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OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Ara on Today at 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
« Last post by Ara on Today at 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: Paper Trails
« Last post by Verse on January 21, 2018, 01:12:09 pm »
Evram turned his head away from the girl next to him. In his hood it didn't matter much. He was familiar with her skin, and started with a hand she might not remember between them. It wasn't so unthinkable that someone would like to rest his fingers on the side of his own leg. If the letter still held her attention, a few retreats of his palm would fish up the hem of her skirt. Eventually he could rest a gentle grip on the high of her thigh, well hidden under the fabric supposed to conceal her. If she'd inhale to scream his other hand would be swifter over her mouth, twisting her face away from his own, some threats in her ear before he left her. But if she was good, he'd not treat her harshly, and simply tug gently at the side of her undergarment, to wordlessly ask for her compliance and slight shifts in helping him liberate her from them.

Kanna didn't know herself yet. He was her teacher, and had seen how lost she was at the beginning of a fateful semester, when he heard her laugh carelessly, finally as a woman, and realized she had so much potential. What kind of teacher would he have been if he didn't guide her? It was important she came into her own, both in her body and in her heart. And that she wouldn't be corrupted by the wrong kind of distractions.

Subj: RE: Downtown
<<sent to: kankanna on: November 16 @ 6:25:21 pm>>


Don't ignore me for days like that. It makes me mad.

Don't be afraid of N. It'd be a bit cruel to yourself. I think it is the place that started your new life. It means something, doesn't it? When you think about it, can you see yourself never going back? I think your ghost is still there, waiting.

It's not silly. I know the night is watching you. And I think it likes you. You have lived in the sunlight all your life, and then, one time, you lived at night and it showed you something new, but you had too much light inside to remember. The more you live at night the more you'll remember of that time. And I'll be with you every step. You can always confide in me. I'm your sandboy. If you tell me your troubles I'll bury them.

I remember all my dreams. I treasure them. They balance me because every time I am polite in the day, I hurt someone in my dreams. Then I feel vindicated and whole. Perhaps you'll have balance too, when you remember. To me, I feel like I'm there with you in your dreams when I see your art.

/your shinigami

The night had waited for her. He'd prayed to her nerves that they wouldn't settle so that she'd show herself. How beautiful she was in that frame, in the wall of her house, on display for him where he sat. The brown in his eyes didn't catch a reflection from the night lights, and he stared freely at her pert, young orbs, and wanted to applaud when she grasped them with her pained expression. Evram felt such triumph, whispering things to her, and then see her bloom like a garden for his suggestions. She was his seedbed. A slow nod, that she may leave, and like they were connected by desire, she closed her window and her curtains. The branch wasn't such a good place to satisfy himself, so he left her there, for tonight.

Subj: RE: School
<<sent to: kankanna on: November 21 @ 01:02:44 am>>


Mel is part of you daylight life. You don't always have to be with her. Until now, haven't you neglected the night in you? It's fair to spend some time with the night too. I think I'm a night friend of yours.

Go speak with Mr. Welter. Your parents would be upset if you didn't do anything when you have the chance. Education is important. You've gotten so far. Mr. Welter is and adult. You need to listen. He wants your best.

You are not a nice girl, Kan. I think that's why you don't like to be seen as one. I don't mean that you're a bad one, but you're different than nice. When you woke up from that time, you were confused weren't you? You weren't disgusted or fearful in that strange bed. You went home and didn't tell anyone. The only time a person is confused is when they're presented with several things in conflict, which means they're seeing more than one thing that might be right for them. Go see what was right with that time, Kan.

/your shinigami

He wore a cap tonight. Black clothes as always, but with a navy shirt under the jacket. It was the same shirt her addled fingers had crushed in their desperate grip when he'd started pulling at her clothes. Not that it was entirely defensive, from what he'd felt. Her eyes were foggy, but the motions of her mouth had been clear, even if her words were muddled. She could be honest with foreign chemicals in her veins, and she knew that. That had been a moment of truth between them, but too much truth, so she'd had to erase it in the morning.

Along the way he decided to go as he'd gone that night, and threw the cap into the bushes, and simply messed his hair up violently, to turn it from the voluminous backward form to something more alluring, dancing over his dark eyes. Still hidden, but at least it was less likely to call for attention. He also didn't wear her teacher's stern expression and straight mouth, but slightly parted lips to hint at predatory fangs in a subtle grin. Canine confidence.

