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  1. Last week
  2. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    You either are or you aren’t. Head shook a bit… she didn’t know how to explain. It wasn’t exactly the same like this world. "Shifter implied control….she had none. She listened as he spoke of outworlders. She knew all too well what the world thought of them. She tried once more to speak of the waters and how his bitter anger pushed them away. Crimson eyes met his snapped gaze without a flinch. Inquisitive brow quirking at him as he tried to deny she was accurate about his feelings. When she beckoned him to pull at her own waters, lips parted a bit in surprise as the globe became nearly crystal clear, the water paralyzed for the briefest moment. It always does that. Her response was very quiet, a gentle curve to her lips as she watched the waters again begin to swirl. My waters do not stand still… Cock of her head studied him as he snatched his binoculars up once more. Gaze sliding down to study his decorated arm. He had done more than he knew to take credit for. So angry he didn’t feel the rushing waters grow still to listen to his call. He was not as impotent as he believed. Flick of her eyes to the portal windows came nearly simultaneously with his own feeling something was off. Shit! Hold on to something. Stay here! He didn’t understand, what she could do, how she could help. She risked her safe passage, but this was close enough to new lands. She could swim for it then vanish once more. She owed him at least the safety of his ship. As he scampered up the stairs she caught a hand on the wall to avoid upending as the boat pitched violently, sending the maps and binoculars to the floor. She doubted the coat would keep her dry enough but it was buttoned up as she made the steps two at a time. Same as fucking New York… Ireland. Fucking rogues sinking shit like landmines. We’re in a debris field. These lands were not as safe as he had thought. Seemed nowhere in the world was any longer. It meant the more people that knew her demon side…. the more she risked being hunted yet again. She was tired of being hunted…. but more… she was tired of running. As he vanished into the water, she made the rail, crimson orbs reading the undulations. The boat was going to need to be lifted over the chaos to avoid ripping the hull apart. Crimson flicked off to the distance as the water let her know they were not alone. Trap. She felt the undulations of the lapping waves, mist beginning to threaten moisture on her cheeks as she pulled ever so gently on the water, density dropping under the hum of the motor that was not theirs, the craft becoming endangered of hitting the same debris they were using to trap others. We have company. I’m not sure if it’s a lighter boat that can skim across the top of this shit and beeline to us or if they have deerpaths like we need to find, but I need you at the helm. Turn the ship and I’m gonna lead us out of here back to open water. If they catch up, at least we'll have the advantage of maneuvering. I’m assuming St.John’s been compromised. When I hit the water, I need you to follow, keep the bow centered on me. Get the Irish girl up in the pilothouse with you, she has a good spotter eye. Don’t run my ass over, I can swim fast, but not that fast. Turning she looked at him as he hitched the lifeline and dropped back into the water. She would be far more useful in the water than in the house above. The haunting eyes met Avi who stared at her a moment before gesturing to the pilothouse. She could help some from there but…… If you can hear me, now would be a good time to finally start talking to me. The soft words caught her attention as she leaned over the rail to look at him. It would.. if he kept asking in moments of need and without the anger. It would. She was sure of it. She could feel the stain on her neck, like the creep of a red rash it began to bleed upward, teasing under her ears as her features dampened in the misting air. Much more salt water and she would have no reason to hide further. She owed him the safety of his ship…. Hand reached out over the rail to pull the depths below him, the water swelling gently under his torso to push both himself and the ship upward. Where is it we need to go…. The words were incredibly soft and yet carried to him on the undulations of watery ripples. The "rash" flushed her left ear, soon she might as well be in the water with him but for now…. she awaited his reply.
  3. Guest

    The Dark and Hollow Places

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  4. Brandon Valosa

    Roll With It

    Brandon laughed openly seeing Boone pick up a pancake as he did, “you might want to consider a roast beef and cabbage sandwitch with these as the bun.” He was teasing of course but hay if fast food places can do waffles and regular pancakes why not these masterpieces?” “Call it the Boxty and hoof special.” Brandon was on a roll and he had a few others up his sleeve, “take a banger and wrap it one of these like a hot dog bun. “Maybe I’ll start a cooking class.” Brandon’s eyes followed over to the bartender as he chuckled at his words, “I’ll sign up for that if I can learn to make slow cooked corned beef and Boxty.” “Brooch eh?” “Are we talkin’ like cameo hoity toity or like... kaboom kind of thing? “Were talking grandma style round brooch with hoity toity decorative knots around a fake blue stone, supposed to look like a sapphire.” Brandon chuckled to himself at the other man’s curiosity in his keepsake, “no kaboom, costume jewelry I think they called it.” He drew in a breath as he squared another piece of pancake with his fork tines, “so why are you so interested in my mother’s brooch, it’s not worth anything but sentimental value?” Actually, he had a good idea that people might like to steel the thing, that’s why he was playing down as if it had no value to anyone other than him. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at Boone, “you might be even more interested in, why I love Irish food so much if I don’t know for sure I’m Irish?” It was an attempt to get Boone off the trail of the brooch and Brandon was sure the potato pancake maker was already aware of that. Still, it was worth a shot and he was going to take it. He glanced over at Althia and grinned, “Bridget’s kitchen, she sure could feed a hungry boy.”
  5. Altheia Martin

