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Messages - Jill the Ripper

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OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 30, 2020, 05:22:09 pm »

Micah Laurent, 30.  Cousin or brother, it's not important.  He tried making a break for it a few years ago, but now he's back.  Keen hobbyist mechanic, though as a kid most Laurents don't get to be picky about their vehicles. Talented at inflicting people he doesn't like with illness.  Resents it, though.  Healing is harder, but doable.  Death is always easier, though.  Found work as a tradesman, an electrician.  It pays the bills.

Cassie Medici, 17.  Baby sister of the Medici pack. As a child, her leg was broken in an accident - an accident she doesn't talk about.  Now, when she's stressed or tired it gets harer to walk on. Dark hair and pale blue eyes.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 30, 2020, 05:19:46 pm »
Henry almost laughed at the cleanup remark, huffing instead as he leaned down to help the Wolf up.  "It'll provide work for a few of the other businesses in town, so..." He shrugged, trailing off. 

There was a pause of a moment, a breath, where Henry looked around around and realised that they - he, Vester and the Eaton twin, Wyatt - were the only living things still in the ruins of his store - three Sentinels, though Henry could never, rightfully, claim that title, having never been able to contribute.  It was how he'd ended up in the hardware store -- it'd belonged to old Davey Andrews, for decades, before Henry had come along as a kid, quietly working there, a ghost between the shelves.  Over the years Davey had let him handle more and more responsibility - mundane things, easy things, like stock-take and ordering and deliveries.  And then Henry had just as quietly bought it, old Andrews going into long-awaited retirement. 

The old man had been kind to Henry, in a rough way.  He had never questioned why the Sentinel boy was so interested in something as mundane as spare piping or copper wiring, or helping people find it.  But he had been, because he didn't like the mumbo jumbo of his kin -- the tarot cards, the tea leaves.  The palm reading.  When you couldn't See it in the same way, at best it all sounded like make believe.  At worst, it could keep you up at night in fear, in the Unknowing, the trap that was living life blind.  Either way -- the only way he could escape it was by slipping quietly into an average life.

"I'll call Micah." He said, out of the blue.  "He's back in town, working with Clark's Electrical.  He'll be able to help and keep things under wrap."

Micah Laurent.  Henry had only seen him a couple of times, in the store buying things for the jobs he did now, as an electrician, but he'd been friendly enough.  The Carver man had no idea what had brought the man back, but here he was, on Helter ground again.  This place disposed of - and renewed - Sentinels like rubbish.

It was quickly becoming a Sentinel meeting in the shop, Connie thought wryly, as Claudette sailed up to their their new guard like the small-town politician she was.  All the while keeping a polite - but cool - distance, probably from Noel. The Eatons and the Laurents had boundaries drawn by bad blood that both sides perpetuated.  Still, Connie nodded back to her, gently motioning for her friend to sit.

"I can offer tea." Connie called out wryly, already pouring a cup for her friend.  "Or a really great masque to rehydrate your skin."

Criton and Claudette were having their own aside, though, and amused Connie shared a secret smile with Noel.  Eatons and their guard-dogs, she guessed. 

Still, when they mentioned Henry's shop the smile did drop.  Even if he didn't have the sight, he was still apart of the family.  "Could the pack spare a few more hands?" Connie asked, interrupting Criton and Claudette.  "To help with the cleanup?" It was the least they all owed Henry.  It was the least they owed any of their families who were otherwise pushed aside.

Cassie tried her best not to wince every time she had to put her weight on her leg as she strode down the street to the now ruined hardware store, her hair swaying in it's ponytail.   Bev had finally calmed down just enough to mention seeing her brother - one of them, anyway, and Cassie had sat there, stewing, until the absence of chaotic noise meant it was safe to move.

She hated not being included in pack things, and it seemed like some stupid monster rolling around with her brother through the street was a pretty big pack thing. 

Pulling up just front of the ruined threshold of the shop, Cassie hesitated only for a moment -- and then she saw which brother it was, at the heart of it all, and stopped entirely. 

"Oh." She said, impressed despite herself. "Criton's definitely going to make you deal with this."

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 27, 2020, 07:49:38 pm »
i have no idea what you could possibly mean by that.  /coughs

but i may or may not have offered up a new lamb to the slaughter... theoretically. 


Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 27, 2020, 07:47:42 pm »
Startled, Connie paused for a moment before the pride of the Medici pack.  Criton looked the part of the rugged stand-in Alpha, hardened and battle-marked -- but something had shifted, in their ranks.  The bitterness in his voice, lingering over the name Super Pup, gave it away. 