N was blinking before them, and he stayed behind her in line, turned away. Beautiful girls like Kanna didn't need to be of the right age.

sandboy: you're in N aren't you? Welcome home. Now look for your memories in the strength of vodka, rum and wine.

He stayed close, protecting her while his shoulders were convening with the music.

Takeda Urumi had always had a good eye for Kanna, and he'd discovered her already. On his way over to ask her how she'd gotten in, someone folded him over a quick punch to the gut. Takeda was shoved into a corner before he could recover, and wretched on the wall as his vision blurred. The strike had been charged with so much hatred he could feel blood on his tongue before he fell to his knees. He tried to regain his breath but it only settled into an uneven rhythm, which registered as alarming to the Gladiola High baseball star.

Sandboy with his shadowing hair went back guard Kanna.
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Paper Trails
« Last post by VenomousEve on January 20, 2018, 10:02:58 pm »
She stared at the messages on her phone and flushed. It was nothing, she knew. Her mysterious friend with his twilight letters. But it was hard not to feel like she’d been found out and it made her shudder. Shuddering… with what, she wasn’t sure. Did it feel good?

kankanna: School was alright. I guess that counts as fun? My best friend’s birthday is on Saturday.
kankanna: My mom is always on call, and she always stays at the hospital. I used to think she was disappointed in me, but now it feels kind of fun to have the house alone so often. Maybe that counts as fun too?

kankanna: I hope you’re having a nice evening too… if it’s evening where you are. I wonder if we live near or far.

Kanna took her time washing her hands. The water was too hot and she scrubbed too vigorously. Her slim fingers looked a little raw and red when she was done, like she’d thought to cook them through. When she went to bed that night, she’d only written two pages of her report.

In the morning, she was half-awake at the stove. The rice cooker steamed. A shrill whistle and she turned off the burner with a snap, taking the kettle to pour herself some water for tea. Breakfast was quick, the egg sliding from its shell after a quick rap against the edge of her rice bowl. It was going to be another day alone. Father wouldn’t be home until the weekend.

Mel had texted her that morning to say she was sick, so Kanna walked to the bus stop alone. She took the seat behind the bus driver and spent the twenty-minute commute reading over history notes. It was easier to be studious when people were watching. She smiled and waved when people called her name—there were several—but did not invite anyone to sit with her.

Kanna was likable. She had a pleasant demeanor and was neither too loud nor too quiet for anyone to find her particularly offensive. She kept a socially acceptable group of friends and had an admirable sort of relationship with her closest girlfriend, Mel. She spoke to boys enough that was not “frigid,” but steered clear of frequent company enough that she was not “easy.” Kanna was, on the whole, so very innocuous and reasonably charming that there had not even been rumors about the night she’d gone out with her class. Inevitably, it was presumed she had gone home at a respectable hour. Nobody had asked her what had happened, not once. Kanna was certain that meant, so far as the world exterior to herself was concerned, nothing had.   

From the bus, it was another twenty-five minutes on the train to reach school. Kanna could have gone to a high school much closer to home, but she’d wanted to go to Gladiolas for its reputation. Or, maybe her parents had wanted her too. Kanna was never entirely sure when she came up with ideas for herself, but she often reminded herself that it didn’t much matter. It was a good school and it was worth the commute.

This particular morning, she buried herself in her phone. The man beside her was unusually close for how empty the car was. It would probably have been appropriate to ask him for a bit more space, but she didn’t.

Subj: RE: Downtown
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 16 @ 4:04:21 pm>>


Sorry I’ve been quiet for a couple of days. I’ve been studying for a few exams and such. I haven’t gone back to N since I wrote you last. I think I’d be worried if I had. I still don’t know why I think about that place so much, but I’m pretty sure it’s not totally healthy. I hope I’m not like your old cat.

Do you like the cold? I kind of do. I’ve started liking it better lately. I’ve been taking your advice and standing in front of my open window at night, letting the chill wash over me. It does help me get to sleep. I think you might have gotten into my head a little, if I’m honest. Sometimes I feel like the night is really watching me. I know that’s silly and it’s probably just placebo or paranoia or both. Still, thank you for the suggestions. I haven’t remembered any of my dreams in the last three days. I think if I could remember, I’d hope you were in them. You’re very special to me. I didn’t know how much I needed a confidant before.

I got your other message too. The one from yesterday. It sounds like your dreams are complicated. Do you like remembering your dreams? I used to be sad when I couldn’t. Lately, I’m just glad when I get sleep. I think my dreams end up coming back to me in my art, but I could just be making that up. What do you think? I think you read me better than I read myself, when you talk about my paintings.