    Let the Master Answer

    “The trouble I deal with is fair penance for my crimes. This though, was unprovoked.” The first sentence kind of made her hesitant about her thinking it was okay to trust him. Then her mind went back to the fact that everyone had a past. Everyone had skeletons in their closet and things that they weren't proud of. She figured he was no exception and if he was trying to turn over a new leaf it wasn't up to her to judge him on things that he might have done in his past. However bad those things he did were. It wasn't that she couldn't really tell there was anything out of the ordinary going on. She had spent most of her time, day and night, around blood and people that have been hurt more than they needed to be. However. She had always had fairly good hearing. Ever since middle school and they did those stupid hearing tests she always did extremely well. In fact, at one point some of the examiners thought there might be something wrong with her, but she had been just a normal person. Now, as it was with most people, was completely different. *npc* “Rhome, I know you’re in here. We can talk about this.” The voice wasn't someone that she knew and it wasn't anyone from the hospital. She stopped moving abruptly and turned around slowly, thinking she'd see someone down the street, but it was empty. Must be coming from down an alleyway, she thought. She took a few steps forward and then stopped for a moment. Is this really a good idea, she thought. She hadn't had much hand to hand combat or even any combat for that matter. She did have a way of putting someone in pain, but that required skin to skin contact. She continued to walk back to the alley way that she had passed only moments before. She tried to be careful and quiet with every single step. Hopefully whoever was cornering Rhome was too focused on him to even notice that she was now just around the corner of the alleyway. She kept her body close to the wall and then slowly leaned over slightly, peering from behind the wall to the scene that was unfolding. She could see the man had a gun pointed at Rhome. This was very bad because she didn't know if she would be able to heal a gunshot wound. Even just healing Rhome's broken ribs had taken a lot out of her. Could she push her abilities even more? "Wouldn’t want to look like the Order. Kinda defeats the purpose of being the good guys." Wait a second, she thought, is that guy ARMA? Bad situations were never Altheia's strong suit, but it looked like she was in just that spot. The second in time she had no idea what she was going to do. There were many variables to think about. Many different outcomes that could come from this one situation. She could feel her anxiety beginning to climb as she mentally debated about what to do. “Leave me alone. You attack me, I will defend myself.” She wondered if Rhome really thought this guy was going to just let him walk away. If he was the guy that had jumped Rhome before she knew the answer to that already. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before walking out into the open at the end of the alley. "Excuse me, but I don't suppose either of you could tell me how to get to the nearest drug store. I heard voices and figured I'd see if ya'll could help me out," she said as she stood there. She positioned herself so that she wouldn't really be able to tell the guy was pointing a gun at Rhome. And she also knew that there was a drug store 4 more blocks down the way she had been going. She hoped Rhome would go along with it. She figured this would be her best shot at interrupting what was going on. "I really don't mean to interrupt anything, but a neighbor friend of mine is really sick and she isn't able to get out of bed to get herself medication. So me being me decided to help her out and go out for her," she said the words kind of in a nervous ramble and hoped that the stranger wouldn't be able to pick up on it, but if he was anything like Rhome he probably would be and then she would be fucked.
  6. Earlier
  7. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    mmm….. sort of? Brow cocked. You either are or you aren’t. He wasn’t fazed, that was certain. Good grief, he didn’t know how she’d survived this long with her soft voice and averting gaze. Himself, sure he hid his dragonboat and didn’t go about broadcasting himself to the world. When it came down to it though, if he was confronted he’d rather die than live crushed. I’m not a shifter, my body is just different than humans. If you change, you’re a shifter. All sorts, Outworlder just implies you’re not from this world. The basic description still applies in my book. Good to know though. If you’re something that might sink this boat when you shift, warn me first. Especially if it was something that might sink his boat. He didn’t like surprises. You know….the more you are bitter and angry with these waters…. the more strongly they will ignore your call. Eyes snapped to her briefly. You have no idea what I’m feeling. It was abrupt. His explanation apparently not settling the subject. He wasn’t used to his words being argued with or questioned. You are wrong. These waters are powerful and wild…but coy as well. They have not had those that could call it. Now that they do, they can be stubborn in answering when they don’t like the tone of askance. They don’t understand the way the ours did what it is to be in unison. Resisting the urge to pull his hand back, he watched her little trick, apparently expected like some savant to take over. It never did anything, ever, except seem to spit back at him with some sort of contempt. Humoring her, the markings on his arms could be seen to light up through the weave of his shirt. He did truly try, at least just to humor her efforts. Of course, it did nothing, settling so still it seemed to almost become clear as a marble. Blink was slow and he looked back at her before picking up the binoculars again, as he did it thrummed like being peppered by rain, the same sound washing around the boat as if a downpour had suddenly started and stopped as quickly as it began. It always does that. Lesson was clearly over by the sound of his tone, and he left it where it lay, making his observations about the lighthouse. Siren?... tlhu'moH bIqDep?......a umm…. ….. um…. seduction witch…? He nodded, gearing up. Something still didn’t feel right. The darkness of the water from before, like tendrils of shadows pulling at him. Was it finally talking to him? He knew better than to ignore his gut. Instead of looking at the horizon, he studied the water. Ripples. Tide. It didn’t look right for what the charts said. Were his calculations wrong? He was never wrong, but his gut said otherwise. The surface was not moving like water at this depth should. Shit! The curse was dark. Fist slammed on the ceiling above him and he started moving. Hold on to something. Stay here! Engines suddenly gunned in reverse, despite the sudden surge, he deftly moved up the stairs. Items that normally were secure rolled off and clinked on the floor at the severe shift. He was in the pilothouse within seconds, depending on a massive machine of steel to stop a boat that he was pretty sure was going to hit something. *npc* Drop anchor?! No, if it’s not ground we’ll lose it. This was a clusterfuck. Same as fucking New York… Ireland. Fucking rogues sinking shit like landmines. We’re in a debris field. The sound of the hull scraping something lightly made Avi’s eyes snap to him and widen. They were almost to a stop, turning slightly to the side and drifting gently. The water had warned him. What the fuck? Talk to him, but not do what he wanted… The boat undulated lazily, on no particular path as the captain leaned over the rail and scanned the water, already pulling off his clothes and shoes. There was no hesitation. I’m going in to see if we can drop anchor. We might have to wait until it’s light to maneuver out of here, but I don't thin we have that long. We’re right where someone wants us to be. If something moves out there, shoot it. He left the lifeline off for now. Too much risk getting tangled. As soon as he touched the water, he knew. The sound was there… hum of something that wasn’t his boat. A motor, far off. Slow. This was a big fucking spiderweb and they hadn't wiggled enough to catch its attention yet. He came back up, Avi trotting over. We have company. I’m not sure if it’s a lighter boat that can skim across the top of this shit and beeline to us or if they have deerpaths like we need to find, but I need you at the helm. Turn the ship and I’m gonna lead us out of here back to open water. If they catch up, at least we'll have the advantage of maneuvering. I’m assuming St.John’s been compromised. When I hit the water, I need you to follow, keep the bow centered on me. Get the Irish girl up in the pilothouse with you, she has a good spotter eye. Don’t run my ass over, I can swim fast, but not that fast. Would she agree to spot for them? He wasn’t sure, but if she could watch their backs while his crew made sure they kept an eye on him and didn’t run him over- it would be helpful. He monkey barred to the front of the ship, hooking his lifeline on the bow, dropping back into the water. Shit. It was everywhere, shadows looming and the vibrations of decaying hulls throbbing in the water. Listening to the ships engine’s start to turn and he started moving, the line snapping taught as paused for a moment under the surface and centered a moment before he surfaced again. If you can hear me, now would be a good time to finally start talking to me, he murmured and started moving. They hadn’t gone in far, but enough to slow them down and get their asses sniped by skimmer boats looking for a take down. It could be a tense trip, but not by much more.
  8. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

    Roll With It

    Beer belly…. all dudes had beer bellies in different states of “maturity”. Hahahaha…. his, was well a little underdeveloped because he went off to god knows where all the time and had to live off power bars, dirt and bugs.. Not really. Just power bars. Occasional squirrel. Moose. Moose and squirrel. Meese? Aw fuck it. Brow rose slightly under the guise of being focused and concentrated, he knew she got tipsy quick. Might need a chaperone home if that’s where she chose to go. He had a flop spot upstairs, but… man cave. True man cave. No girls allowed. Food delivered, he just bypassed the silverware and picked one up like a cheeseburger. They were fried, sorta.. but no greasy paws. “I sure wish I could cook but what I manage to do is burn my food though I’m better over an open flame like a campfire.” “That’s a skill, definitely a hard earned skill. Major props.” "I'm wondering if the way to a girl's heart might not also be food, I mean. These are really freaking good.” “Maybe I’ll start a cooking class,” he munched and flicked a quirked glance to Blue. Her perpetual state of annoyance didn’t change. *npc* You’d be awesome. The deadpan delivery of almost everything she said still made him snicker. He loved her to death. “Hear that? Accountant. Builder of fancy pants motorcycles and master chef,” he grabbed a clean dishtowel and tossed it at her playfully. She was going to clean his clock later hahahaha…. Then it came. The explanation that really… reallllllly tested his resolve. Sure, Altheia sorta knew what he’d been doing before he’d gotten shot when they first met. BUT, she didn’t really. Nobody did. Not Blue, not Bakkhos, not Pharos. Nobody except his buyers… sellers, err buyers. No fucking difference. So not Irish and has a fancy toy eh? He smoothly took a long tip of his mug, eyes glancing to Altheia, then to the room. Place was empty. Good. Not for long though. Dinner crowd, end of work crowd… Don’t say shit. Don’t say shit. Don’t say shit. Act cool. Boone is cool. Boone is awesome. “Brooch eh?” Mug clunked on the counter and he turned in his stool, both forearms on the counter as he picked apart his second potato cake like a piece of chicken as he ate it. His interest wasn’t ALLLL bad… c’mon now. It wasn’t like he was going to clunk the guy over the head, take it and sell it to the highest bidder. He HAD a REAL job. Like… taking it and giving it to Pharos. Neither of them knew that soooo… fuck it. Nosy it was. "Are we talkin' like cameo hoity toity or like..." his fingers flipped and he made a quiet explosion sound. "... kaboom kind of thing?"
  9. Rhome Del Santo