She gently pushed Noel through the opened door.  "It's not like the creatures to come in so boldly." Connie remarked to them. "The rot of this town isn't usually so bad as to attract them that...  that desperately."

Meanwhile, standing in the wreckage of what had been an aisle of tape measures and surveyor equipment, Henry watched in grim silence as Vester deflated back to the deceptive, human shape, miserable for a moment.  Still, he met Henry's gaze with approval, and the Carver man felt his throat tighten with both pity and admiration.  Whatever had happened to Vester - whatever had transformed him - had broken him and remade him into the being on the floor, rising to meet Claudette as though he were serving her.

"Bev, shut up."

Beverly was still sobbing, crouched down against the wall, and annoyed, Cassie stretched out her legs, her bad one shaking a little from the stress of running through the bookstore.

Cassie Medici, seventeen and counting the days down til her 18th birthday, could not have picked a worse time to come into town.  She'd hitched a ride with Criton, promising she wouldn't be long - but that meant that in the resulting chaos, she now had no idea where he was.  Whatever it was that had happened, Cassie could smell it, the stink of it enough to make her want to retch, unpleasant enough to awaken the wolf inside her. 

Her classmate's sobs were getting to her, and Cassie could imagine ripping the other girl's throat out.  "Beverly.  Shut. Up."

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 21, 2020, 03:09:32 pm »
i need to practise!! but i've posted, a paltry offering for the wait.  what if i made a Clarence classmate for him to bully??

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 21, 2020, 03:07:57 pm »
Henry did not have to be told twice. Heart hardening at the visible change in Vester Medici - a change that hadn't been possible a few years ago - Henry griped the axe tight as he he lifted it above his head and brought it down. 

The creature was more of an impression than a real beast, to him -- but he could define enough of it, even with his lack of Sight, and his strike dug deeply into the hardwood floors as he severed the antlers from its head, dust rising in a cloud. 

Claudette Eaton was waiting at the edges of the mess, amused.  Nothing went on in this town without an Eaton arriving to notarise it.  With a nod to her the Carver man straightened, not missing how her bright hair made her stand out in the store.  Eatons weren't the self-proclaimed town royalty for nothing.

As the fighting rolled into Henry's store, Connie hurriedly made her way across the street to her friend, her yellow coat a beacon.  "Noel!" She shouted.  "Come on, let's get out of here -- "

Looking back to Cleanse - and Wyatt - Connie hesitated.  The last thing she wanted to do was pull Noel headlong into the Smith brat -- but then he solved the equation for her by striding away from the store, fist clenched. Who knew what his problem was, but as long as he was taking it away, it didn't matter. 

"Come." She said, holding Noel's hand. "Leave it to the fighters, lets get out of here."

Tugging her gently, Connie started back to the store.

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 15, 2020, 08:16:48 pm »
Haha, I can make a limper! For now though, I've made a Henry! A Henry Carver. He's not good at fortune telling.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 15, 2020, 08:15:38 pm »
In adolescent petulance, Clarence set down the jar as though it had grown too-hot in his hands.  She thought maybe that same petulance, the teenage pride, would carry him out the door and away from her and Wyatt both, too old to deal with this, but then the boy stepped closer, a looming threat.  The Carver woman was suddenly made aware of just how tall he was, for a kid. 

"Maybe you should try it yourself.  Good for the colour of the skin, right?"

Her mouth tightened. "You don't come in here and talk shit at me, Clarence.  In fact, you can leave - "

A rolling calamity out front stopped her dead, the noise of something that didn't belong in town and a wolf tearing into each other, Connie looking past the bastard of a boy in front of her just in time to catch Vester chasing after a forest spirit.  "Jesus." She breathed, forgetting about the boy in front of her.  What was it doing here in town?  Now?  "Where's Noel!"

None of them missed the shattering of its wretched body being thrown through the glass windows of the Hardware store, Vester standing out front like a deranged victor before following in.  Connie had no idea what it must look like, to the townsfolk. 

In the store, Henry Carver - thirty-six, ungifted in the way of fortune-telling and generally a quiet man - leapt up when the forest monster was thrown so unceremoniously through the shop windows. 

