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OOC Discussion / Re: Glass Shards
« on: January 31, 2019, 01:48:16 pm »
Oooooh! Love it! So the bastard will be new to The Garden??

I'm thinking the "kids" in The Garden range in age from like 14 to 22? Pretty much sent there until their parents decide to bring them into their own circles and drama.

OOC Discussion / Glass Shards
« on: January 27, 2019, 12:38:08 am »

Glass Shards
A decadent, post-apocalyptic, neon-Victorian, dystopian, romance-murder mystery.

Five towers in a wasteland of sandstorms and lightning is all that remains of life in the world. Built before the end. Once owned, then governed—now ruled like kingdoms in the sky.

The floors are counted from the tops down, Floor One being the penthouse and often the last dozen or two buried under the sands. Each Tower drills straight down into a water line and has factories and gardens near the bottom, citizens stacked up a physical hierarchy all the way to the thrones at the top.

Miniature kingdoms. Most of the royals and aristo families have never even been below the twentieth floor. It’s been generations since the world outside was destroyed—history reduced to grim fairytales of monsters and moving darkness swallowing the world. Sandstorms, ash rain and neon lightning often sweep past their plexiglass windows.

Libraries, gardens, cafes and clubs are alive and well and keeping the Upper Five busy. The families owning and ruling each tower consider themselves royalty, their children princes and princesses, and hand out titles to those around them. It’s been a hundred years since the last tower war—a dark decade of bloody betrayal and distrust. Now the Upper Five are at peace, as much as they’ve ever been anyway, and in an effort to promote those connections and good will they send their children to be schooled together in The Garden.

The Garden was originally designed as a meeting place for the Upper Five—a ten story complex of suites, parlors, and ballrooms suspended between the five towers and bridged directly to each. It has been renovated to house the teens and young adults of the aristo families. Sent to live and study there for most of the year, some believe The Garden is just an excuse for the upper families to get rid of their heirs until they’re needed.

Along with royals, the children of the best social climbers have even been admitted, sent to make connections and ensure the elevated status of their families in years to come.



OOC chatter and character sheets to be added below! <3

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: October 02, 2018, 04:21:56 pm »
Margo had been quite enthralled in his story until he snatched her up and pulled her onto his lap. Her round face pulled into a gasp of alarm and outrage, for a moment to surprised to even react more than that dropped jaw and wrinkled nose.

Emerald didn’t seem to notice, looking pleased instead by his news on the rising cult. “Well, as least Florian won’t be as dull of Catori proved to be,” he said, eyeing Agatha sideways though she ignored him. He had blamed her for agreeing to go to Catori—where there was nothing but murderers playing Born. At least cultists and princes would make for fun prey. No one ever died as enjoyably as the pious and the powerful. That look on their faces when they fell, surprised, like they didn’t know they too could die. If the greatest, oldest, dragons could fall—so could any man or woman. One of the best parts of being a Witch Hunter was the right to execute indiscriminately. It didn’t matter if the traitor was a baker or a prince—they were all subject to the discretion of a Hunter. Of course, not Emerald. Not yet. He was still indentured. The decision to execute would be Agatha’s. But, luckily for him, she had never been one for mercy.

Margo finally slapped her hand across the stranger’s cheek when he bounced her. It wasn’t a ferocious slap, her soft glove batting his cheek as she awkwardly pulled herself from him and pushed into her corner again. “Really!” she protested, cheeks red and eyes flashing to the other two as though they should have saved her. Emerald supposed she might think that, with some notion of chivalry at play. But both Hunters knew the difference between danger and teasing.

“Are you to be our guide?” Emerald asked.

“What a lovely idea,” Agatha added enthusiasm to his dry query.

“Hardly,” Margo mumbled, arms crossed and cheeks still bright red.

“Allyseus isn’t expecting us for another couple days. We could do a bit of sight seeing and still arrive uncomfortably early,” Agatha spoke as though negotiating, as though the other two didn’t belong to her in some way and weren’t subject to her unilateral decisions. She liked the illusion of democracy. “Where should we leave your dragon?” she asked Keyzer as though it had been decided.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: September 26, 2018, 01:08:04 pm »
Margo had been holding her breath from the moment he stuck his face close to hers until he said Dragon Born. She blinked, big brown eyes, fingers flexing against her bundle of knowledge against her chest and plump body wedged into corset, tights, and layers of skirts, actually leaned toward him. “Dragon Born? Really? There have been rumors, of course, but it’s been ages since anyone’s seen one. Have they found any or just victims? Do you think the bodies are still available for examination?”

Emerald grinned wide at that. “Terrified of everything living but not dead things,” he noted about the short woman across from him.

Margo ignored him, her lip curling at the mention of a cult.

Agatha listened carefully, managing to hold back a hunter’s grin at mention of trouble. A guild. It gleamed in her eyes though, meeting his gaze when it slid to her. Her poison? “Traitors,” she said. “My poison is traitors and rooting them out.” Why be coy when she hoped to get information? She had an edict from the capitol, the mark of a Witch Hunter, and the authority to save Florian from itself. “The Capitol has heard about Florian’s Dragon Born and seen fit to send Miss Adden,” she nodded to Margo. “to take a look.” It was the tip of an iceberg. Margo was to document and to testify when it was done—whatever happened next. Witch Hunters were rare, but they had quite the legend—not always heroic but definitely feared and their status aloud them to turn their inquest on even the highest officials of a city.

She doubted the princes of Florian would be happy to see them, though most smiled toothily and tried to direct the investigation. They’d spent four months in Catori only to find that the supposed Dragon Born was a hunter who had lost his mind on the blood, blacking out in the night and savagely murdering people in the streets with a set of false dragon teeth. It had been quite the disappointment.

“More often than not, Dragon Born are just stories,” Agatha assured. “But, as I said, we wouldn’t mind a guide. We’re supposed to be staying with a Prince—”

“Allys,” Margo inserted the name before Agatha even had to falter.

“Heard of him?” Agatha continued.

“Or her…” Margo reminded. Prince was just a title after all, a throwback to fairytales.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: September 24, 2018, 11:40:05 am »
Margo hugged her books and tablet to her chest, eyes bulging when the man got into their carriage. She wedged herself into the corner, back straight and gaze running up and down him, seeming to bulge more with every bit of grime and blood she took in.

“This is Margo, my personal library of sorts,” Agatha introduced flippantly, settling into her seat. The carriage whirred to life, rising a little off the ground before starting forward on the path again. “And Emerald.” She gestured to the lithe bodied man beside her. He was dressed much like her, somewhere between practical and formal, all black with firm layers and fine tailoring.

Margo pressed her plush mouth into a tight scowl at the other woman. She wanted to snap at her, to accuse her of endangering them by inviting strange murderous riffraff onto the carriage—but she couldn’t exactly do that without saying it out loud in front of said riffraff.