    Let the Master Answer

    "They tried to kill me, I did what was necessary." Eyes settled on her as she studied him. There was no more hiding. Before, he could pretend to be studying at university for something or other and even pass as a scholar- now he didn’t bother. He didn’t need or want to anymore. Had she asked questions, he would have answered truthfully- he just didn’t want to bring trouble to her doorstep. "Then that is even more of a reason to not be blaming yourself. Survival is important. If someone goes after you it's only fair that you protect yourself" “The trouble I deal with is fair penance for my crimes. This though, was unprovoked.” It was cryptic, but it was true. "My.... myself.... I mean. I usually always walk home by myself, I don't typically have a problem when I do, but.... I suppose you never know what could happen." He nodded, made sense. He was old fashioned he guessed, or he just knew there were people like him out there. Brow creased slightly at her worried look… maybe he’d said too much. "What exactly do you mean...." He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Time to leave. …and wait for her to leave. It was a stupid idea, but it felt like the right one. He could move just out of everyone’s sight line. It wasn’t a talent, it was pure training. Specialty, like walking a tightrope. There were just some things that took unusual skill sets. Three blocks into the walk and he was about to peel off and head home. Back to almost full health and wits, it allowed him at first to smell it… then instinctively know he was being followed by someone who was bleeding. The scent was stark against the snow and slush. Shit. Either the guy had sought out medical attention, or he wasn’t as injured as he’d left him and had tracked him to the hospital. Either way, another confrontation was moving in his direction. Damn it. Peeling off into an alley, he went up with unusual grace for someone his size, finding a point where he couldn’t be seen- but could see the majority of the backstreet. *npc* “Rhome, I know you’re in here. We can talk about this.” There was no talking, was there? The man had followed him before. Was he really following him without ill intent? The fire magus had thrown the first punch at the subway after all. Could they talk about this? After several moments, he slid down the ladder and dropped from the fire escape. Benefit of the doubt, maybe things had changed. ..aaaaand a gun. It was the one thing he couldn’t defend himself against effectively. Bullets were weird things, and the risk of collateral damage to create a shield around himself hot enough to melt something moving that quickly was extremely high. Predicting where it would hit him was another variable. He let the guy move closer to him, life expectancy was shorter every step he took to get closer to the former assassin. The bullet would hit him quicker, sure, but he could torch the guy more accurately… and faster, before he ever got a shot off. The fire magus didn’t need words to call on his power, he could do it without warning. The man stopped. He could feel mana. He was smarter than to get any closer. “We just want you to come in.” Nope. He knew with the disappearances he was enemy number one. He would go in, and he wouldn’t come out. “And if I don’t, you’ll kill me here. You’re going to kill me anyway, you just didn’t want to do it on the street where others could see you. Wouldn’t want to look like the Order. Kinda defeats the purpose of being the good guys." Flame flickered down the skin of his hands. “Leave me alone. You attack me, I will defend myself.” His brain was screaming… just kill him already.
  10. Calder Muireadach

    Fae Fury is coming......

    Two miles inland is the halfway house. A stop over for a big meal and to learn of their options, which are two from there. He simply watched; expression uninviting. It never really was anything but, he rarely smiled before this world and even less so now. Well fed they may take the bus down to Rio. The city is dominated by outworlders. A bit noisy and too much….concrete…. for my taste…. One New York for another, only filled with those of their kind or those at least sympathetic to their kind. It might be a good place for some. Then again, the elf could be lying his ass off. …. but they can look for work there and set up a life there if that is how they want to go. No guarantee of an easy transition but at least a guarantee that they are not hunted there… not reviled. The other option is they take the truck the rest of the way into my lands deep in the jungle. There they are guaranteed a home for each family and a job to get them on their feet. It is community living… they find a role to provide to the community in addition to working for the company. There it was, gaze sliding to the verge beyond and back to him. Tending the garden….the animals… something of that nature. Mind wandered off for a moment. Best intentions, for a cost. Stay a week…. a year… a lifetime…. choice is theirs. “Is it really?” question was quiet, deeply mistrustful. He’d used people, because that’s what royalty did. Everyone lived for the rulers’ right to live comfortably, and in turn they provided protection with the expectation they would lay down their lives if they asked them to. This was the best of situations, but deep down he knew he was delivering them to something that benefitted the elf in the end. They just needed to know it that before they made the decision to stay. I get help that can be trusted not to blow up my home…. they get a chance to get on their feet in a place where they are safe from the outside world…. “I don’t vet anyone before I bring them here, so what they do here is on you.” Satisfied? “No, but it’s not my choice.” He nodded slightly to Avi and the man broke from point to head down to bring up the weary travelers. Light footsteps brought him back onto the rail of the boat, where he balanced until they all had emerged. “We’re going to get on a caravan to get something to eat, then you can choose to go to Rio or you can go further in with Mr. Caranthir and work for him. Both options have pros and cons, but the decision is yours. Know though, that I will not leave without any of you that want to return with me. I will not leave you here if you don’t want to stay.” There were nods and murmurs of the half dozen tired and hot passengers. He unpinned the gangplank with the aid of his crew and secured it to the dock, stepping to the side to let them begin to make their choices. Leaving them to it for a moment, he went to his quarters and found a gray t-shirt and peeled it over his torso, abandoning his larger blade for small utility-looking ones that were in leather sheaths at the base of his spine. T-shirt would be soaked through in a matter of moments. He simply was not of this climate- it seriously took him off his game; he just didn’t have the physiology to deal with it. Shoes were somewhere, sliding on a pair of worn skipper shoes. He was going with to check out the locations. “Keep sharp, leave if there’s any trouble. Half mile out, I’ll find you. If it’s safe we’ll rotate shifts to go up the road and get things we need.” They nodded and he took the gangplank for once. “I’m going with. Not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust anyone until I see it with my own eyes.”
  11. Rhome Del Santo

    Just Another Day at the Office....