The was a scream - Beverly, one of their shop girls, as useless as tits on a bull - but she was too far away to be hurt.  Shock, then.  Henry ignored her, instead following the thrashing of his shelves as bolts and tools and metal crashed around with whatever had been thrown in at them.  He saw deer-like antler, briefly, and then like a demon of misfortune a bleeding figure standing before it.  It too a moment before Henry realised it was Medici boy, one of the younger ones. 

Picking up a discarded axe handle, Henry lifted it up and swung it at the creature before them, as it tried to bear down on him.

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 10, 2020, 03:56:27 pm »
Look, everyone's fair game, right?  I need to make more characters that can be in more places.....

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 10, 2020, 03:55:29 pm »
With her hand in his, Connie kept her eyes downcast, smiling lazily.  All of Wyatt's teasing, their mutual flirtations -- a fun exercise in something that had almost been, the salve on an old hurt. 

"It's a good effort." She told him solemnly, trying not let her fingers curl with his touch. "You've reversed them, though."  Leaning in closer, she pointed out, "Look - this is the fate line.  And this is the head."

More parlour games, but they made for good supplement material when the townsfolk came to a Carver, wanting to know about their futures, their lives, their options. 

Connie breathed in deep, and let her eyes flicker up to Wyatt's face.  He'd only grown into it more, as an adult a far cry from the pretty-boy teen she had sobbed so bitterly over, when her Momma found out about them. 

The bell rang again, heralding a new visitor and Connie turned to the door, smiling pleasantly like she wasn't standing there, too close to her puppy love; only for her smile to imperceptibly hitch when she saw it who it was. 

The Smith boy had a chip on his shoulder that threatened to crack through his whole soul.  Maybe it was a teenager's passionate misery that made it worse, but on some days it snaked through the golden veneer he had, invisible to most. He would've made a glorious Eaton, careless and beautiful, now holding one of her Momma's creams in hand, turning it over.

Steeling herself, Connie tried to keep her smile bright. The Carvers had seen too many of his little classmates, all love-sick for him, coming to the shop and asking hushed questions about feelings that were never returned.  Cornelia didn't have the patience for them and their idiocy, and she didn't have the patience for him and the entitlement he wore like a cloak, though her shop manners won.  "That's an overnight mask, to brighten up tired skin."  She said brightly.  Amused despite herself, she added, "I don't think you need it, Clarence."

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 08, 2020, 11:28:40 am »
i feel out of practise LOL, but ah well. :jill:

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 08, 2020, 11:28:00 am »
The Carver shop, Cleanse, was white-washed to make it brighter, with big glass windows to let in what light existed in their twilight-world.

Connie, ready for the day in her blue cotton pantsuit and clean linen apron walked past the candles on display - soy wax, organic with essential oils - lighting them as she passed with an airy wave of her fingers.  Hedgewitch magic, and nothing complicated - a gift from a Carver bride, brought into the family long ago. 

Overhead the warm lights lit the shop up, making it inviting, welcoming.   It was important, always, that they made the townspeople feel welcomed - that they could come in and browse, pick up things, sample them.  Ask questions.  All kinds.

Stacking little pottles of a new lip balm she and her mother had made - thick, creamy moisturiser that smelt of garden roses - Connie didn't notice the shadow at her door until it opened, and she turned to smile as the bell above it jingled.

"Welcome - oh." For a moment, she blinked at the guest in surprise, then smiled more widely.  "Wyatt, it's good to see you.  I thought you'd forgotten about us."

Wyatt Eaton, the hero of sixteen-year old Connie's dreams, was... an impression.  As if the charm of the Eaton's power and money weren't enough, he and his brother were both classically good-looking; sandy hair and winsome smiles. Tall and broad-shouldered.  But Wyatt -- Wyatt had always been the kinder of the pair, and it showed in his face, his eyes.

Today he looked tired.  But the nights were getting longer, and the things that demanded their attention - things that lived in the dark just outside the town, waiting - always grew more restless with the darker months.  As the self-appointed leaders of this town, Cornelia wouldn't have been surprised if that Eaton-created pressure was piling on him. 

Sympathetic, she said, "You look like you could use some decent sleep.  Knowing you, though..." She arched an eyebrow, turning back to the counter.  "Here, have some of this." 

On the wall above the counter was a rack of mugs - white, rounded, simple things.  Connie grabbed one, and opening a nearby jar added a tea bag.  There was a kettle on a warming plate, waiting -- it was a favourite way of her mother's, to greet people with a warm cup of tea.  They made the tea themselves; peppermint and chamomile.  It was one of their most popular items, and the least magical item in the store.  Sometimes even just the small ritual of holding a cup and drinking from it was enough.