She eeped in alarm when the man spoke to her. “Book learning?” she sputtered. “Out there? Oh, well, that’s wonderful. Then you may know as much as the beasts…”

Agatha’s upper lip pulled up to hiss at the woman warningly. “He comes from Florian and likely knows more of the city than you do.”

Emerald lifted heavy lashes, eyes like the stone he was named for glinting out, made brighter with a bit of that witch tech woven into his retina. His red lips pulled at one side into a little smile at Margo’s discomfort before considering the stranger. He’d worked for Agatha long enough to stop being surprised by her whims. He sat up a little taller, arms sliding from the firm cross against his chest while he slept down into a casual collapse in his lap. “Business,” he answered first and stretched out one arm, offering his hand. “Your name was? Agatha has enough fortune not to care about manners, but I would be remiss to go a whole carriage ride with a man I didn’t properly meet.”

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: September 19, 2018, 02:12:58 pm »
Agatha smiled easily when he didn’t recognize her for a witch hunter. They were far from the capitol city and Florian had never undergone a purge. She supposed there had only been a handful of witch hunters to pay it visit over the last century—standing on ceremony mostly. It was considered an honor to aristo families to be greeted by a witch hunter, some source of proof that they’re bloodlines have been looked upon with approval by the capitol.

“I’m afraid I’m new to the area,” she admitted. “I heard stories about this city—taken by the dragons and swarming with them—and thought I’d take a look before going on to Florian.” It was true enough. Most of the stories involved giant beasts setting upon the city long ago. The ones she’d read about though told of the insidious presence of dragons that weren’t completely formed—something between human and dragon—something more dangerous than either.

“I might be able to help get it back to the city, if that’s where you’re going?” she smiled because unless he kept a shed out here in the woods and liked to decorate it with rotting bodies, there wasn’t anywhere else he could be going. “I’m sure you’ll be paid well for that beast, but I’d rather have a guide. As I said, I’ve never been to Florian and wouldn’t mind hearing about it from a local.”

She took the handful of steps left between them and offered her hand. It was gloved, the crest of the capitol city in the palm of soft black leather. “My name is Agatha. I can get your dragon to the city in exchange for some local gossip on the way?”

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: September 15, 2018, 11:24:05 pm »
Margo continued to lean out the window of the carriage, eyes narrowed on trees she couldn’t see through. “Did you hear that?” she said in a sharp whisper. It wasn’t the first booming sound or shake of the ground since Agatha left.

“No. I can’t hear anything over your heavy breathing and stupid gasps.” Emerald had not moved, eyes still closed to the world and head tipped back into his corner, legs crossed like his arms as though he were a strange corpse laid out for viewing. She wished he was a corpse sometimes…

“What if she needs help?” Agatha pressed.

Emerald huffed a little breath that could have been a laugh. “Well, if she dies I’ll get a promotion and since she hasn’t summoned me…” his voice trailed off as though this meant he should be napping and not talking.


The Chaser put on a show, though she wasn’t sure he intended to. A quick scan of the surrounding area confirmed that he had no team—fallen or lying in wait. Her head turned to follow his careen through the air, surprised when he looked back at her for a flicker of a second with the spread of arms as though to shout, “what the hell are you standing around for?”

Agatha grinned, eyes flaring with purple light. He didn’t have time to look at her again or yell whatever he might have in mind. She jumped down from her ledge and landed in a walk, following the trail of thick blood his dragon left. She didn’t step in it. She didn’t usually mind a mess, especially on a hunt, but she was still planning to make an entrance in the city today and upset the local officials and aristos. She’d like to save her bloodier image for when things became more serious and she knew exactly who she was looking to scare. As it stands, she hadn’t been to Florian since she was a child.

The beast made horrible sounds ahead, half inside a building, thrashing, claws digging up street.

Her witch tech lit up the dragon in thin gold lights, outlines brighter in open wounds. The Chaser was a darker blue, pulsing with his own gold, fainter where he had contaminated his muscles and brighter where he had consumed something for the boost. There were only two ways to kill monsters, dragon contamination or witch tech. Both could go terribly wrong for very different reasons. Both could make them into the monsters in the end—if they found themselves among the unlucky.

She hadn’t drawn a weapon, shoulders relaxed on her casual walk toward his kill. She pushed the hood of her jacket back when he made his way around the dragon and in her direction. Her hair was pale, white like her skin, and pulled back from her face into a braid. The edges of tattoos peeked up from her collar on the left side, reaching up her neck. “I would not have bet money in your favor,” she spoke first, stopping on the street beside a puddle of blood. “I would have lost. Do you stalk this area often?”

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Our Blood in Light
« on: September 13, 2018, 10:30:08 am »
The carriage jostled under mounting speed, zipping through the deep forest enroute to the grand city of glass and steal. The carriage itself was sleek black metal, sculpted with curling corners and the shapes of faces in the gleaming surface. Air rippled around the large human container, propelled forward, hovering over the ground with a driver sitting at the front, masked and hooded to withstand the winds, gloved hands pushing at levers.

“At this rate we’ll arrive days early…” Emerald said in his usual low voice, lean body leaned into one corner of the carriage seat. He had his arms folded across his chest, head back and eyes closed. If he didn’t speak, he might look like he slept.

“We did leave a day early…” Margo added timidly from the other bench, chewing her lip.

Agatha looked out the window at the smears of forest rushing by. “It wouldn’t be an inquisition if we didn’t surprise them,” she said. There were rumors going around about the grand city of Florian. Rumors of burned bodies, half-eaten. Rumors of sudden heat waves and rumbles but no dragon in sight. No, there had not been a dragon in Florian in a century. But Agatha knew that not all dragons came scaled from birth. That was a rumor too, wasn’t it? Every few centuries humans gave birth to what became new dragons. Every few centuries, they seeded the fall of a city without even realizing it.

Somewhere out here, in the thick of the wild trees, was a city like that—one taken by monsters and abandoned by humanity. They had been sent from the capital to make sure Florian did not meet the same fate—that the last great city in this forest did not fall to fire.

Something loud cracked through the trees. The carriage rocked sideways before the driver brought it to a stop on the rough road.

Margo eeped in her seat, brown eyes going huge and hands clutching her stack of books and tablet to her chest. “Is it a dragon?”

Emerald’s red mouth pulled into a grin, eyes still closed. “How can you be afraid of them still?”

“How can you not be?” she shot back in a seething whisper.

Agatha pushed the carriage door open and stepped out. The driver leaned over to look down at her, his beaked leather mask pointing at her. “It’s the dragon city, Lady. Chasers hunt bounty there.”

She looked off into the trees. A silver light circled the air around one eye, growing into a rune that spun as her vision searched beyond foliage. The witch tech was expensive, subtle and hard to temper. Her parents had been decided on her life path early on. Witch Hunter had sounded like something exciting when she was a child. She’d thought she’d be hunting actual witches—not a witch hunting snakes in human skin.

“Agatha?” Margo whispered, poking her head out of the carriage. Her big brown curls were barely pulled back from her heart-shaped face. Everything about Margo was soft and round. Even her voice. She was a keeper of information, dedicated to logging history and not much else.