Kanna gasped, the safety razor clattering against the tub basin. “Shit, shit,” she mumbled and bit hard on her lower lip. Dark red beads welled up in a neat line down her leg. She’d forgotten to wash the soap from her hands before she started shaving and the handle had slipped. She washed the cut, watching the water dilute the pigment of her blood and salivate a rosy pink on the bottom of the tub. It wasn’t a deep cut and it wouldn’t scar, but it had hurt.

She tucked herself into bed early. She would finish the last page of her report tomorrow. The sound of the heater spewing warm air through the vents reminded her of a rushing tide. When she was small, that sort of sound had helped her sleep. Kanna sat up, groping through the dark off the end of her bed until she’d found her backpack. Fumbling fingers pulled a cigarette from their hidden spot and drew it to her lips. She pressed her tongue against the filter and knit her brow at the taste, laying back in her bed wide awake. She tried to fall asleep for the better part of two hours before she returned the cigarette to its package and went to her window.

Tonight, peering out and seeing no lights save the streetlamp across the street, she unbuttoned her sleeping shirt to the cold. It made her skin twitch and prickle. Kanna breathed in deep, eyes closed and did not move until the flush peaks of her pert chest had become painful. Her own hands felt foreign on her cold skin, grasping uncomfortably at her modest rounds. She pulled the window shut with a jerk and a bang and drew the curtains shut.

She fell asleep quickly after that and her breath hitched as she dreamed. A man led her gently out the back door of the Network and helped her rest against the cold brick wall. His mouth had tasted like liquor and cigarettes, or maybe the liquor was on her own breath… she wasn’t sure, but she trembled when he slipped his hand under her shirt.

Subj: School
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 20 @ 8:33:54 pm>>

This weekend, Mel had to cancel her party because she was still sick. I felt bad, because I was almost relieved I didn’t have to go. I used to really enjoy spending time with my friends, but it’s kind of confusing now. I feel like all my smiles are fake and I want to ask them why nobody has noticed. Maybe it’s just tiring. I feel like I’m being dramatic, which only makes me feel worse too.

I had to turn in my report today, and I’m not sure how I did. I’m usually quite good in this particular subject, but Mr. Welter grades me very unforgivingly. I’ve been meaning to ask him about making up for some of my lower scores, but I’m kind of embarrassed. At the same time, it’s probably best to just go for it… my parents will be upset if my grades drop this semester.

I know I shouldn’t do it, but I think I’m going to sneak out to the Network tonight. I think there’s a bit of an adrenaline rush that I’m becoming addicted to. It helps me forget all the stress at home. I’m also starting to feel like I might belong out at night like that. It’s hard to be looked at like I’m such a polite girl at school. I’d really like to be that person, but like you said… maybe I’m changing. I feel like I don’t deserve to be thought of as a nice girl. Nice girls don’t wake up in strange places the way I did. Not even once. It’s very wrong of me to think it, but I almost hope somebody finds me. I think I deserve it.


Kanna did not have to sneak when she left home at midnight. Her father’s trip had been extended into this week and her mother was still at work. Still, she felt like the house judged her when she slipped into the small black dress and wrapped herself in a long coat.
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Paper Trails
« Last post by Verse on January 18, 2018, 08:51:15 pm »
Subj: RE:Foggy
<<sent to: kankanna on: November 10 @ 4:07:02 am>>

Dear Kan

I'm up all night, you know that. A Shinigami lives mostly at night. But a good girl isn't suppose to feel so at ease during the dark hours. Are you becoming something else? Some of the monsters you draw are incomplete. But some of them are withering. I think you'll be beautiful, alive at night. If you can't remember your dreams, what do you wish they were?

When I have to sleep, I steal some liqueur from my friend. It used to give me some excitement and then I'd get lulled by the alcohol. I'd take so much I wouldn't remember. Good advice, yes?

And you're always oversharing with me, even before I started talking to you, right? In your pictures. I feel like some of them only I understand, now. It's how I like it. I like to see you, Kan. And I'm glad that I noticed you now of all times, when you're changing.

I followed a rabbit today. She went off from her other friends and I went after her. I like that rabbit. I think it noticed me and recognized I was dangerous to her, but she still went into places I could follow. Maybe some day I'll set a snare. Maybe the rabbit wants that?