"Here," She said at last, turning to him to hand him the cup. "It won't fix your problems, but it always helps to pause for a moment."

Her hands lingered on the white ceramic for a moment, and distracted, she looked out the windows to the street, catching a flash of yellow -- Noel.  The glass and the angle almost distorted the view, but Connie caught a dark shadow beside her friend, until it shifted and showed it was corporeal; Vester Medici.  Not completely one of Noel's corpses, then, but living.  Though, she mused, these days he was a far cry from the whelp of a pup that had followed Noel's brother around. 

Dark eyes flickered to Wyatt, and Connie smiled, "Try one of our new hand creams."  She suggested to him, brightly. "They're made with a rose butter Momma makes, she's trying to create a whole line out of it.  You'll never have softer hands."  She went to grab the sample jar, being playful, though she was thinking of her mother's cards that morning.  The Page of Cups, The Devil, The World, The Knight of Swords.  Who was who, today, she wondered.  Who was who.

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 06, 2020, 12:31:44 pm »
Ah, the Eatons are so miserable, I love them, LOL.

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close OOC
« on: April 05, 2020, 09:59:28 pm »
Posted!! it's more of an intro than anything.... advancing, and just to throw Connie into the ring before you guys got bored waiting for me!!  I imagine that Verity and Connie run a family shop near Vera's Confectionery that sells... organic, homemade shampoos and soaps, things like that, and potions on the side, just quietly.  With some fortune telling thrown in.  At a price.  I like thinking the Carvers tend to keep their noses down and out of the way when it comes to...... town politics.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 05, 2020, 09:56:57 pm »
The cards weren't cooperating.

Annoyed, Connie flipped over another one, the aged edges curling a little, at the corners.  The Fool.  A child about to step off a cliff, balloon in hand, a little dog following behind. 

She pulled another, the flame of her candle flickering with the movement.  The Wheel.  A Ferris wheel, turning.  Even as Connie watched, wary, the wheel began to move slowly and irritated she flipped it over so that the back of it - dark blue and golden stars - showed instead. 

She had been pulling the same cards, over and over again, no matter what she asked or thought or tried.  And they would only tell her the same thing: jump, and time will tell.

"Or, alternatively; they're telling you that you need to stop asking."

Connie, unsurprised at the voice or that it knew what she was struggling with, shrugged.  "What's the point in being able to See if it can't help us?"

Next to her, her mother set down a cup of coffee, trying her best to be patient.  "There's a difference between illuminating your choices for you, and telling you what you want to hear, Cornelia."

Connie frowned and very gently her mother took the cards from the table, the soft beat of card-stock as she reshuffled them the only noise between them.   The morning light didn't reach their kitchen, made darker still with an explosion of greenery, plants gathered on every surface.  It didn't help that Helter Close was a dark town, like its secrets -- the fog outside was still thick. 

Laying out four cards, Verity Carver arched an eyebrow, her brown face amused.  "You're not going to have time to mull today.  Go get ready."

The girl looked at the cards before her mother.  Page of Cups, The Devil, The World, The Knight of Swords.  Connie knew who the Page was, always knew, and instinctively she ran her fingers over the tail-end of the silk scarf she wore to bed, protecting her wild curls. Noel was coming. 

Lifting the cup without drinking from it, her mother watched her carefully, dark eyes shinning in the low Helter Close light.  "That girl is teetering; she has no idea if she's coming or going, Cornelia.  She's at the edge of two worlds."  She hesitated.  "The Dead have a grasp that we, blessedly, will never know -- though the Laurents will always live with it.  Give your guidance, but try your best to stay away from the same clutches."

It was a warning Connie had heard dozens of times before.  Verity had never tried to stop the girls' friendship, but her daughter knew that the Eaton rule was a powerful thing -- even they were not immune to the oily charm of their wealth and the sticky, persuasive way it covered everything in its path, like their magic.   The Laurents with their matriarchs and their wilful distance flew in the face of everything the Eatons cared about -- namely, control of Helter.  Still, Connie couldn't imagine how anyone, let alone the self-important Eatons, would give a shit about their friendship. 

"Relax, Momma."  She said, untying her silk scarf.  She shook her curls out, feeling them bounce under her fingers.  "It's just Noel.  She ain't dead yet."

Her mother looked at her with shrewd eyes.  "She's a Laurent.  She might as well be."