    He caught the eye roll at Seiko. Abrasive with almost everyone it seemed. His expression was neutral enough to be unconcerned, but when the guy stepped out into the open with him it changed to hints of sarcasm and curiosity. He’d never been sarcastic in his life; he was indeed losing his mind. Did they just think he was going to reach out and knock it out of the air to protect them? "We call it a kinetic vacuum, a device to deprive a kinetic artifact of motion and impact. In short, something to trick it into thinking it’s still flying across the room, when in reality it’s stuck up against the device. Still with me?" Sigh was soft, betraying nothing else but cool. He got it. Why the hell was he here cleaning up other people’s messes…. he shouldn’t have stuck his nose in. The magus was not a team player, made even less so when he watched the grin on the guy’s face. If he got his ass kicked because someone needed to prove themselves in a pissing contest he was going to… This is indeed why he wasn’t a team player. “I like you, I think, but when this is all said and done, I’m gonna have a lot of questions for ya about all this...” Full gaze went to the man. It was the only time in his life he could recall anyone ever saying that about him. Questions though, questions were bad- he killed people for a living. So much for the quiet exit. “You heard him, people! I want that box in my hands pronto. Go!” “Didn’t come in a box….. chased an officer into this building after they tried to save a shop owner around the corner from it. Killed both.” Great. “Of course Pharos is SUPPOSED to have those kinds of things handy…. containments of all kinds…..” Brow cocked slightly. "…only reason to call Pharos in the first place." Okay, he had things to do other than get in the middle of a tiff, noting she was readying to take aim. He moved off on his own until the suicide plan came together and the elusive Pharos item came into play. There wasn’t more he could do other than tend to the fallen, noticing quickly that others weren’t as comfortable with it. New Pharos, or old Pharos with a new job... the guy seemed to be heebie-jeebied out. It bolstered his suspicion he was out to prove himself. Well. If he could wrap this up in a nice bow for him, he would. “Dammit Kayne… Don’t look at the bodies.” He was about to answer, but the thing was moving, hand snapping up to Seiko not to fire yet. Yes, that type of kneejerk shit would get him killed… the magus absolutely still as the thing almost knocked an agent on his ass. They didn’t have much more time for this thing to flop around before it took down the building. Eyes scanned the room, looking for a bit of predictability as to where the thing would go if Seiko or he missed. If all else failed, there were things he could do to stop it… things he would rather not have to- collateral in the immediate vicinity would be huge. “Ten degrees… ten degrees… “ he was talking to himself in his own little world, glancing back and forth between it, Seiko and his position. He’d been watching it; it did have a method to its madness. It seemed attracted to movement, vibration… like a bat almost. If it moved again, he would have to reset himself. He was probably going to die anyway. “I need the impact -not the explosion- to be less than five feet from me. I hope you’re a good shot,” words were directed at Seiko. “It will restart and slow its momentum, and I can stop it for about ten seconds.” He slid out the athame he always carried from the sheath on the inside of his wrist under his sleeve. Slicing a quick two inch nick in his palm, he made a fist, wiping the blade on his thigh and returning it. Blood was no joke. He could not afford to lose. Gaze went to Darius, eyes reflecting oddly in the light with their mercurial silver. Mana was starting to be pulled in. “Stay twenty feet out from me to my right. Wait three seconds after that rocket goes off before you head toward me or the explosion will burn your face off. I can keep from burning you.” Not the entire truth. If Pharos was slow, or hesitated, the longer it took the hotter it would have to get to keep the thing stationary for him to slam the box or whatever it was around it. Pharos was probably going to come out with a good suntan. He didn’t need to know that yet, no need to plant seeds of doubt that could cripple bravado at go-time. The Magus? The magus was too trusting that when he "ceased fire" in order to not barbecue his partner in crime when he got close, that Pharos would be fast enough to snatch it before it crushed the Italian's rib cage. Fuck this hero shit. “How’s it coming Pharos? Find the thing we need?” It was wiggling like an impatient child. Could it feel the mana moving? Left hand slowly swathed itself with a white quiver before it slithered to life as cooler orange flame. Stop it with the left, be ready to push Pharos out of the way with his right if things went wrong, pray he didn’t need both hands to stop it or get out of the way before it squished him. He had a back-up plan... but it wasn't one he wanted to execute. His Uriel charm wouldn't protect him against that and he really didn't want to end up naked in a small crowd of people. Or dead. Dead was more concerning, but naked would suck too. This was the dumbest thing he’d ever done, trusting others not to fuck up. He was not a team player. "Last chance for a better plan?"
  12. Brandon Valosa

    Roll With It

    Brandon had glanced in the kitchen to see how Boone was coming along and watched as the pancakes of potatoes plates and threw the griddle around by its hot surface as if it was as cool as cellar cooled tuber. His eyes widened and then his brow furrowed but he didn’t say a word knowing that the world he lived in allowed people to do feats that others could not. His smile broadened and the expression turned to normal as he saw the bar owner emerge with his creations, “look at those beauties.” Casting a glance at Althea the man gave her a big grin, “hope you’re ready for a masterpiece of flavor.” The smile on his face couldn’t have been bigger as his gaze turned back to the browned potatoes that occupied the plates. "Do you cook?" Brandon’s gaze came back to Boones and his eye twinkled, “I sure wish I could cook but what I manage to do is burn my food though I’m better over an open flame like a campfire.” "I'm wondering if the way to a girl's heart might not also be food, I mean. These are really freaking good.” Oh great, Branden thought as he watched the woman, lost her already. He just shook his head and chuckled, “most Iris food is amazing.” "I might have to take some cooking lessons." Brandon chuckled as he glanced over at the woman, "I should join you on that." Taking in a deep breath and allowing the smile on his face to become a little wry, “alright," Brandon said as he grabbed his fork and knife, “I said I’d let you decide if I’m Irish or not so here it goes.” Brandon glanced between the three others around and he nodded, "the Resonance is my earliest memory so I’ll have to start there.” The man shook his head as he recalled the ordeal, “I watched a man not ten feet from me change from a human into an elf in an alley.” The man drew in a breath and continued preparing to slice off a piece of the fantastic edibles before him, “evidently I was living on the street and there are no records of my parents.” Brandon slid the tines of his fork into a small portion of a potato pancake, ‘there is one clue I have, just one, a brooch I believe was my mothers.”
  13. Altheia Martin

    Roll With It

    “I heard that.” "Oh no he heard that," she whispered to herself in a hushed tone and giggled softly. She couldn't help it was the truth. Boone could drink her under the table in a heartbeat. Sometimes she wished she could handle her liquor a little better, but if there was one thing that she was certain of it wouldn't take much to have her feeling awesome and tipsy. “Well we do like to eat but there are other ways to our hearts.” Her eyes looked over at Brandon and she nodded slightly. "You are right about that too..." she stopped talking and blinked a few times. There were many ways. Lots of ways. Too many ways. It had been a while since she had to worry about any of that. Finding someone didn't seem as important as it had been before everything changed. Took too much time. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of loneliness most days. And most days it was pretty much unbearable. “I’d pour you another.” At first she felt like she was going to shake her head, but she didn't because she would have probably made him pour her another. But she had already taken another drink and it was half gone. She wasn't too sure if she should have another drink after this one. Would probably not be the best idea, she thought. “Gotta keep my beer belly fluffed somehow.” What beer belly, she thought to herself. There was no way in hell she was going to open her mouth to make any sort of comment to those words. Nope, she thought, nope nope nope. She sighed softly and looked at Boone, then at Brandon. She was getting too wasted to be here..... The plate slid in front of her and it stopped her in mid thought of wanting to leave. The sound of her grumbling stomach was more than enough to overpower her urge to leave the two boys to hang out. She picked up a fork with her right hand and cut into one of the four potato cakes on her plate. She blew lightly on the food on her fork and put the food in her mouth. It was literally to die for. Her eyes moved between Brandon and Boone, then stayed on Boone. "I'm wondering if the way to a girl's heart might not also be food," she said, then looked down, blushed lightly and smiled. "I mean. These are really freaking good," she said. That feeling of wanting to flee the scene of the bar came back. This whole making a fool of herself was just too much to handle. She couldn't help herself. It was who she was, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I might have to take some cooking lessons," she said softly to herself as she took another bite of the food, feeling slightly better.
  14. Altheia Martin