Whenever you can't sleep, just pull the curtains apart and close your eyes by the window. It's an old spell. To let the night see you, and accept you.

Sweet dreams, changing girl


How pretty her cigarette handling was. Completely novice. He couldn't help but purse his own lips when she caught that filter. He could have watched it through her camera, but if he lit anything now she'd see his face in the leaves. Still in his work clothes, black shirt and navy slacks, hanging elegantly on elegant legs, on the branch that had become his second home. He didn't indulge concerts like these as often as he should, peering through her window. It was almost like a tale of budding lovers, if he'd been her age. Their tree hanging off the fence made it too easy.

sandboy: I'm thinking of you.

He wanted her to hear her phone vibrate as she petted herself closer to exhaustion.

sandboy: hope you're having a good time
Sandboy: you'll be fine
sandboy: did it feel good?

Last one was an indulgence. She'd never guess, anyway, but it would stay with her. Wasn't Kanna just an indulgence? Sometimes she checked her newsfeed and her friend's pages. That made him furious and led him to make images of her severed head in his lap.

Subj: RE: Downtown
<<sent to: kankanna on: November 14 @ 11:40:46 am>>


I read in my studies that a lot of cultures smoke as a comfort. That's not weird. Do you want me to send you cigarettes? I know someone who makes them, and they taste funny.

Are you going back to N like a murderer to the crime, or are you hoping for something other than nostalgia? I think it's a powerful place for you. This reminds me of something that happened when I grew up. I had a cat that didn't even acknowledge me, just came to me for food, but once I got sick of it and held it down and petted it the way I wanted on the kitchen floor, it would always go back to that spot and call for my attention. I'm not sure what that means. What would you do if you recognized him in N? Would you know his face? I think, if you keep going to N, someone else might find you there if he doesn't.

The weather here is icy. But a shinigami doesn't care, right?

Evram's hands smelled of the detergent Kanna's mother bought to wash her daughter's night clothes. His head was filled with the faces she made with her eyes closed. He had a car, a good one - his uncle was the principal of Gladiola High and the Welter family had done well enough for generations - but he preferred the train for some reason. A hood large enough to cover his well developed pretty, sleeves rolled up. Kanna had such a route that half of it was spent without her friends, and lately she'd taken to choosing a car that the ones that did come aboard eventually didn't see her.

He wondered if she was really too busy with her phone or if she noticed his leg against hers. Perhaps she was reading the mail he'd sent?

Subj: dream
<<sent to: kankanna on: November 15 @ 2:08:31 am>>

Slept a little. Dreamed of a heroine in one of my mangas. Her power is that she doesn't see the evil that the villains does, and then she can make it so it never happens. He's gaining on her though, even if he likes getting away with almost anything, as long as she doesn't see. Anyway. I dreamed that she was torn apart but there was this strange expression of elation on her face. Isn't that funny? Maybe people should let themselves be manhandled more. It could open the door to new sensations.

We're just people trying to discover how the next stretch of existence is going to be, right? We might find meaning anywhere.

How did you sleep?

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Paper Trails
« Last post by VenomousEve on January 18, 2018, 06:03:40 pm »
Subj: Foggy
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 10 @ 2:08:31 am>>

Hey sandboy,

I know it’s late, but I like writing to you when I can’t sleep. It makes me feel less alone—which is funny, because I’m not sure if I want company or not. I tried to go to bed early tonight and I even fell asleep for a little, but my dreams are so weird these days. I can never remember completely, when I wake up, but I’m anxious sand my mind feels so foggy. Do you ever have nights like that? I wonder if I’m going through a phase or if this is normal or what. I kind of think it has to do with that night, but I kind of feel like that’s making a big deal out of nothing, you know?

Sorry for rambling. I’m so glad we started talking, though. I mean, I know you’ve been following my stuff for a while, but it meant a lot to me that you reached out. You don’t feel like some empty voice on the internet anymore, and I think I need that kind of friendship right now. Like, you feel close and you feel separated from my mess at the same time. That’s weird, I guess, but it’s really good too. How do you get to sleep when you’re having trouble? It’d be alright if you wrote to me too, if it would help you. I’d feel less like I was always the one unloading on you. I already feel like such a selfish friend.


She laughed, and waved at Mel until the other girl turned the corner and moved out of sight. When she was alone, she stopped smiling. That was Kanna a lot, these days. Sometimes she noticed, but most of the time she was too tired. She turned on her heel and took the steps up to the door two at a time. There was nobody home, and the screen banged behind her when she let it slam shut. “I’m home,” she said to the quiet. In the kitchen, there was a note on the table. She swiped it, but didn’t read it. She was certain it would say something about food in the fridge for dinner.