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 04, 2020, 05:42:09 pm »
LOL, I love it!! I can't decide which family to throw my lot in with first.  D:  They're all so COOL.
 Medicis once being actual wolves though.... it's kinda the coolest, lmao.

:mlprainbow: :mlprainbow:

OOC Discussion / Re: Helter Close
« on: April 04, 2020, 02:15:58 pm »
I am IN.  I had a bit of an idea for the Medicis, if it's agreeable -- would them being enforcers work?  Likeeeee, they do.... law enforcement, heavy-weight grunts/underlings under Eaton command.   Like kinda the physical force for Eatons? Idkkkkk.

OOC Discussion / Re: Glass Shards
« on: January 30, 2019, 10:35:13 am »
In! So in!  I'm thinking... the bastard daughter of one of the five who's now been claimed as a legitimate heir? 

And.... hmmmmmmmmm, I dunno!  But I'm excited to brain storm what we need!!!  :cake: :pinkteapot: :crown: :crown: :crown: :jill:

edit: I have a name for one of our families!!!  De Ste Croix.  Sounds fancy, right???

OOC Discussion / Re: Incisors
« on: September 01, 2017, 05:25:56 pm »
I am (still) writing my post -- feel free to post again if you guys feel inspired!!! I'll be away from the laptop for the weekend. DD:  I KNOW, I'M THE WORST.  DDDDDDD:  I DON'T DESERVE UR FRIENDSHIP.

OOC Discussion / Re: Incisors
« on: August 24, 2017, 05:33:43 pm »
I edited in my character sheets! They're naked tho.  I'm also tempted to make another character...
a bad boy wolf perhaps?  A nazi?  Can I make a nazi werewolf?  C'monnnnnn.  It'd be greattttt.

 :choco: :bluecat: :pinkteapot: :jill: :jill: :jill: :bow: :whitecat:

OOC Discussion / Re: Incisors
« on: August 22, 2017, 02:31:55 pm »
Jill's Cast List

Vivienne Honoré Rose-Bryer


The youngest grandchild of bridal couture legend Vivi Honoré, Vivienne - named for her - is both her grandmother's pet, and the closest to her, in temperament.

Having been born into the world of haute-couture millions, Vivienne has known no other life.  Summers in Paris at her grandmother's château; ballet at the Opera; front-row seats at high-end fashion shows in Paris and New York; private equestrian lessons with former Olympians -- these are childhood memories for the brunette. 

Though the girl delights in fashion - she's recently been invited to le Bal des Débutantes, in Paris - her truest passion is horse-riding.  At Ételan Academy she pursues it with a single-minded determination, an accomplished competition rider with her beloved steed, His Majesty.

Vivienne is pleasant enough, when she wants to be.  She shares the same instant fury as her grandmother, however, and will not let things slide if she thinks it's a deliberate slight against her or someone she loves. Even with them, however, she can be a touch cruel -- dismissive of other's problems, if she doesn't deem them serious enough.   If this loses her friends, however, she often will win them back with her impulsive generosity.
Baby-faced with rosy cheeks and long, dark glossy hair, Vivienne is leggy and feline, with amber-brown eyes.

Eamon Saint-Chapdelaine
The First Son of France


The only son of the imcumbent Président Valéry Chapdelaine, Eamon is calm, a thinker moreso than a talker. 

More comfortable in the cities than the quiet countryside of the school, Eamon fills the silence of it with his music, his careful, long-fingers perfect for piano. 

Dark brown hair, a lithe figure, Eamon has his mother's dark eyes, the use of round glasses his own genetic quirk.  He's being trained for his father's duties, however -- not the political, but the traditional.  The Chapdelaines have been apart of an order of chevaliers, offshoots from the Templars, for generations.  Their duty revolves around the mediation of the ancient wolf bloodlines and the day-to-day humans, of which the Chapdelaines belong. 

Eamon takes Latin, Anicent Greek, fencing lessons -- but he also takes a particularly difficult strand of Math. He has quiet hopes to become a doctor, eventually.

OOC Discussion / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝ INTEREST CHECK/OOC ✧☆
« on: November 24, 2016, 08:54:18 am »
I promise, if I am ever being molested, I shall try very hard not to entice them with my girlish fragility~

And I posted!! At last!!! I am sorry, there's no excuse.  I am enjoying this though - bring on more gore!  Murder one of mine, if you want!  I'll just make more, muhahahaha.  Oh wait... I have more!!