“Wait here,” Agatha barely said before vanishing from the road. It looked like vanishing to Margo anyway. She rolled her arm through the air, sparking circles of runes and slipping through them, folding space and popping out further along into the forest. One. Two. Three. She was in the city. Another boom. Clouds of smoke ahead, barreling out of a building half crumbling. Out of the rising smoke came the body of a dragon. Not Immortal but not something to sneer at either. She expected to see the group of Chasers pushing it back, but when she came to a stop, she spotted only one.

She crouched at the edge of a low rooftop, already slanted in decay with a tree growing out one side. He lit up from within and the monster roared, baring toward him in a charge. Agatha touched the curved blade tucked against her ribs, gloved fingers ready to pull it, but hesitating. Was he in trouble? Or was this glory? It was hard to tell with heroes. The best triumph came when death was near. She’d been raised on legends just like everyone else. Her body leaned forward, ready to tip right off the edge and leap that last distance.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: February 17, 2018, 01:22:14 am »
Bam! And, by the way Verse, I CRAZY loved Ebelt freaking out on Hiev and Hiev being sooooooo transparent!

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: February 17, 2018, 01:21:02 am »
Grayson grinned easily when Apollo came upon him, easy delight on his features but bitter contempt in his heart. He turned toward him, looking him over pointedly. “I made friends at the party,” he explained, secretive about his lover though the state of his hair, his lack of a shirt, and the little trail of hickies yet to fade on his long neck were testament to the reality of that lover. “I was looking for a snack… thought not to wake the staff since they’re not my own and that just seems rude,” he continued, moving closer to the other man. “but I fear I’m lost.”

Ebelt rushed past them, not even pausing to take note of who was loitering in his halls. Grayson quirked a brow and turned his gaze to Apollo once more. “Are they still upset? It’s not like someone doesn’t try to kill Wicker every day. I’m sure Hyacinth will get over a couple Roses having a go at it.” A couple, he said, because he liked this rumor of Ebelt throwing poison at the champion. Winners were winners no matter how they got to the top—thrones had taught them all that lesson.


The greenhouse was bright, the lights on the plants certain that it was day. It was easy to lie to plants. It wasn’t so easy to lie to Gloria. The winding stone paths lead through lush greenery and brilliant blooms, many rare, a few considered extinct in the world outside Versailles.

She had a spot in the middle she liked most, with a little sitting area for tea and her work table to the side with little pots of almost plants to the side of mortars of powder and jars of dried leaves and, of course, the sheers. She heard the door on the far end open and close, her pale hand stilling over a bloom she’d been tempted to pluck. She listened to the steps until she was sure it was Ebelt. The bloom would live another day. She turned from it to greet her king when he arrived, ducking into the slightest of curtseys still impeccably poised. “I had hoped you would get some sleep.”

Jewl was slouched in one of the metal chairs at her sometimes-teatable. There was no tea today. Blood and saliva dribbled from his mouth, wetting his slacks where it gathered on her knee. “I didn’t need to bind him. I think he wanted to show his loyalty to Rose by not struggling. He was quite remorseful for the trouble he caused.”

She’d pulled up her white hair since the party, in a messy bun atop her head, with round, silver, thin-rimmed glasses on her little nose. She’d abandoned her gown from the ball for a white dress with barely-there straps, probably not wanting to risk Jewl messing up the other. Funny, since it wasn’t like she’d ever wear it again anyway. Still, Gloria was not one for unnecessary stains.

Sometimes Gloria thought, that if she’d had a mother, the woman would have said “waste not, want not” and she would have taken it to heart. Looking at Ebelt, that same heart wondered what she’d wasted to be left so wanting in life now. She’d gone over their time together, his climb to the throne, again and again. She still didn’t know what had gone wrong.

She was white in a sea of deep greens and dark soil and gray flagstones. She was a flower in her garden, but she was the flower wielding the sheers. She sighed like her night had been long and leaned back against her work table. “It seems Jewl thought he could be the one to kill Wicker. Not for any grand scheme or story, but just for the glory of it—the rush.” She sounded pointed unimpressed. “The boy had a bit much to drink, Ebelt.”

She hesitated, watching him. “I hear Hyacinth thinks you poisoned Wicker. Vinnia is quite set on it. Do you want me to do something about it? Put attention elsewhere or maybe find someone else for them to blame?” She looked thoughtfully at Jewl then before wrinkling her nose at the idea. It would still be Rose they pointed their calloused fingers at. Her head turned up to her old friend once more, her king. “Wicker was close with Alios tonight. It would turn some eyes to Jasmine and likely confuse everyone. He probably wouldn’t be punished for it, since Luna wouldn’t be certain,” she offered carefully.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: February 16, 2018, 11:14:16 pm »
Oh my gosh. I'm the worst player of all time. But I'm going to post like a total jerk, super late. Probably tonight.

Welcome Noobel Blewd! / Re: Not Exactly New
« on: February 16, 2018, 11:12:10 pm »
BEAU! I was just thinking about you! How have you been? Time really does move by sometimes. Like how I disappeared for a week (work week, I have crazy shifts). The book is out and hopefully the second will be out this summer. Fingers-crossed. It's turned in anyway, so it's just editing now.

And Krystal! You're so sweet to throw a link out for me! <3<3<3

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: February 02, 2018, 11:58:04 am »
Grayson lingered in the Rose Garden long after all his house had gone for the night. He stayed in the company of a Rose Prince, sneaking out when the other boy was fast asleep to slip through the halls toward the king’s chambers. Royals kept close quarters here. Idella preferred to surround himself with knights over princes and princesses. Trash, the lot of them.

He pushed white hair from his face and back, unruly at this hour, and hoped to find Heiv still awake. He had considered sending the king an email, or even more classically a letter, but Grayson preferred to talk. He liked to see expressions and hear the tremble of a voice in reply. It gave away truths and lies. His slacks clung to his hips, shirt and jacket left behind and along with his shoes. If stopped, he could simply say he’d wandered off from his lover to get something from the kitchen and gotten lost. This wasn’t his garden after all.


Wicker woke.

His voice was in her ear, she was sure of it. He was whispering promise—terrible promises. The kind that were wet with blood on his tongue, painting his teeth, snarled out with vicious bubbles.

She blinked at the ceiling. Not her ceiling. Not any ceiling she knew well. A monitor hummed. Electric whispers all around. She kicked at her covers. Too warm.

He was still at her ear. Still whispering. She turned her head but Hayden wasn’t there in the room. Vinnia slumped in the nearest chair, hugging a coat and head lulled to the side in sleep.

Wicker looked up at the ceiling again, squinting this time. He was there. She could hear him. Oh, the horrible things he promised. He had been so angry when he fell. He had been angry before, but this was something else. This was a dragon come to life only to find itself dying. It was vengeful in its narcissism and she had met that serpent gaze.