Kanna grabbed an apple off the counter before she went upstairs to her room, and shut her door behind her. Sitting on her bed, backpack slung haphazardly across the far post, she crunched into her apple. She bit hard enough that she imagined the tip of her tongue would come off if she caught it between her teeth. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. She had two exams this week and a report due next Monday. She hadn’t started the report, and the tests would start to loom a little too heavy if she thought about them for too long.

Her grades had been slipping since that night. She was aware, sort of, but didn’t want to admit it. That gave her own mistakes too much power. Her mother didn’t need any more ammunition. She was perfectly good at withering away Kanna’s self-confidence without Kanna dabbling into her own guilt complexes.

Kanna huffed and scrambled to the edge of her bed, straining to perch her half-eaten apple on her desk without getting up. It slipped, and she watched it bump to the floor and roll until the curving marks of her teeth looked like fingers around the edges of the red round. She thought about picking it up, and then reached for her backpack instead. There was a pack of cigarettes tucked in an inner pocket, carefully wrapped in tissue like she’d thought they’d be less conspicuous. It was endearing, in a way, because it spoke honestly to the way she’d been fumbling through lately.

She pulled one of the sticks from the pack. Some of them had a dried shimmer on their paper. Kanna’s lip gloss. She never lit them, but something about the sneaking panic of being caught made placing the cigarettes between her wet red lips feel… well, she didn’t really know.

The small moan that escaped her did. Tossed back in her pillows, dark hair askew and that cigarette hanging from her pretty, frowning mouth. Her fingers were rough. Not because her skin wasn’t young and soft, but because her gestures were frustrated. Almost like it was punishment. Kanna didn’t mean to, but when she closed her eyes she ended up trying to remember the things that had happened before. It had been horrendously cold when she’d woken up in that strange bed. Her hand jerked, wrist fighting the waistband of her uniform skirt.

Subj: Downtown
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 14 @ 11:34:06 am>>

Hey sandboy,

Would you believe it if I told you that I just got back home? It’s probably nothing to be proud of, but I’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking out. I took the bus downtown and went back to The Network. I thought they were going to turn me away, honestly. The guy at the door asked for my card and I had to pretend like I’d left it at home. I’m pretty sure he knew I was underage. Hah. I probably should have been studying. Mr. Welter is going to hate me. Ugh. I’m awful.

Is it totally messed up that I keep going back? I mean, I know what happened. I think. At least, I have a good guess. Either way, it was really stupid of me the first time. I don’t know why I keep going back like I belong there or… like I want other answers. It’s just a bar. Nothing about it or the people there care about me.

Did I tell you I bought a pack of cigarettes? I bought it from a guy that peddles booze behind our high school. People call him Rank Pete, because he smells to high heaven. But he’s got a valid ID and you pay him double so he can get himself a beer for every beer you buy off him. Or pack of cigarettes. I don’t smoke, but I bought them anyway. Story of my life, huh? I’m not really sure who I am right now. Can you tell? I think my art is getting weird because of it, but I don’t hate that. I just wish everything else would fall in line.

How is the weather where you are? It’s cold here.


Kanna woke up with a jolt, peeling her cheek from her open text book. Beside her, a cold cup of tea told her that her mother had been by. She was at once appreciative and mortified. Kanna thought she’d gotten better about locking her door. She sighed. Reaching for her window, she grit her teeth and pushed up hard, the pane groaning in its frame. Old house. The night air was frigid, but she didn’t mind. It would help keep her awake. Kanna took a sip of her tea. It was bitter from steeping too long. Her lips puckered as she fished the tea bulb out with her fingertips and nestled it on the saucer.

She went to bed at four in the morning, and dreamt of strangers groping her breasts. 
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Verse on January 17, 2018, 08:54:36 pm »
Ebelt waited to be impaled, ready to lift a hand to calm the knights if they decided to barrage forward. She returned his sword slowly, and he looked down at the prodigal blade finding its snug room with some expectation in his expression. The crowd was amused, and didn’t chime in when she called him a tease.

“There’s more where that came from.” He said back, stomach still remembering her knee. He wondered with it would have been fun to throw himself on the floor with her, at a tight distance that made their long weapons useless. It would not happen now, he thought, when she turned him her back with a good enough rapier still in his hand. Would she have hated it if he ran her through now, when her arms were raised?