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝
« on: November 24, 2016, 08:52:21 am »
Two things happened after Noah had approached Ivy.  The first, and most important - her call with Charlotte suddenly died.  The second, and worst, was that her heart - her very real heart, underneath the satin and cotton and skin of her - caught itself in her throat, when the smiling boy (face painted, wicked but still gleaming friendly underneath) presented her with the cookie, a sweeter, smaller version of her own muscle, now hammering hard.

"What are you doing?"  Ivy asked, panicked, taking one step back from him.  "I can't - you - oh my God."  In horror, she wondered if Charlotte had heard - but - she couldn't.  "I was talking to Charlotte."  She hissed.  Really, the girl was one step away from hysterical, but Noah just didn't know how bad things were.  Did he really have no clue?  The thought ached.  He'd been so openly earnest, when he'd approached her - confident, in that sunny, casual way of his.     If it had been anyone else's heart he had broken...

"I - I have to go find Charlotte."  She managed, calming herself.   Her tone was far from even, but surely, surely Noah would have to understand?   Big, gray eyes pleaded with him as she hesitated, curling away from him -- only to stop sharp as Love - and she only realised it was Love when he called out, strangled for words - called out, pointing at Ash like she was something frightening.

It had taken Lacey too long - suspended in fear, in disbelief - to react, recoiling away as Mr. Adams was brought to the ground, like a crippled beast, clawing out for her, shouting at her to help him - help him, the monster who stalked her dreams.  For a moment she couldn't believe what she was seeing, her skin still searing from his touch even as fear pumped through her.  But the thing trying to devour - take in - her teacher opened it's mouth even wider and Lacey couldn't help it.  It was like a nightmare that had crawled out from Hell itself, clawing out for her.  She screamed, just as she felt something tug at her from behind, where she'd pressed up against the wall.  Her scream went higher and she fought away, twisting, grabbing the cloth of the curtains they'd hung as she fell, sprawled out towards Mr. Adams.  There was nothing behind her but she thought she could feel it, still, and her screaming would not stop. 

Brow creased, Aden searched Charlotte's face for what had just happened.  "Are you okay?" He asked, as the others of the Haunted House crowded crowded around them.  Any and all reply was lost, however, with a piercing scream - from the Haunted House itself.

Someone shrieked in surprise - Casey maybe.  Without thinking, Aden stepped towards the door, pausing for only a moment - was it part of the Haunting?  But the scream peaked, even more panicked, and whatever it was, it wasn't faked for cheap thrills.  He ran for the door, not stopping to grab the handle but kicking it - whatever was on the other side, whoever was screaming, didn't sound like they had time for fumbling.

OOC Discussion / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝ INTEREST CHECK/OOC ✧☆
« on: November 03, 2016, 07:23:42 pm »
Ha!  I hope the perv fuel is adequate, I'm sorry for perv-blocking, but it will make it more fun?

I like Bogen Wolf though and I am very glad you guys didn't eat my characters yet! 

I'm still laughing at a wolf having the nerv to be so... upsetting.  LOL.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝
« on: November 03, 2016, 07:15:08 pm »
The quiet violence of his fingers - across her skin, goosebumps growing, or against her lips, her breath wet with fear - left Lacey trembling.  She was afraid to move, afraid to answer him, to unwittingly give him more leeway with her body.   Instead of fighting him, clawing at him, screaming, her arms went up against him, weakly. 

"P-please." She whispered.   Nothing was under her control, now, not her body, not the situation, not her shakey breaths; Lacey - gently - tried to push away, but then there was the sound of laughing, from the hallway.

Aden turned to the glow-in-the-dark decorations, smiling to himself as Charlotte answered her phone.  In the dark the hallway seemed to stretch out, uncomfortable -- it really worked nicely, Aden only jarred out of the moment by football behind him and someone started laughing.  Haley, Aden recognised dimly.  She laughed a lot, and now she was laughing at something Casey - dressed like Alexander Hamilton - had said as they came into the hall.  "Hey!" Casey said.  "Have you guys checked out the Haunted House yet?"

"Haunted House?" Ivy asked, letting her hand follow the railing as she caught ahold of the conversation behind Charlotte.  "And yes I'm in the building, hang on, I'm just coming up now."  It was weird how quiet the stairs were, considering the party was just before her, the music just a faint pulse.  It should've been louder, and Ivy could not shake the feeling until she arrived on the floor, already dark, the eerie, glowing decorations like ghosts.   Popping her head in the first classroom - the dance room - Ivy asked into her phone, "Are you in here?" The disco ball made the place glimmer and it took a moment - a heartbeat - before Ivy realized that Charlotte wasn't there.