    Let the Master Answer

    "They tried to kill me, I did what was necessary." She couldn't help but study him. She was curious about him. About who he was. How a priest could end up being hunted after. Then it sort of clicked. A light bulb going off in her head. He must be someone dangerous. There was no way someone would go after a priest. Then again morals didn't really matter much anymore. "Then that is even more of a reason to not be blaming yourself. Survival is important. If someone goes after you it's only fair that you protect yourself," she said softly to his words. “Then who would walk you home?” His question she seemed to think was sincere. Was he really concerned for her safety? Or was he just wondering if she'd go tell someone what had happened tonight? It wasn't easy for her to believe that he didn't trust anyone. There probably isn't anyone in his life he can count on, she thought. "My.... myself.... I mean. I usually always walk home by myself," she looked at him and smiled. "I don't typically have a problem when I do, but.... I suppose you never know what could happen." And that was the honest truth. Anything could happen. The way her luck was going. She would probably end up dead tonight, somehow. And without even having a good proper date with Boone. Now that's a sad thing, she thought. “Don’t believe what you hear about me.” A slight nod was made toward him after his first words. At least I made an effort, she thought. She knew it was probably for the best. Rhome probably didn't want anyone walking with him and especially anyone he just met. Granted she did just heal him at a cost to herself. But ya know, whatever. His next words though slightly worried her. Her head tilted to the right slightly and her forehead creased with a worried look. "What exactly do you mean...." she said softly. Mostly to herself. If there was one thing that she didn't let people do was tell her what to do or what and how to think about someone. So far there was no reason why she shouldn't trust him right now. He had done nothing to harm her. People change. All the time. If there were bad things about him she was more than sure, without a doubt, that it had probably happened in his past. And well. The past was the past. “Thank you.” She nodded once more at him as he said his thank you. "Mmmhmm..." she said as she watched him leave. A soft sigh came from her lips and she closed her eyes for a minute, taking some time to collect herself. She turned back to look at the room, seeing everything was in it's place. Like nothing had happened. She moved through the door and looked at some of the people moving about. She smiled at one of the nurses. "Hey, I'm heading home. I'm exhausted. Give me a call if there is an extreme emergency, okay," she asked. NPC : "Yeah. No problem, Altheia," the nurse smiled at her and nodded. Altheia headed out and rubbed her arms slightly, feeling the slight breeze. Crap, should have brought a jacket, she thought. Most of the time she didn't really care about what the weather was like, but tonight she kinda wished she had. She turned to the right, heading toward her apartment. It wasn't that far of a walk. Five or six blocks both ways a day seemed to pretty much keep her in shape and in the morning she tended to do it in a run. Exercise was important to her some of the time. A high metabolism helped her keep a nice shape, but endurance was something you had to work for. She passed by an alley way, glancing down it for a split second not noticing anything alarming. She turned her head to look straight ahead, keeping her feet moving and her hands still rubbing her upper arms slightly, trying to warm herself up.
  15. Rhome Del Santo

    Blasphemy and Sacrilege

    He was used to stillness, to ease when discomfort was the more normal response. The magus was conditioned to be calm in the face of conflict or anger; it was that conditioning he was starting to buck. Question. Once compressed and focused like the point of a knife, the magus didn’t know where he stood now. Cutting ties with the Order left him with a freedom to wield his power as he wished. He wasn’t sure yet if that would be his downfall, or theirs. With small shreds of odd unpredictable personality starting to break through cracks of calm, it could very well be both. The magus blinked away his quiet thoughts, glancing toward the spigot and reaching to turn it up as it began to allow more water to flow. ”I got better things to do than harass the elderly and go ghost hunting. I also have better ideas than admitting to my employer that I got stuck on an alcohol run and broke into a church. If it’s all the same to you, I was at home like a sane and reasonable person for all of today.” There was a soft smile dusting across his features for a brief moment. He was rarely amused, and this situation would seem so. What wasn’t funny, was that the 'intruder' truly was freezing. Contemplating for a second on the irony of it he knelt quietly, not missing the focused gaze after he tossed out the need to share information. Nobody would listen to him. They never gave him a chance, the 'shoot first and ask questions later' always applied to him. Fingertips touched the floor. At first glance, he thought it’d been packed dirt. It was a mixture of cement, packed dirt, and years of debris smashed firm into a hard floor. He would have preferred dirt. ”If I wanted violence, I would have never dropped the visual cloak and attacked. It would make no sense for me to give up my biggest advantage in surprise only to attack you first from a point of disadvantage later on.” Eyes were fixed on the floor as the man spoke. “If you want to deliver a message, that’s fine. Just be aware that I wasn’t lying when I said my job is dragon hunting, and I have no idea who you are at this point. If you have info on any sort of disappearances, though, I’m all ears. If you have any sort of proof, all the better and I’ll go out of my way to make sure it gets to people who can do something about it.” Silence followed except the trickle of water into the bucket. He was listening intently, even if it didn't seem like it. The frightening sudden onslaught of frozen weather had penetrated even the foundation, but he was patient. The cold of the floor was deep; it didn’t want to give up the ghost. “I’m very rarely surprised,” there was no malice or chest-puffery behind it, just a quiet fact. After a few moments, the floor began to radiate heat and the room warmed considerably to a balmy, tolerable temperature. It would do no good to send a message through a man that was going to freeze to death first, and he didn't feel like focusing on keeping everybody warm when he was fixing things. Floor radiant heat would do the job. He stood and turned the spigot back to a drip, picking up the bucket to move to the boiler. Clinks were quiet as he worked, the dust on tools left on a ledge betraying the reason the thing was fubar-d in the first place- nobody was taking care of it. He could fix things. Stoves. Fridges. Radiators. Boilers… a hint to the life he had before he became this. “Your boss is missing,” there was no love lost between the two men, and though he understood the stormcaller’s rabid insistence on his obliteration there was still a respect there. “Related to the recent disappearances most likely.” Brow came down as he tried to break the corrosion on a bolt, finally popping it loose. “Order and Arma have been quiet about it. The Vanguard is also involved, though each faction will definitely deny it.” He was about to paint another target on his back. The Order didn’t like their secrets being spilled. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. The more pain he could inflict, the more he would throw off their business as usual. “Humans, are practicing magic using the blood of mages… and other humans. Sorcery, arcane magic. The factions are trying to snap up relics as quickly as possible to keep them out of their hands. So the humans turned to magus, and that’s why they’re disappearing. They can’t have the toys they need, so they’re taking our blood. Everyone, every last magic-slinger is in danger.” Water went in and he began to fill the valves. Water was flowing now, things were moving forward quickly. “I’m not killing Arma. I didn’t kill your boss. I know it’s too much to ask, but they need to trust me. I’m not on Arma’s side, but I will find who’s responsible. What I know, I will share… but not if Arma keeps me backed in a corner.” That was it. Knobs were turned and he opened the pilots again to light, middle finger flicking against his thumb like a match to produce a focused flame. He should have stopped talking, but the new need to piss off his former employer was deep. Spilling secrets. He would spill them to anyone that would listen. It was time. “The Order can go fuck itself,” he wasn’t a very good priest. “I’m Rhome Del Santo. The Order will deny I exist, New York Arma has orders to kill me on sight after I went off grid from their dog collar. I was trained at the Vatican to kill any identified Arma target. I've killed hundreds. Everything Arma believes, alleges against the Order… is true.” The boiler hissed to life and he tapped the pressure gauges. Success. “Tell Arma this recent surge is not me. I’m not killing them anymore, and I'm not in contact with the Order other than to break their fucking teeth in. As for proof?” The bucket was returned to the slop sink. A building this big, there were certainly more boilers and they seemed to be working at the moment. He would check them later. Reaching up, he tugged at the paper collar and unbuttoned his neck enough to pull the shirt to the side. Healed, yet a cherry red line still stretched from the center of his throat around under his ear. An inch higher and it would have been his jugular. Fingers flicked at the paper collar before he buttoned back up and replaced it. “Definitely a human wielding some kind of shadow manipulation with a garrote. They’d built a ritual floor altar and tried to drag me onto it to bleed out. I will find them myself and melt the skin off their bones.” The "so far" calm priest’s demeanor was unsettling against the sudden proclamation of brutal violence. “But I’m not the one killing Arma.” He left the spigot at a drip, moving toward the door to head back upstairs, leaving the weight of the confession where it lay. “Food?”
  16. Zeph