She forced herself to sit up. Her head felt too heavy and her clothes weren’t her own. A hospital gown? Really? She pulled the needle and tape from her arm. She was too warm. It was too warm in here. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she paused again.

“Are you coming? Are you going to finish it?” Hayden was laughing. She looked up at the ceiling again but cringed away from it. It was in her head, wasn’t it? Great. She really had gone mad.

She stood, pulled on her jeans and grabbed her jacket. The gown was half tucked in, hanging on her frame, and her boots left behind. She pulled at the pockets of her jacket until she’d fished free a cigarette case and shouldered her way through the door and into the hallway of the sleeping hospital.

Sleeping was right. She flipped the case shut, cigarette between her lips, and looked down the narrow hall of slumped Hyacinth guards. To their defense, they had been at a party and most had taken Hadron’s skull to their heads at some point.

She shuffled away, toward the dim hall and empty receptionist desk and far off exit. Cigarette between her lips she fumbled with her jacket, trying to find a lighter when she dropped the leather garment. She swore softly around the cigarette but before she could bend over to scoop up her jacket and try again, shoes were hurrying toward her. Wicker leaned against the desk, back to the rooms and the sleeping guards.

The young man frowned at the sight of her, his steps hurrying. “Why are you out of bed? They said you would be asleep for at least a day after they gave you the antidote for that poison…” Mein kept his voice low, big brown eyes looking her over gravely before considering the sleeping guards on duty. Even this kid new to look unimpressed with the older students slacking on the job.

Mein was one of Wicker’s best knights in training. He had been working for her for almost a year now, since he first came into the Gardens. His dark hair was a mess, suit jacket lost and collar unbuttoned.

“Poison?” Wicker asked, only a little bit interested, and gestured toward her unlit cigarette impatiently.

He jumped a little when he noticed, small hand diving into the pocket of his slacks to retrieve a gold lighter. He flipped it open, struck the flame, and held it up while she breathed in smoke. “You were poisoned at the Ball. Everyone is whispering about it. They say it was Ebelt, though the blame could be put on the Chrysanthemum blade he was wielding and not on him personally.

Wicker nodded, taking the cigarette from her lips to exhale smoke in the hospital. “And I feel like someone got stabbed…”

“Fern,” Mein nodded. “Jewl, a Rose Knight, tried to stab you and she pushed you out of the way.” A little shame colored his cheeks then, lips pressed and eyes shifting to the floor.

“Did she die?” Wicker asked casually, because she was pretty sure she knew the answer and was mostly just changing the subject before the kid started apologizing for not saving her from enemies she didn’t know she had.

“No. No, she’s resting. They say she’ll be back at the Garden in the morning. You should probably get back in bed…”

Wicker nodded, stooping to grab her jacket because her bed as at home in Hyacinth and not here. “Idella?”

“His majesty is at the Garden.”

“And did you get that thing I asked you to look after?”

Mein stood a little taller, still shorter than Wicker, and smirked with a glint of mischief in his eye. “Ebelt’s sword is in your chambers. Did you want the chrysanthemum blade as well? The Roses have that one still…”

Wicker scoffed. “Why would I want Phellar’s weapon?”

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 25, 2018, 10:03:11 pm »
Wicker found herself leaving the ball, arms slung over shoulders on either side of her. Vinnia was on her right, arm around her waist, while the guy on her left, Marble, was carrying most of her weight. “Are we leaving?” She tried to twist around, to look back. Shit, she felt wasted. Everyone looked really serious and she had a bad feeling she’d somehow fucked up the ball. It wouldn’t be the first time but still, usually she at least knew it.

She caught sight of Alios and started to reach for him, twisting back more but Marble caught her ribs and hoisted her forward again, Vinnia grabbing at her reaching hand. “Stop it. We have to get you out of here,” Vinnia hissed low. She sounded worried, really worried, not just her usually nagging worried. Maybe something really was wrong. Oh yeah, Fern was stabbed. Wicker sunk against Mable’s side and let them steer her out the doors and toward the cars.


Idella found Fern’s protests comforting. She was still ordering the newbies to stand upright. “You need to tell me what happened,” he said lowly to the knight in his arms. Someone had already brought his car around. “And if you know why Wicker is a damn mess already. She was dueling just fine twenty minutes ago…”

One of the younger knight-hopefuls opened the passenger door and Idella placed Fern easily in the seat. He paused, looking at the flood of others exiting the party. Vinnia was shouting at people to get out of her way and making a line toward his car. Idella pitched a brow. “Take her home. I’m taking Fern to the infirmary,” he ordered, nudging his chin toward another car. And he didn’t want Wicker puking in his car. It wasn’t often they went to the infirmary but considering all the smashed noses in their house tonight, their own little room of medical supplies would be wiped out.

Vinnia’s lips were pressed, head shaking once. “She has to go to the hospital.”

Idella frowned. It wasn’t like the duchess to overreact when it mattered. “Wh-”

Vinnia hissed at him—at him!—and pulled open Wicker’s jacket now that they were standing beside his car. The cut on her ribs looked bad, not because it was deep or wide, but because it oozed dark blood and seemed to be reaching outward into her body with dark fingers. “What is that?”

“She’s been poisoned,” Vinnia said quietly. Marble waited for their king to nod for him to open the back door and start maneuvering the barely conscious champion onto the backseat. “It was there after her duel with…” Vinnia bit her lip, looking from Idella to Fern in the front seat. She squelched her urge to fuss over the other woman because Fern was still looking very much in command of herself and not at all likely to welcome it.

Idella nodded once and nudged his chin toward the backseat. “Get in then,” he ordered the duchess to climb into the backseat with the two knights already wedged in there, closed Fern’s door and rounded his car for the driver’s seat. How had everything gone so wrong so fast?


Jewl had done the only thing he could and taken whatever abuse Ebelt dealt out, not fighting back when pinned to the floor but persisting in his drunken mumbles and complaint. “I didn’t do anything they weren’t doing. Chrysanthemum and Hyacinth are allowed to ruin the party with their brute antics, why can’t we throw in a little Rose thorns to break them up?” He let the whining ramble, hoping it all fed into a look of drunkin foolishness he could pretend not to remember tomorrow.

Ebelt shoved him toward Gloria and he almost winced, back straightening under her gaze but head down and to the side with real shame now. “Of course. Almi can see to the guests making it out and that our own are looked after. You should retire for the night, rest.”

With a sharp jab of her chin in one direction she ordered the suspect knight away from the ball and toward more private Rose quarters. He managed to drop his head further, no longer for show, and walked.

Gloria managed a short curtsy for the king and a duck of her head that was so well practiced, it wouldn’t even look bitter. “Good night, Your Highness.”

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 25, 2018, 03:57:25 pm »
ohmygod I couldn't wait any longer so, Ven, you got stabbed. I'm sorry. But I'll treat you like a princess!

lol and I think this means this epic party is finally winding down... which is good, cus now we can have the fall out and blackmail and threats and obviously now a huge issue between Rose and Hyacinth...