But Noah was.

OOC Discussion / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝ INTEREST CHECK/OOC ✧☆
« on: November 01, 2016, 06:55:35 pm »
Did I ever mention that that wolf is terrifying? In the purest of ways, of course~

Just popping in, though, to say that I am writing a post, but if I fall asleep before finishing it I apologize, pls don't eat me (yet).

Freestyle Roleplay / Re: Written in Ash
« on: October 31, 2016, 01:12:53 pm »
The sun set on their meal and the village and Isabelle could taste it, as everyone ate - the dark wave that was coming for them all, like the tidal beasts that thrashed her father's boats in the ocean. 

She let James help her into her parent's cart, after she and Elinor kissed each other goodbye.  His cheeks were pink and he smiled before dropping his gaze, bashful.  Tobias, helping her father connect the horses to the cart, watched it all, and so Isabelle played her part, letting her fingers linger in James's.  He really was a gentle creature - it would be a shame to leave him with his own quiet sadness, after tonight's events changed all their lives.  And he would bare it quietly, too, fading once more into the background without the bloom of love to shine attention on him.   But still, he was also of a sweet nature - surely that would not be allowed to go wasted?  Mayhap she and Elinor could bring him to a woman deserving of him, after they freed Elinor herself. 

It did not take long for their pies to work their secrets through those that ate of them; and thanks to her beloved, every family in town should have supped on them.  Who could have resisted the fresh pastry, the sugary apples - and all from Elinor Thomas, so charmed, so happy and helpful.  The loving way they would've been delivered around town - a thoughtful gesture, even amid her own happiness - would be a charm of it's own, working it's way into the townspeoples' hearts, opening them up to the treat.   

How this town would fall around Elinor's feet, at her despair, the tragic Queen - and Isabelle would be at her side, fierce for her, as justice was found for her beloved's fiance's horrific murder. 

She could almost taste the laughs they would hide, Nicolas's blood in their mouths.

The candle burned low when Isabelle was sure that all in Patience slumbered.  She could feel it, like a heavy veil, all those dreams calling out to her: but there was only one she wanted, tonight. 

Barefoot, clad only in the white soft cotton of her nightgown, Isabelle left the house silently, though no one would hear her.  She stood outside and could feel the whispering of the trees, the wind touching her hair, unbound.  In the moonlight she closed her eyes, and let her feet take her forward as she found the dream she wanted, calling out to her.   

It tasted like cream and desire.   Isabelle let her head lull back, aware of her hair, thick around her shoulders as she whispered from her own thoughts and mind and into Sarah Carson's.   The dream Isabelle had crafted was sweet and heady, rich;  she weaved the clean smell of Nicholas, the warmth of his sun-dried shirt to wrap around Sarah, dressed in silks and crowned in flowers.  She would follow it, hearing his voice, until it lead her to him, sleeping sweetly in a bower of primroses, where she would reach out and touch him, feel what a man felt like.   

Isabelle called out to Elinor in that silent, soul-driven way they shared.  It is time.   

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝
« on: October 26, 2016, 03:45:27 pm »

The fall leaves were bright on the pathway as Ivy walked into the school grounds, her black high heels shinning against the rot of them.   She'd walked from home, taking her time, smiling as small witches and princesses and zombies ran around her.  She was dressed as Red Riding Hood tonight, nothing little about her -- her mother had made the outfit for her, selecting the fabrics carefully from a boutique she liked to visit in the City.  Her cape tonight was dark, dark red, heavy satin that puffed out around her, complete with a deep hood and bow.   With a simple white dress underneath it, it was the cape that stole the show.

She hadn't brought a basket - instead, she'd gone with a cheap, plastic jack-o-lantern bucket to complete her outfit, filled with all the Paydays and Mars Bars she could fit.  There was a power to carrying around viable candy, she thought, pushing through the school doors.  The hallways were quiet, weirdly so, and Ivy tilted her head up to the ceiling, as though if she angle herself right, she'd be able to hear Charlotte.   

There was nothing, and Ivy shook out her inky, long pigtails, and made her way to the staircase, pulling out her phone to ring Charlotte and find where she was, exactly.


Aden smiled in response to Charlotte's, easy and small.   "I don't mind.  It beats waiting for Oliver alone." 