    4 YEARS STRONG

    Cant believe this snuck up on me!!! Two days ago we hit the 4 years active mark! I want to thank all the wonderful writers that have been here from the beginning and those that have just recently joined. I am thankful to get the opportunity to write with people that are both talented and patient. Thank you for the creativity and the perseverance. I hope to write with you all another 4 years! Your crazy ole admin Zeph
  17. Raeden (Rae) Seiko

    Just Another Day at the Office....

    She couldn’t help a faint smirk as the man snapped his fingers back in mockery of the Pharos agent. Perhaps it really was time to work with the Order instead of Pharos for a while. "I'm the fucking Order." She was liking him more and more. Hazel keenly watched the flicker of blue flame. Magus. Not exactly unexpected from the Order. Though when she had crossed his path at the coffee shop she would have first guessed a lycan from the brooding demeanor. “Projectile changes the direction, explosive is probably not hot enough to impact its speed like I just did.” Head shook with the launcher still perched on her shoulder like some petite mad-max warrior. No… doesn’t alter the speed and only deviates it about 10 degrees from its original path. “If Kayne has the “kinetic vacuum” he mentioned, we could most likely stop it. It would take all three of us to get it where we can "catch" it… unless one of you screws up and gets me killed, then it’ll probably kill both of you… or the building collapses first. I think I can stop it, but only for a few seconds if Kayne has what he thinks he has. We can shut it down long enough to contain it.... It also had to be in something before it started flopping around out here. A box maybe that kept it bound... maybe? That'd be a start?” Frown clearly expressed a displeasure at relying on the Pharos screw-up. But at this point they didn’t have much choice. She did get where the Order magus was going with that though. Whatever contained it was probably somewhere near that shop. She suspected there was another dead body…. one that had been too curious and opened it to begin with. It’s fast, it’s strong, and it’s brutal. Thing is, it doesn’t stop that easily, so it keeps smashing around. Lucky for us, Pharos has something for that. Snap had a lethal edge. And you don’t think whipping that nugget out would have been advisable BEFORE it killed another officer. He was now on a shit list that meant he had better watch his every step. She would arrest his ass the next time he damn well jaywalked and toss away the key. "Badge knocks it into me with that...thing. I stop it, Kayne binds it, Badge stuffs it back in the box. Kayne takes it home. If you can find the box." Lips opened only to snap shut again as nitwit again proved his ignorance. You heard him, people! I want that box in my hands pronto. Go! There was a quiet undercurrent in her tone that made Lance step out of the line of fire. He knew the tone well. Didn’t come in a box….. chased an officer into this building after they tried to save a shop owner around the corner from it. Killed both. Narrow gaze slid to the screw up, the tone accusatory. Of course Pharos is SUPPOSED to have those kinds of things handy…. containments of all kinds….. Grumble came under her breath as eyes fixed on the artifact, adding.. …only reason to call Pharos in the first place. She didn’t miss the reverence paid her fallen blue brothers as the Order magus made his rounds of the vacant warehouse. It went a long way to earning her respect. Launcher shifted as she took aim. Pharos idiot better move fast to get his vacuum and a containment unit or he was going to get blown away in the aftershock about to come. She wasn’t waiting for him to take the hint.
  18. Rhome Del Santo

    Let the Master Answer

    "Don't be blaming yourself because someone else beat the crap out of you. That isn't any way to live. Things happen and you just have to go with the flow" He wanted to say something, to spill his entire life out to a complete stranger because she would likely never see him again. There was nobody he knew that he could do that with. Everyone around him had a stake in the game. The assassin spoke truths to those he knew, and trouble always followed. It occurred to him at that moment that he really should find somebody he could confide in- but who in the world would listen to what he had to say and not call the cops… or ARMA? Nobody. He knew he was being studied as he cleaned up, the magus noticed everything. She had good instincts, but she was too trusting. Too willing to trust first and ask questions later. It would bring her trouble someday. "They didn't," was all he confided. Tone of his voice made it clear he definitely wasn't on the worse end of the fight. "They tried to kill me, I did what was necessary." His glance moved back and forth from the tray to her as he straightened things, looking for some kind of reaction, condemnation likely. Judgment. He'd said too much. Not a very good priest. "I guess we all can't be perfect at what we do or who we are" Who we are. The words resonated a moment. He wished he had the opportunity to figure that out. "You really don't have to do that" He blinked at her, what other choice was there than to clean up a mess he’d caused? But, it was good advice. It was very possible ‘the other guy’ was going to land somewhere, even here. Soon. "Should I walk you to wherever you need to go" Gaze watched her a moment, truly contemplating. She was leaving, so that meant she was going home alone and not feeling well. She’d mentioned walking, which also tossed up a red flag. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. “Then who would walk you home?” the response was quiet. "The coast is clear" “I’m fine, you go home,” he answered, knowing damn well he was going to follow her to make sure she got where she was going safely. “Just…” fingers squeezed the hoodie again. “Don’t believe what you hear about me.” She may put a face with a name and figure it out eventually, maybe not. For a time, his face was plastered across every ARMA most-wanted wall in the city. She could be ARMA, might not be. She was definitely a magus working in the public eye, and rogues didn’t tend to do that. He just didn’t want to walk out and get shot in the back, or have to lose a tail before he could get home. He definitely didn't want her dealing with fallout from being associated with him. The guy was still out there. He should have killed him; brow coming down at the dark thought before he smiled slightly at her and took his leave. “Thank you.” Door was pushed open silently and he moved toward the exit. He could be completely invisible when he wanted to be, able to read where people’s attention was before he slipped past the corner of their eyes. Cold air snapped at his skin and he pulled the hoodie on and the hood up, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning the corner to wait until she left. He was going to make sure she got home.
  19. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