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 25, 2018, 03:55:33 pm »
Gloria almost stopped breathing when he asked if she’d ever consider being queen. Her pulse quickened and her perfect smile faltered, a little more real, a little more tired. “There was a time when I thought much of it,” she confessed quietly, like the truth of it might shame her, though those pale eyes still watched him. “You know I would do anything to help you.” But the dissatisfaction was there, because she had never wanted to be a queen unless he was the king.

And then ruckus turned into ruin. She turned to the scene when Ebelt rushed for it. Oh, Jewl. Impatient, Jewl.


Almi looked around for Phellar but, not finding him, she shot Idella a stern glare before patting Luna’s hand away, lifting her chin, and wading out into the open floor of knights. She was a princess of Rose, after all, and had put efforts into this gathering.

“Enough!” Her voice raised, tone like a mother—nothing any of them were used to. Her arms crossed and her brow pinched, expression full of displeasure and a little sadness behind that anger. “You’re going to startle the newbies, Hadron. You know very well this isn’t how a duel is done and that balls are not the place for brawling. Not before two in the morning, anyway and even then, it’s done outside…”

And then Fern was shouting out Wicker’s name and launching herself at Jewl. Almi sucked back a gasp, eyes flaring at the sight of a dagger and Ebelt and Wicker collapsing. What on Earth was going on? And where was Heiv?


Jewl managed to smile, pretty mouth a little laugh when he landed on the floor, pushed hard from the side by Fern. He made no immediate move to rise, not realizing just yet where his dagger had ended up. “What? I thought this was how we started duels now? I’m just following Chrysanthemum’s lead…” He gestured with a roll of his wrist toward Hadron and the other knights.

His eye cut to Ebelt, bravado wavering then, until he looked at Wicker. She was trying to stand but her limbs were too unsteady. He’d hate himself every day for missing this opportunity. The scorn of it became her, and he hated her as though she’d been the one to knock him down.

He pulled his smile back into place, looking a little drunk when he leaned back onto his hands on the floor, and finally looked up at Fern. He’d intended to praise her, or maybe challenge her instead for the showmanship. But it wasn’t the sight he expected and color drained from his cheeks, eyes widening. "I-I didn't mean to... She ran into me and..."

Red was spreading in that pretty white fabric.

Idella slid in behind her, arm hovering at her back, ready to brace her if she wavered and sweep her up if she fell. He looked down at the knife, his red hair mingling with her dark. “It’s shallow and to the side. You’re going to be fine.”

Wicker was warm. Too warm. She was on the floor again. Fuck. How many times was she going to be knocked over? She squinted at Ebelt, confusion looking angry and eyes a little foggy. He was groping her all over, but it seemed keenly unpassionate so she tried swatting him away.

She tried to get up but her limbs wobbled, landing her on the floor with him again. Vinnia grabbed at her arms this time, kneeling next to them.

“What did you do?” the duchess hissed at Ebelt, voice still low as she had not yet forgotten his status. She touched Wicker’s cheeks, skin burning, and then pulled at her jacket, dragging it open to expose that little cut on her ribs again. It was still oozing blood. It should have scabbed by now. And dark veins crawled below her pale skin from that razer bite. Vinnia’s eyes widened. “You poisoned her?” Her gaze slashed up, past Ebelt to the would-be assassin. A rose knight. No. But Ebelt had snatched Wicker from the assassin. But that was only after Fern had already exposed the situation. After it was foiled.

Then all thoughts of plots and assassination attempts were forgotten, washed away by the hollowing of shock when her gaze landed on Fern and the little knife in her side. Vinnia stammered before breaking the silence with a scream.

Wicker blinked at the girl, finally pushing her away and forcing her legs to hold her up when she stood. This time it took and she turned to take in the scene everyone else was morbidly inhaling. “Good god, Fern. Did you take a knife for me?” She had to squint to see but that gaze cut angrily to the rose knight still sitting on the floor. She didn’t even know his name. Her teeth clicked and she started for him, vengeance in her heart and the edges of a cruel smile pulling at her lips. And then she gasped, air catching in her throat and body dropping, landing on her hands and knees again, fighting the need to just close her eyes and collapse.

Idella turned to look at her where she landed, his teeth finally mashing. “What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, volume of a king. All of Hyacinth was paying attention now, abandoning friends and drinks and light-heartedness to look on at a mess not even they understood.

He finally caught sight of Heiv then, not looking much better than the rest of them. “Care to explain, Rose King?” he spat across that distance between them before shaking his head in disgust and lifting Fern carefully into his arms. “Someone pick up Wicker,” Idella shouted, walking toward the door. “And don’t let the Roses near her,” he added with biting contempt. A growing fleet of Hyacinths moved after him, draining from the room, several keening in worry for Fern.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 25, 2018, 02:24:43 pm »
Verse! Did you stab Fern? Or rather, did you have Jewl stab Fern? I kind of need to confirm this before I finish my post. lol

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 24, 2018, 10:25:52 am »
I feel like it should go without saying, but if I ever forget to respond to a character, you guys can tell me. I keep adding characters! I love it. ^_^

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 24, 2018, 10:24:48 am »
Grayson managed to film all of it. His favorite part was the bit where a king whimpered and agreed to favor another throne. He hugged his phone to his heart and pressed back into the shadows when Phellar walked by. He’d never loved that wild king more than right then. He slid his phone into his jacket and left the dark halls, the world in his pocket. And he knew exactly what his horrible recording was going to buy him. This party was finally turning up.


Idella laughed lightly when Luna assured him they weren’t making trades for his throne behind his back. He hadn’t really suspected it but her reassurance wouldn’t exactly be worth anything if he had. Jasmine had never shown itself to be interested in backstabbing or deception, but he wouldn’t be a good king if he trusted them overly much. He did notice how Almi blushed and looked away when Luna mentioned the Rose princess being welcome in the Jasmine gardens.

His eyebrow lifted in interest when she suggested they meet.

Almi flushed, eyes widening when she realized she might be overhearing something she wasn’t meant to. She immediately looked away, busying herself with talking to someone else on her other side about the pledges and if there were enough refreshments circulating to appease the hungry crowd of teens.

Idella nodded once to Luna. If he was inclined to believe anyone capable of “good faith this-and-that” it’d be Luna. “Of course. And if you find yourself too busy by the end of tonight,” his gaze slipped to Almi on the girl’s other side. “we can always meet in the morning. My ear is yours.”

A cry came from close by and his attention swung. Almi gasped, hands flying to her mouth when a young guard collapse to the floor before a dozen more launched themselves at Hadron. Almi looked around, as if to find Phellar and plead or maybe even command him to do something about his knight, but he was no where to be seen.

Idella’s chest knotted with emotion when he saw Hadron. It was like loving a shark, that boy. He couldn’t tame him, couldn’t keep him, couldn’t even be near him. He’d never scorned him for leaving them, not even for Phellar. They’d opened something awful inside of him and that awful needed room. Idella couldn’t let it run free in Hyacinth, so how could he complain when it found another place to run?