Unable to help himself, his eyes flickered to Noah and Lou, the former joking about needing a classmate to appear as a priest.  Could he really not see it? Aden thought, a little sadly.   Even he could, outsider to the drama as he was.   But maybe he was biased - Ivy made no secret of how horrified she'd been for her best friend.   "Who's in charge of the Haunted House?  Maybe they need more webs in there, or something."  He offered, as a phone began to ring.


Under her sheet, her white shield, Lacey stiffened at Mr. Adams voice, complimenting Amanda as the bloodied girl moved to leave.  The former dancer wanted to cry out, to stop her from leaving Lacey alone with him but she was frozen, her voice seized in fear.  This was a man who crept into her dreams and left her shaking when she woke from them.   She almost made a tiny, frightened sound as Amanda darted away -- how could the other girl stand being touched by him so, a firm hand on the shoulder?  Even the whisper of him going past her was enough to leave Lacey trembling with doe-like fear.

She stayed mute as he complimented her handiwork, suddenly aware of how small the room was, how much of a trap.  Would anyone hear her scream?  Would it just be taken as a Halloween scare tactic?  How was her heartbeat not filling the room?  When she felt his fingers glide along the sheet, on her shoulder, curled in tighter, trying to duck away from his touch.   Forcing herself to talk, she said, "I've been helping my mother."  He was an the devil himself, she thought desperately.

Freestyle Roleplay / Re: Written in Ash
« on: October 26, 2016, 08:06:45 am »
How Isabelle laughed!  Gaily and bright, like a bell - all the while the terrible ache inside her throbbed.  If only Tobias knew how much she hated any future, even just childish fancy, without him!

But the play here required sacrifices of them all - and so Isabelle felt herself flush, clutching at her beloved Elinor close.  "'Tis but rumour."  She spoke shyly, but the warming of her face made it seem like she thought otherwise.   Could Tobias imagine it, like she could?   A future of carefully orchestrated agony?   Quiet James, and a small house dressed in the lace curtains that Isabelle would bring in her glory chest; they would have beautiful, clear-eyed children with his cheeks and her hair and Tobias would have to watch it all, his brother's contentment --  because Isabelle could, if she so wanted, make any man content. 

Instead she turned to press her face into Elinor's shoulder, as though overcome.  "I shall not be able to look at James properly, this eve!" She cried, muffled against cloth, smiling smile.  After a moment or two she pulled away and cupped Elinor's cheek.  "But come, it is not me getting wed -- we have much to share, I cannot bear the thought of us parting so soon, dearest, if I were a man I would marry you myself to keep you forever."

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Season of ✝he Ghos✝
« on: October 20, 2016, 05:31:46 pm »
Lacey stiffened when Amanda stumbled in, swearing at her.  She hugged her arms around her.  "I didn't feel like wearing one."  She managed to say evenly.   It seemed ridiculous to say outloud, especially to someone like Amanda Banks.  The other girl had gone all out, this year, with her costume -- it made Lacey feel even smaller, and for a moment she hated her own defences, hated why she had to have them.  Damn you, she thought silently.  Damn you to hell

Scowling, the other girl grabbed one of the spare sheets they had, a luminous white one -- whoever had bundled up the sheets for the maze had just grabbed whatever they could spare.  Balled up, the sheet Amanda threw hit Lacey in the chest, her hands going to it, gathering it, automatically. 

"Well here, let me help you.  Now you have a costume."

Lacey looked down at the whiteness in her arms.  There was a pair of scissors laying near by -- she glanced up at Amanda, so proud and haughty, and then back down at them.  The other girl thought she was being funny, perhaps -- but a sheet ghost suited Lacey, covered her, and she reached out and took them, unfolding the sheet til she found where she could cut. 

Just as she slipped it over her head, sure she could hear a faint snort from Amanda, Lacey heard the unmistakable sounds of someone else in the room, a phone being touched , and froze under the brilliant white of her newly acquired shield.

Aden hovered closer to Charlotte, out of awkwardness, out of not knowing what to do with himself, his gangly limbs, as Noah - bright, friendly Noah, his face black and white like a skeleton - near bounded in.   Kramer was charming to everyone, a bit like Charlotte, though more easy-going than her bright need to make people happy.  They had dated, for a while, Aden watching from afar -- Oliver was the only one who knew about his quiet feelings for Charlotte, but even he didn't know just how surprised (and glad, might as well admit it) Aden had been when Ivy had started ranting about her best friend's breakup. 

Speaking of.  His mouth flattened, a reflex in thought, and as Lou and Noah traded comments, he asked, "I can help with anything else you need.  I've got time to kill."

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