    Roll With It

    “No where near as much as Boone is” “I heard that,” he muttered. WHY did people think he was a lush?? …he was a lush. He was just a functional lush. Irish and altered seemed to make this AMAZING mix of functional drunk. He was never really drunk, metabolism burned too fast. He could just keep drinking and hope for the best?? "First of all. Who said that I will be falling down? Second of all. Who said I'll be getting up. Although. I am quite hungry.... I think I forgot to eat today...." There were few things that bothered him. That was one.. errrrrrr two? Cripes he was an accountant by day, he knew how to frickin’ count and stuff. Per se… He hated that phrase, it was a dumb phrase, per se… moving on. Two things. People that took advantage of those that worked their asses off and those that worked their asses off and forgot to eat. So… POTATO CAKES! "I'm so glad both of you know what that is and have something to bond over, I guess the way to a man's heart really is his stomach" “Darn right,” it was matter of fact. “Well we do like to eat but there are other ways to our hearts” His laugh was bright, the air “fist bump” at the man spoke volumes. Lotsa ways… "If you had spilled my drink....." “I’d pour you another,” the chide was sing song as he dictated how many potato cakes the world needed. Everybody needed potato cakes. “It’s almost as if… I have unlimited access to alcohol…” "Um.... Okay.... What if I don't want that many" “I’ll eat ‘em,” he rubbed his stomach as he cooked. “Gotta keep my beer belly fluffed somehow.” He reeeeeealllly wanted a cook that could make traditional Irish food. Blue had been looking, but passively. “Not sure if that’s necessary, there probably isn’t that much demand for potato pancakes.” Eyes flicked to Blue as she continued prepping for the evening crowd. The “pin-up girl” was often mistaken for his girlfriend, but she was very much like a sister. She didn’t take his shit, and she could throw a punch with the rest of them. Sometimes, she even rivaled his wit but could do it with a straight face. *npc* There isn’t. She agreed with Brandon, casting Boone a glance with a lick of sarcasm to annoy him. “Traitor.” "I.... I didn't have that bad of a hangover. I mean.... I've had worse hangovers...Probably will have a worse hangover...." “Nah, food during helps.” He glanced out over the counter as he asked her friend if he was kin of sorts. Apparently Altheia didn’t know either. What a curious dude. “I got some secrets on that, but food does help.” He flipped his creations… “Tell you what, you come out with those boxties and I’ll let you decide.” The “humble accountant” chuckled to himself as he plated his masterpieces, totally blasé about grabbing things without a potholder. To Altheia and Blue, it was normal to see. To anyone else, the usual reaction was to freak out that he was going to burn himself. Hell… at first his normal reaction was always to freak out that he was going to burn himself. Now… picking up a griddle not by the handle was the norm. Silverware. The best cool looking stoneware plates anywhere in the world and they were slid in front of the two with the grace of a master chef… or just someone that worked in a bar all his life. Sliding glasses down the bar was actually a real thing too. He poured himself another beer and sat to dig in. “Do you cook?”
  20. AN AU THE WALKING DEAD RPG [Jcink] Plot | Rules | Canons | Wanted Ads | Face Claims Au Season seven The Walking Dead we pick up where the mid season finale ends after Eugene is taken to the Sanctuary. With a few more twists to come with the story, Glenn has survived and spent months with Daryl in the captivity of the saviors. After so long there Negan returned to Alexandria with three gifts.. Guns... Daryl.... And Glenn, but he wanted something in return..
  21. modern fantasy | supernatural & mythological | no word count What if the gods of old were still among us? Maddened by humanity's forgetfulness, the gods created new races to worship them. Humans may risk losing their superiority as these creatures start pushing farther from the shadows – but what happens next is up to you! Play as the gods themselves, or races like vampires, witches, shapeshifters, and more! Home | Rules | Plot | Wanted Ads | Face Claim
  22. Altheia Martin

    Let the Master Answer

    “My fault, I should never have landed here in the first place.” Her head shook a little before she spoke, "Don't be blaming yourself because someone else beat the crap out of you. That isn't any way to live. Things happen and you just have to go with the flow," she said softly before taking the gauze that he handed her, wiping the blood away from her nose. She sighed once more and placed the used gauze down at her side as she stayed on the ground and said her next words. Her eyes stayed on him as he got the blood off of himself. The blood on his knuckles she had noticed and she wondered just how bad the guy was that attacked him, but she instinctively knew better than to ask. “I’m not a very good priest.” She watched him get up and smiled softly as he extended his hand toward her, helping her up. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, making sure she could stand on her own two feet without falling over. Luckily it seemed as if she was getting her strength back. Totally not healing anyone else though, she thought to herself. Her eyes stayed on him and she smiled a little more. "I guess we all can't be perfect at what we do or who we are," she said. And that's the fucking truth, she thought. If tonight was any indication she needed to be more aware of how much healing she did. The one thing that was on her mind was if she should tell anyone just how bad things got tonight though. Letting people know just how weak healing made her made her feel nervous. Her head tilted to the side as she watched him pick up the mess he had made. It was interesting to her to watch. That this man, who was obviously very dangerous, could still care so much about picking up a mess. There has got to be more to his story, she thought. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind that was telling her to not get involved with this one. If there was one thing she didn't need. It was danger. "You really don't have to do that," she said softly before he spoke. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?” She watched him take off his bloodied hoodie and shook her head, but then shrugged. "Not that I can think of, but...." she paused and stared at him. "Should I walk you to wherever you need to go," she asked the question hesitantly, thinking without a doubt that he was going to decline, but she was going to be going home after he left anyway. That was the best part about being her, she could leave work when she wanted. "I'm not feeling all too hungry right now. I had a fairly large lunch," she looked at him then moved to the window of the trauma room, seeing what everyone was doing. There wasn't anyone milling about to see what was going on which was a good thing. She turned back around to Rhome and looked at him. "The coast is clear," she said.
  23. Aingeal Clarke