The part of him that was more knight than king, wished he could have ran with him, just to give him the company while he ravaged the world.

“Most are soft when times are good, Hadron,” Idella said, staring hard at the other boy as he pummeled his head into everyone around him. That floor was fast turning red. Great. At this rate, not one of his house would come home unmaimed from this night. He almost smiled then, wistful and nostalgic.


Gloria smiled just a little for Ebelt, exposing the shades of softest pink along the seam of her lips. “I would be lying if I ever said you did not entertain.” Her smile grew just a little more when he continued to suggest she duel Wicker. Tonight, she just might win if she did. But it would come with a reputation she didn’t really want. She wasn’t looking to sword play with the knights or callous her hands.

She laughed softly when he brought Alios into the mix. “Oh dear, that would be quite conniving of me, don’t you think? To bait her like that? And what would I do if Alios accepted? Surely he’d ruin my dress and you know how easily I bruise.” Her smile pushed into the corner of her mouth then, suggestive in the slightest of ways, recalling times when they had touched rather than exchanged the rare word.

Her eyes grew and head turned when the ruckus of Hadron broke the room again. She let out a sigh, turning to stand at his side, hand touching his arm as if she needed an anchor from the madness of their guests. “Good lord, you’d think Hyacinth and Chrysanthemum were wild animals…”


Wicker regretting pulling on her jacket almost as soon as it was settled on her narrow shoulders. Was it warm in here or was it her? Her cheeks were pink, but most would blame that on the liquor or the duel. An uproar swung her attention to the side, back toward Idella. Her vision blurred for a moment. Fuck, had she had that much to drink already?

Vinnia latched onto her hands, trying to keep her from the inevitable. “They can handle it. Whatever it is.”

Wicker’s vision had focused on the dogpile of knights. A face, bloody, smashed into others with a nightmarish grin. She moved closer without thinking, Vinnia still clinging to her hand. “For once you might be wrong,” she said with a small laugh, a breath really, before squeezing and then shaking off that soft hand. Wicker wasn’t meant for soft things.

She ran that last distance, ducking low to come at his side and launching herself into him. Her arms curled around his chest, dragging him to the floor once more, violence hiding a hug before they collided with marble floor.

While most without a lover in the fray had lost interest, a rose knight lingered along the edges, watching Wicker, fingers inside his jacket, feeling the edge of a knife there. Jewl had imagined putting it in her before. They’d talked about it. Planned for it. But, looking for his opportunity, his heart raced with excitement more acute than anything he’d ever felt before. His gaze flickered once to the side, to see Gloria standing with Ebelt, smiling coldly. Would her smile be real when Wicker fell? Would it be for him?

Half a dozen other knights and guards grabbed at Hadron again, throwing punches and latching onto limbs. “I was wondering when you’d say hello,” Wicker managed out, breath a little more labored than she expected. She was ontop of him for a what felt like a second, riding him like a wild horse with her fingers knotted in the front of his shirt. Another knight tried to get a hold of that head. She shoved one out of the way before the younger girl broke her nose on his lashing temple, effectively freeing his right arm.

He swung at her side, the air heaving up from her lungs. She laughed even when she collapsed to the side, coughing for air and hugging what felt like a cracked rib. “Fuck, Hadron! It’s supposed to be a party…” she mumbled, coughing still when she crawled to her feet. She swayed, almost falling backward into the onlookers.

Vinnia inched from the safety of the crowd on the other side of the brawl at the sight of it. She’d watched Wicker fight all her childhood. Something about this wasn’t right. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth open to drag at air. She blinked like she was struggling to see clearly. Her smile came slowly, delayed maybe.

Wicker managed to get stable on her feet, back against a stranger’s chest in the crowd and attention still trying to focus on the brawl ahead of her.

Jewl held his breath, the blue haired girl against him. He was supposed to look for a subtle moment, or a chance to challenge her to a duel, or even for her to pass out and be left unattended. The knife came easily from his jacket. With all eyes on the fight, on Hadron, who would see him stab her here? How thrilling, to kill someone in front of everyone and have it go unnoticed. He bit his lip and when she took a step forward, to rejoin the fight, his arm thrust at her back.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 24, 2018, 09:20:23 am »
And, Verse, I love the ideas for Gloria. We can kind of makeup/develop their backstory as we go based on that, I think.

And Ven, it seems like Hadron might have derailed their Kingly conversation for a bit... lol

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 24, 2018, 09:18:53 am »
Oh my gosh. I wanna hate him but.. look at him! O_O

Rules, Guidelines & Site Updates / Re: Obviously Something is Wrong
« on: January 24, 2018, 09:12:58 am »
Yeah, everything should be as it was now. It just took them some time to finish transferring it all over.

And Verse, dear patron, NO REFUNDS!

Rules, Guidelines & Site Updates / Obviously Something is Wrong
« on: January 23, 2018, 11:52:50 am »
Okay, so, obviously something is wrong with Para.

The company changed last night. Dior did a back up of the site and contacted the new company to ask if anything would change. They said it wouldn't be a problem but... well. Look at it.

We're on it. Don't panic! Everything is still here it's just ugly.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 22, 2018, 04:08:05 pm »
I'm adding Gloria into my mix! Verse, I'm thinking maybe she could have been close with Ebelt and helped him gain the throne back in the day? Then super disappointed when he gave it to Heiv, but always appearing supportive publicly, so as to maintain the unified image of Rose. But now I'm thinking she's a big old schemer! Maybe plotting with Grayson. Planning to pull weeds from the gardens...

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 22, 2018, 04:01:57 pm »
Her lean muscles jumped when he rushed at her from behind, bracing for an attack, coiling to spring when she reacted. But then his hands were on her ribs, lifting her off her boots.

She sucked a breath just as her lips curled into a grin, body heaved from his hold into the crowd. They lifted and moved her, head turning to catch sight of the rose and his tongue. A dozen sets of hands held her up, pushed her along, handing her off and sweeping her away from the dancefloor and toward another end of the room. The chandeliers above swirled, a dozen lights, shards of diamonds because stars would be too cheap for this crowd. She hissed once, when she thought someone pinched her, head turning to scold but there were too many to choose a culprit and she was soon on the other end of the room, being righted and put on her feet again.

Vinnia managed to be there waiting, hugging her jacket and trying to force her smile into a frown. “Are you injured?”

Wicker laughed, taking her jacket back and pulling on the impossibly soft leather. “I wish.”

Vinnia took a step closer, reaching into Wicker’s jacket but her hand didn’t seek out the lining of her garment. Delicate fingers touched her ribs, brushing the fabric of her tanktop and coming back with a little smear of blood on her digits. She lifted a brow accusingly.

Wicker, honestly surprised, twisted to look for herself before letting loose another laugh. “Hardly a scratch. I probably did it to myself.”


