery woman lived and would point them in the direction they needed to go.
The way to her house started taking them deeper into that wooded area. Where the rest of the village was small, bare and clustered, the houses grew apart again, in between sprawling, elderly oaks whose canopies spread shade over the weedy earth. Their branches were laden with hanging mosses, and flickering lanterns or bare candles were hovering with insects. Singular huts and old, peeling homes earning a grandeur in their weathered, steady walls. Light seeped from behind their shutters along with voices, laughter, and language. Elven, with a distinct accent, cobbled together with Common wafted in the spiced air. It smelt of incense and smoke and food wafting, thick in the evening air about them. Crickets and frogs were loud in the shadows.
And sat in what looked like the back of a low, once gated yard sat a house. The spreading porch in front of the home was dark, its back to the late evening light, but illuminated by the glass bottles in the trees, flickering, and the clusters of candles on the railing, in an empty bird cage suspended in the corner of the porch. And on a low, cushioned couch lounged a woman in a dress.
Her hair was thick with braiding, woven feathers, charms and beads. Her face was that heart shape, with the high, full cheekbones, and broad, smooth nose that spoke of her wood elf heritage even as the tips of her ears did- glimmering with rings and little, rough cut jewels. She was smoking a pipe, sweet curls of scent chasing the clean air around. She smiled- some of her teeth capped with iron or gold.
"[+maroon Well, well, what brings a trio to the door of the mother of the wood elves?]" she asked, her words laced with the curling, deep lilt of her accent, edged just so by her smoking habit.
[B Ah, There He Is]
The creature's face, for what Nova could see, in amusement curled what 'flesh' was still around the mouth and teeth into something of a smile. It was uncertain if it was flesh, or bone with how it seemed to be the same color and texture as the tissue elsewhere.
A low chuckle came from the creature, shifting back a bit with hands folding in front of it.
"[B How mercenary of you,]" it said,
[B Shadow Phantom Cometh]
The woman looked at this Kade Jensen for a long moment, seeming to consider something. Informative was a word that meant much, and her gaze was measured.
"[B Indeed,]" she said, inclining her head towards the smaller woman. With that she rose, leaving her sandwich tupperware with the stranger and departed the cafe with a glance at the hostess. With that, she crossed the quiet little town's street and then disappeared into the night.
"[i Busy evening,]" came Wight's voice from the other end of Gweniviere's earpiece as she moved through the darkness. The German sighed, glancing around as she moved.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
Hospitals in general had a hush over them, but they had a deeper, different one at night. There, things moved quietly. The nurses and doctors moved with fast, catlike urgency on their quiet shoes.
Gweniviere did similarly, looking like she was there for a reason, nodding to the people who gave her eye contact. She stopped by the nurse's station, greeting the woman behind it and offering the badge she had, forged, and requested the paperwork for the man under guard.
She learned his name was Kendall Wellington, and he was stable for the time being. The ex-nurse nodded, looking over the paperwork with fading familiarity. It was the same information, just put together differently with the newer computers.
The Lieutenant had taken her time that evening, the scarring once again hidden.
[B Hunt Or Be Hunted]
Oliver blinked, gazing at the woman, the picture of innocence in the face of such a mean glare. His lips perched, daintily caressing the tiny straws in the drink he was pretending to nurse.
His brows shot up, a moment of gentle disbelief that perched on laughter was held between them before the actual laugh came. "[+goldenrod Oh,]" he teased, "[+goldenrod you got me.]"
He pressed another snicker out from behind his teeth, plucking out and chewing absently on one of the cocktail straws. With it, he fished out the cherry in the bottom of the drink and slipped it into his mouth, humming in acknowledgment of what she was saying.
"[+goldenrod Mm, yeah, and kidnapping you would have gone swimmingly and all,]" he added, arching his brows at her in mock disinterest.
[B With Tweedy]
[center [pic https://i-h1.pinimg.com/564x/25/ae/78/25ae78ea56837016095abfbe9d37133c.jpg?b=t]]
Alaric was roused by the gruff announcement that there was someone here 'for the necromancy and such'. The elf frowned softly, confused, and felt a trickle of fear run down his shoulders. Who was seeking them? He hoped it wasn't a desperate woman who was begging for their husband or son back. The last time he had managed that one, they were hardly pleased with the results of him resurrecting the fellow. Certainly, with control, it could do the work, but the emotional stress was a lot for most people.
He closed his book. Moving towards the entrance, the priest had been left outside, the high elf poked his head out, glancing over the man.
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