    Old spectres and new phantoms

    ”How long has it been since the search started?” It had been much easier when things had first changed. She would mainly focus on her brother, but after a few months and seeing dead people the only thing she concerned about was seeing her dead brother. It was almost like she had been running from herself. She was fairly certain that if she saw him she'd blame herself and the way she changed. Shit, she thought, everything freaking changed. She changed. She kept her eyes on the road, but every now and again her eyes would flit to the left or right, catching glimpses of people or spirits that would somewhat startle her just a little bit. It never got old. It never stopped being scary. You'd think she'd be used to it by now, but that wasn't the case. "It's been a while since..... I just. I feel like I've given up hope. Who knows if he's still even alive. More than likely he didn't make it......" she said softly. ”If you’re comfortable sharing some details, there’s the chance I may know someone who can help a bit.” She silently nodded at his words and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I don't really know if there's anything anyone can do at this point. I do appreciate you offering your help though. Maybe there could still be a chance that he's somewhere in the city," there was a slightly pause. "I just don't know why, if he's still alive, he wouldn't be able to find me." It had always bugged her that he would just literally poof off the face of the planet. There was always some part of her that almost wished she would see his spirit if he was dead. Just to give herself some closure. Just to know what exactly had happened. ”So, y’know how I told you earlier that this was a parking lot next to the house?" Her eyebrows rose as she listened to the rest of his words and her eyes slid over to him as she pulled into the parking lot, finding a safe space to park. She put the vehicle into park and turned the ignition off. "So, just wondering what exactly you would have done if we hadn't crossed paths tonight," she asked jokingly as he got out of the car. She smiled and opened her door, getting out of the car and going around the other side to him in a hurry. She looked at him as he stood outside of the car and still smiled at him softly, putting the keys into her front pocket. Slowly she went over to him and stood by his side. "Alright you drunk, let's do this. So we can get you inside," she said as she slowly moved her arm slightly around his lower back. She remembered how he had reacted earlier to her movements and didn't know if he would react that way again. So she figured the best course of action was to take it nice and slow. No sudden movements. Kind of like how a terrified dog is and how you have to be slow to get them to trust you.
  24. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    “You’re a shifter. Is that what you’re telling me?” mmm….. sort of? Head tilted looking for a better way to explain. She had come across shifters on this world and that wasn’t exactly what she was. Her "true" form was her demon form. On her world she had been able to sustain long durations out of the water as an ambassador to the land tribes. It was a rare ability among her kind but it had never come with legs. That was something this world had given her. Maybe now she was a shifter? You know….the more you are bitter and angry with these waters…. the more strongly they will ignore your call. He didn’t like her pressing it. That much was apparent in the grouch lines that darkened the corner of his eyes but for some reason she wanted him to know… to understand. She too had no control at first over these waters, but the period was brief as panic subsided and she stopped trying to force the oceans to listen the way her own had. She had to learn their rhythm and teach them hers. That only came with calm…. not force. “The waters here are apparently too weak to do what I tell them. A lot of things in this world are disappointing.” Head shook at his calm words as the unsettling eyes remained tilted up at him, quietly studying. You are wrong. These waters are powerful and wild…but coy as well. They have not had those that could call it. Now that they do, they can be stubborn in answering when they don’t like the tone of askance. They don’t understand the way the ours did what it is to be in unison. The Irish lilt delicately cadenced her words, the accent the only way she had learned and therefore knew how to speak the language of this world. He seemed keen to ignore them either way but she persisted. Hand reached out, hovering under his fingers. The globe on her finger churned, the water rapidly spinning without any real thought on her part before she stopped pulling it, letting it fall still to instead listen to him. It was the only remnant of her world she had and it reminded her how easy the waters sought to be one when they were called. It was not his world, but she suspected the waters would recognize another manipulator just the same. “The lighthouse is a Siren. It’s tricking people in that direction that really don’t know the exact location. Runs straight into shoals. They’re trying to ground incoming ships.” He kept pressing forward despite her invitation. Siren?... Head tilted as she looked out once more in the direction of the light, frown whispering over the brow. It was a term she had heard in Ireland in reference to… what was it again?...women that tempted. tlhu'moH bIqDep?......a umm…. The harsh language had nothing like it on this world so the sound always seemed to cleave through the air. The pucker over the brow ghosting age as she sought the words to match her own language. ….. um…. seduction witch…? “The ‘lighthouse’ is purposely drawing boats into shoals. I know our heading is correct. Question is… are they keeping travelers and themselves safe by only having people that know the exact location safe, vice versa... may have been taken over and now pulling those that know where it is in to return to Ireland, or worse.” It was an interesting deduction. Eyes lifted to the roof as the tap brought motion above. Flash of silver snapping her eyes back to him and the blades that lashed to his forearms. He was readying his crew for battle. “We’ll know when we get there.” There was a slow breath in her chest that oozed out different than every breath before. She couldn’t run from a fight here. She couldn’t hide from the hate on restless waters. Out here…. she would have to fight and then all secrets would be lost.
  25. Durion Caranthir

    Fae Fury is coming......

    The seafarer stood like a rock above his ship and yet flowed with its every move. Very elven actually. Rustle of wings told him that the caravans were on their way before the avian even mentioned it. The land quickly whispering to him the same. My crew is fine, you need to explain exactly what is going to happen here and I will transfer that information to my passengers before one person steps off my ship. After they’ve settled in, I will check in with each and make sure they want to stay or return with me. He highly doubted the crew were "fine". The journey down from the northern lands was rough going and not exactly many ports between to restock on supplies. Smirk tickled at the ageless expression. The seafarer was mistrustful still. The faint shrug clearly gave up any desire to fight with the man. Two miles inland is the halfway house. A stop over for a big meal and to learn of their options, which are two from there. Hands folded behind his back as he walked up the dock a ways, eyes peering a moment through the trees in the direction of the house before glancing back at the man perched along the rail. Well fed they may take the bus down to Rio. The city is dominated by outworlders. A bit noisy and too much….concrete…. for my taste…. Nose wrinkled a bit in his distaste before he continued with another faint shrug. …. but they can look for work there and set up a life there if that is how they want to go. No guarantee of an easy transition but at least a guarantee that they are not hunted there… not reviled. The other option is they take the truck the rest of the way into my lands deep in the jungle. There they are guaranteed a home for each family and a job to get them on their feet. It is community living… they find a role to provide to the community in addition to working for the company. Hand waved absently… Tending the garden….the animals… something of that nature. In this manner their home and food is without cost and the salary from their job they can retain for a future. Some choose to save and then move on, find a place out in the world less secluded than my lands…. some… never use the money and instead choose to remain. Ebony silk whipped sideways on the ocean breeze, a hint of a frown as there was a distinct chill in the wind. Eyes watched the northern horizon as he added.. Stay a week…. a year… a lifetime…. choice is theirs. Murmur was a bit distracted as his questions were bubbling up once more. Cerulean slid back to the man above. I get help that can be trusted not to blow up my home…. they get a chance to get on their feet in a place where they are safe from the outside world…. A bit of mirth returned to the bright eyes as the lips quirked upward on one side, head tilting slightly. Satisfied?
  26. Brandon Valosa

    Roll With It

    Brandon’s head tilted as he saw the man’s antics and the catapult over the bar from his question. He chuckled and shook his head trying his best not to laugh at the man. He glanced over at the blonde sitting next to him and grinned as he muffled the humor that wanted to escape. "I'm so glad both of you know what that is and have something to bond over.” "I guess the way to a man's heart really is his stomach.” The man nodded as he chuckled, “well we do like to eat but there are other ways to our hearts.” He watched as Boone disappeared into the kitchen and listened to the other man’s banter as he started to cook and the aroma escaped into the bar area. “We need to get someone who can make this stuff… besides me.” Brandon looked over the Blue and just shook his head, “not sure if that’s necessary,” he took a breath in, "there probably isn’t that much demand for potato pancakes.” When the bar owner asked how many he wanted Brandon started to speak and looked over at Altheia and held up four fingers but didn’t get the words out before Boone made his own decision as to how many they would get. He chuckled and looked down for a moment before looking back up, “smells really good.” He saw the woman blush as Boone said she had slept over and hadn’t eaten his pancakes. Brandon chuckled and blushed himself. He hadn’t thought Altheia lived a chased life finding out she had been with the man and her reaction had brought about even more humored and yet a little uncomfortable. "I.... I didn't have that bad of a hangover. I mean.... I've had worse hangovers..." "Probably will have a worse hangover...." “I got some secrets on that,” Brandon said with a grin trying to distill her discomfort, “but food does help.” "You Irish mate?" "Yeah, are you Irish." The aroma was making his mouth start to water and was taken off guard a little by their question but he quickly, “Tell you what, you come out with those boxties and I’ll let you decide.”
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    MODERN FANTASY COLLABORATIVE WRITING RP CATERING TO OLDER PLAYERS (25+) WITH A SLOWER, MORE RELAXED PACE. IN 2010, THE WORLD DRASTICALLY & PERMANENTLY CHANGED BY WHAT BECAME KNOWN AS THE MULTIVERSE RESONANCE EVENT. IN A SINGLE BREATH, OUR WORLD CROSSED WITH AN UNKNOWN NUMBER OF ALTERNATE UNIVERSES, BLEEDING INTO EACH OTHER. EARTH WAS SUDDENLY A REALM OF MAGIC AND MONSTERS. THE STORY IS CENTERED IN NEW YORK CITY BUT EXTENDS ACROSS THE WORLD. IT BLENDS A VARIETY OF GENRES; A MOSAIC OF OVERLAPPING REALMS INCLUDING ELVES, LYCANTHROPES, ALTERED HUMANS AND,OF COURSE, MAGIC.  

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