Gloria, Rose Countess, slipped out of the crowd, back turned on the rejoicing Hyacinths. What a disgrace, to see that king killer celebrated in their halls. Gloria discretely pulled the ring from her middle finger, the underside bearing a sliver of a razor soaked in poison. She dropped it in a half empty champagne flute on its way back to the kitchen, disguising the move by picking up a filled one for herself. She could use a drink.

Her gaze strayed briefly to catch one of the Rose Knights looking back at her. She would have nodded once to answer the question in his eye if they weren’t being secretive. Murder had to be sneaky, didn’t it? Instead she sipped and walked about the room.

She smiled, lips almost as pale as the rest of her, white hair a mess of wild curls around her cheeks. A hint of pink along the seam of her lips and the lining of her gray eyes. She walked easily on those stilettoes, sipping her glass and pausing beside Ebelt. She looked around the room, but not at him. If he’d still been king, she would have brought him a glass. If he’d still been king, she might have been more than a countess. She’d never been harsh with him though, not in public. Gloria was always supportive of her throne. The winter rose.

“Did you have to let her win? It might have been a good show to cut her down, even if just a little,” she spoke softly, so that no one else would hear, lips softly forming smiles like they were exchanging casual greetings. Maybe she was asking if he was hurt? Maybe she was mourning his suit?


Idella clapped when his champion won, even if he wasn’t looking anymore. It would appear as though he knew, when clapping began, that his knight had won. Because she would always win. Always was a funny idea. A lie, really. Wicker didn’t always win. Most everyone had seen her lose a duel at some point, and yet, they said always. He supposed it was because she won when it mattered—when thrones were being made or when enemies came calling for her head.

“I fear all Hyacinth has is good knights. Some of us dress up in other roles, but we are what we are.” Modesty made him smile sideways.

The music mellowed out again, the floor reclaimed by dancers. “I do hope I didn’t miss anything terribly interesting while you were meeting with Heiv and Phellar…” Idella watched the floor of dancers, one of his princes casually joining him, handing him a lit cigarette. He turned his cheek suddenly to consider Almi once more before looking at Luna. “Are you trading nobles? If that is something we are doing, I do think I should be included in the negotiations. Who on Earth did you trade for Almi? Don't say Alios. I think Wicker would trade me for Alios...”

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 17, 2018, 01:26:40 pm »
Idella maintained that look of polite attention coated in mild boredom. Kingly as fuck. Scarlett offered plenty of entertaining words for the gossips and proved in her responses why he’d rather cut off a finger than put a crown on her head. Already she tried to steer, manipulate and influence his moves with her little opinions, like he cared what she thought would be most delightful or weak. What did a Cereus know of weakness and strength? Mouths that whispered but took no action, made no move, offered no help.

She seemed to think he wanted to make waves. He raised a brow when she suggested he woo another king and then curled a cheek in disinterest at his options.

He glanced at the duel to see Wicker throwing her jacket to Vinnia, rolling her shoulders before lunging into the fight once more. He waved off the girls. “Have at it. I’ll just have to look for a Queen elsewhere,” Idella said with a little smirk and started away from them, toward Luna.

He reached the other king and the rose princess at the ends of a conversation. His smile grew when he came to stand beside them, watching the duel. “I doubt Wicker or Ebelt would win if they did duel Princess Almi on a catwalk. Though, to their credit, they would certainly try their best.”

Almi turned to the side, eyes widening a little before she smiled politely and gave a little dip of a curtsey. “Your highness, bringing entertainment as always.” It managed to sound like a clean compliment passing her lips, and not the clipped jab it would have been from anyone else.

Idella smiled at that, pale blue eyes regarding the princess before landing on the King. “I find that it follows me, aggressively at times. But you don’t seem lacking in entertainment tonight. And I feel like your pretty knight was at the heart of this,” he lied, because he had pierced the heart of this situation the moment he threw Ebelt’s sword.


Grayson knew too much. It was his saving grace. Knowing things had kept him alive, highly regarded, and at times feared. He’d done terrible things and walked away—with worse things in mind for the future. He rolled his eyes so hard at Wicker’s duel that his body turned, back to the scene and narrow silhouette drifting away into the crowd.

He was sick of watching Hyacinth’s Champion paraded around like she was the star, like every damned party was for her. He’d watched that fight in the garden, the one that had meant the world to the fate of Hyacinth but had been witnessed by so few. She had been a monster that day. Even the clouds had opened up and poured all the water of the seas down on them in an attempt to bring it to an end. Hayden had been magnificent, cruel and biting down to the his last moment. Wicker had been such a little thing then and she’d taken such a beating in that last fight. Grayson had been sure she would die. But somehow the little beast had stayed on her feet and a king had gone to his knees. In front of her. It still haunted Grayson, the wrongness of it all. That day should have gone differently.

And really, it was all Almi’s fault. Whiny, foolish, damsel. Grayson had no room for damsels.

Speaking of… He caught sight of the Rose King slipping away from the party. And then Phellar in pursuit. Grayson didn’t hesitate to follow, shoes made to be quiet.

He leaned his shoulder into a doorframe, neck craned and temple to the cold wood when he took in the developing scene. His skin heated. You’d have to be dead not to be warm, watching that. A better person might have intervened. A discrete person might have walked away. Grayson slid his phone easily from his pocket, snapping a few pictures before filming.


She’d almost had him where she wanted him when instead of leaning back, trapped, he threw himself forward into her attack. Wicker managed to heave out a swear when his weight forced her back. If she’d worn the heels Vinnia had pushed, she might have fallen, but instead it was a twirling, ducking backward swirl that landed her low, sword ready and the lean muscles in her legs eager to launch her up at him again.

The sound of the crowd changed and then so did Ebelt.

Her gaze fixed on the tear in his fine suit. She couldn’t see the wound, though she suddenly wished to lick it. He called the duel and she stood, heaving out a breath that could be nothing but disappointment, before smiling. It was bad form to push a duel when you’d already won. She moved toward him and a few roses inched forward, as though they might come to Ebelt’s aid if Hyacinth went mad. The blade moved through the air, slow enough not to be a true threat and her eyes locked with his. The tip found the hilt at his hip, and she took those last steps in, pushing the sword back into its dark home on his belt.

The Hyacinths in the crowd beat palms to tables, and boots to the floor, rising an melodious throb in the ballroom. Wicker leaned in to Ebelt, still breathing heavily and eyes all his. “Tease,” she whispered, and no one else would hear it over the drumroll of limbs.

She turned from him, giving a man with two weapons her back, and lifted her arms into the air. The Hyacinths in the crowd roared, along with others drawn into the revere.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 15, 2018, 01:15:45 pm »
Idella laughed when Fern presented to idea of Wicker as a queen—already a joke in her mouth. “Somehow I doubt she’d appreciate the role. And I think it might be the death of Vinnia. The girl tries so hard to make her presentable as it is.”

His gaze wandered from the fight to the audience, considering King Luna in the company of Princess Almi. A curious pair. Was that a thing now? Should he try to acquire a queen outside his court? Tempting. The title could easily steal someone from their own court. Aspiration was a popular hobby.

He snorted once at the idea of Grayson. Every year he considered cutting the prince loose of his title but the boy held too many threats in his pockets. He’d made himself a suit of armor out of secrets and scandals, lies close enough to truths to do even more damage. “Your skills at suggestions are seeming thin. Hoping to point out how no one could do the role better than yourself?” He smiled easily, because he knew it wasn’t her intention at all.

“And, though I may agree, it would be nice to see our Wicker go up against Phellar,” his smile faded at the edges, gaze cutting back to the fight. “We all know it wouldn’t end with a slap.”

He turned to follow Fern’s tip of her head toward the advancing Cereus. “Oh, Scarlett, what fortune,” he said, voice dry of any true enthusiasm. “I was just asking my knight here for her recommendations on a Queen. Any suggestions?” Something in his blue eyes gleamed, as though if she said just the right thing then, he might consider her for a crown.


It was all a game in the beginning. He tested and telegraphed and she did the same—not one to cheat unless it was necessary. She sped up their fight when they both had the lay of the land—of each other and the limits of their weapons. Wicker was aware that she was fighting with his sword. It felt strangely intimate and already she had plans to keep it always.

The crowd gasped and shouted around them, calling for blood and cheering with delights when they tangled.

Their blades scraped together, his weight pushing them up and his boot shoving into her stomach to shove her a staggering three steps back. She exhaled her lungs, body bending forward in those steps. She rolled her shoulders out of her jacket, one sleeve at a time, and threw the garment to Vinnia on the sidelines. The girl looked flushed. She hid it well, but she loved when Wicker dueled.

Her thin tanktop hung on her frame, exposed tattoos down her ribs and along her naked arms. She rushed at the once king and tried hard not to think about him that way—about a crown on his head and a thrown under his ass. She tried not to think about the way Hayden’s crown had sounded in the rain, his boots in the puddles turned red, and that grin on his lips.

She met Ebelt in the middle of the room again and forgot Hayden completely. For a moment, there was only him. She grinned, sword beating down at his in fast successions as she worked to push him back, aiming to crowd him into a corner and knee him in the chest, maybe even drag the edge of her sword—once his sword—along one of those arms. The need to mark him was unbearable, rising up in her, hungry.


Almi tensed, clutching at Luna’s arm now as she watched the horrifying show. “Oh, I hate duels… It’s so dangerous. I don’t know how more students don’t get horribly injured. It’s become so common.”

She winced when Wicker took a boot to the stomach, looking away briefly when the knight tossed off her jacket. Almi didn’t notice the tattoos, just the scars, a pang of guilt making her suddenly sick. She didn’t look when Wicker came rushing back at Ebelt and the whole ballroom erupted with excitement.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 04, 2018, 10:03:07 pm »
Oh, he's going to be a monster. I'm going to have him see what happens between Phellar and Heiv, do nothing about it, and then later shame and blackmail Heiv to help him get Hayden awake again....

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 04, 2018, 12:33:16 pm »
Wicker held the side of Alios’ beautiful neck as he gave his performance, deciding then and there that she loved him. Any lesser emotion would be an offense to his efforts and beauty. Who was she to offend? She bent over him, mouth brushing his unmoving lips after his false death. “I will avenge you,” she whispered and then grinned against those petals. “And I will return. Not even death will keep us apart tonight.” Her grin would have split her cheeks then if it could. “Unless it is my own, I suppose.”

With that, she sat up on her knees, over his lap, and looking across the floor at Ebelt. She pressed down her smile while he tried to play his role—not making it easy for her to keep from smirking. “Jealous fiend! How dare you steal this virgin light from our gardens!” Another set of giggles because she was perpetuating the most absurd of their lies—a thousand times more absurd than the one where they pretended he was dead.

She jumped to her feat, still in the chair. “He was never yours!” Her duels rarely started with false theatrics, not that they lacked drama, but she found that she quite enjoyed this. She suspected it wouldn’t hold long once they actual fighting started. The promise of that fight was all that made her leave Alios’ lap, because, as she’d confessed to him, she was never sure which she enjoyed more.

She leapt off the chair, hand reaching out to wrap her fingers around the hilt of his sword. A part of her thrilled at that detail—his sword. She pulled it from the back of the chair, giving some resistance but not enough, and stalked toward him. They would collide quickly, now that her stride and his were bringing them to the center. Her jacket hung open, the thin, loose material of her tank top offering glimpses of unprotected flesh—pale and dressed in tattoos and scars. She wondered then, what his skin looked like under all those fine suits. Did he have scars? Would she give him one to remember her by? Maybe she really was a romantic, after all.

She swung up to meet his slash and the crowd howled when metal clashed. Her lips were swollen from kissing and her eyes a little glassy from shots, but Wicker was made for dueling. She’d done it in worse states than this for less enjoyable reasons.


Idella turned his back on the scene before the two even met to start the fight. He hadn’t particularly wanted to insight more interaction between Ebelt and Wicker, but it had seemed the best choice in the moment. The crowd needed entertainment, something to move them from one scene to the next with minimal chatter. Wicker had a nature about her that was easy to insight. She wanted to fight Ebelt, he had seen it already. What worried him was if she wanted more than fights. She was Hyacinth and a part of him wasn’t willing to share her fierce love with another king—even a once-king of Rose. Maybe she would get it out of her system if they dueled. Maybe he would beat it out of her or she would beat it into him. Maybe they would find that fire only a passing flame, gone with their adrenaline.

He took the few steps to Fern. “What were talking about again? Oh yes, Queens. Any recommendations?” He reached out to the side and a servant rushed in with a tray of champagne flutes. The crowd burst around them with excitement as metal beat fiercely against metal behind him.


Almi subconsciously tightened her gentle hold on Luna’s arm when the king spoke of returning her to Heiv. Her gaze did move around the crowd, looking for her own king, but relief washed through her when he wasn’t readily available to take her attention. Almi was a good princess, she would not neglect her own sovereign, but she wasn’t interested in leaving Luna’s side either. Unless, maybe she was clinging. She relaxed her hold, turning a little toward the developing duel. She did smile at the showmanship of their theatrics, making characters of themselves and a true story for the situation at hand.

“I think I’ll watch the duel, thank you, but if you wish to entertain someone else, I won’t keep you, your majesty.” She smiled brightly at the other woman. “I understand Kings have obligations at these sorts of functions.”

A cluster of new students were practically bouncing on their toes at the duel. It was all still new for them, fresh and exciting, where this had become casual for most over the years. She smiled at the shorter crowd, not yet filling out their fine suits and gowns. “I am glad they made such a spectacle of it,” she confessed to the King, though she wasn’t a fan of duels herself, she did enjoy the excitement of others.

OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« on: January 04, 2018, 11:04:27 am »
Could have been told to "teach him a lesson" by Hayden and decided to make it worse, to make a new spot for himself? Unless you want it less intentional?

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