Instead he lifted the Chrysanthemum ornament and then stabbed it into the floor, leaving it swinging before rushing at her from behind, thinking to pick her up and holding her over his head, as though to present the crowd with their winner. There needed to be life after this duel, too. “Your champion!” he called out with laughter in his throat as the crowd, laced with her guards, brimmed closer. “Do with her as you wish!” he said and they cheered with elation. He threw her on top of their reaching arms, and stuck out his tongue at her if she was carried away.


Hiev was trembling, frightened, but his mouth wasn’t dry. He looked from Phellar’s silver drowned irises and then down at the imminent threat at level with his own head. He swallowed and felt a numbness creep through his body, the kind that rendered him helpless. “No” he breathed and finally turned around clawing his way further in. Why wouldn’t his limbs move for him. The floor was cold as he dragged his length over it.

Phellar laughed behind the scurrying king. It seemed he wanted to reach a rather luxurious rug further in. Phellar and his swinging companion followed until Hiev had his first hand on the softer material, which hosted only a single Chaise Lounge. Did Hiev think this was a game where the elegant furniture would be safe? Like a giant come over the wall, Phellar bent down over the whimpering king-pretender and hooked four fingers into his pants, and pulled them down to his knees, exposing more of his milk thighs to go with his perfectly white, usually concealed cheeks.

“Phellar, no!” Hiev called out, but the room swallowed his voice. Phellar got on his knees, also, and put a hand on the side of Hiev’s face to keep him down while he lifted the exposed hips with his free hand. What a pretty, pale kiss Hiev had, raised and ready. “I-I’ll call for everyone.” Hiev said and tried to look to the side to see Phellar. He reached for more rug to pull at, and ended up shoving some into his own mouth to stifle a scream when Phellar prodded with a finger.

“I like to get in your head, you see, it’s all I ever do, become everyone’s ghost. And I think for a sissy like you, my way to your head is through your heart.” He removed his finger and spit where it had been. Hiev coughed into the rug. “So think of this as me lancing your heart, rather, King.”

Hiev became faint, and blushed all over when Phellar got to work, joining them. Phellar petted Hiev under his shirt, still on, on his spine, as he built a rhythm. “You cry, baby King, but you’re rather good at this role, aren’t you? So relaxed and allowing.” Not that he wasn’t taut.

The pace grew faster, when Phellar thought Hiev could appreciate it. Through the act he undressed the little king completely, a show of dominance, to keep his own pants while the other one was bare but for his pointed shoes. Sometimes Hiev was made to straddle his new master like a lover, and others they weren’t looking at each other. Most of the time Hiev’s belt was around his own wrists. On many occasions Hiev was staring blindly directly at Grayson, but was either lost to the torture that roused his nerves, or he’d been made not to care by the exotic transgression. It was a debauched spectacle, Hiev being violated.


Hermes greeted the teacher when she came around, and liked her more than he already did when she fussed over Lyanna. It felt strangely connecting, having someone talk to Lya while she sat on his lap. Surely Jen would know otherwise, but perhaps he hoped she mistook himself and his dancing partner for an item. Even with Jen's familiarity with Lyanna, she could still think something was beginning tonight. It was odd that he had these thoughts. He'd not entertained them much, before.

"Yes, she's taking care of herself." he injected and wrapped his arms around her waist. It wasn't intrusive, what he'd said, he was simply assuring Jen Lya was responsible with her injury. He nodded to the teacher when she went away. Hermes understood why Jen by far was winning many locker room comparisons in the boy's gym, but he'd never really appreciated her that way. He had a craving for a maternal figure as well, as any child raised in Versailles, but it had not gotten a say in his other preferences. Perhaps he was more for an athlete?

"You know her well, don't you?" he said as he watched the woman leave. "I fell asleep in class once after one of our shows. She let me sleep and when I woke up she'd put notes on my desk."

Iora had been scowling when Jen approached the pair, but hadn't minded much when she'd only given attention to Lyanna. "Not at all." she replied when Jen sat. She slid a glass over to the other teacher and lifted one of her own. "That's a pretty dress you have." her tone was almost accusatory but she drank quickly to make it harder for Jen to reply with something tart, if that was her plan. Iora was usually like this with Ms. Tanaka.

"I thought you wouldn't be here tonight. Most just accept their invitation and then don't come." It was said a little like a question. Her stern nature melted visibly when her eyes stuck at Idella and Luna. Her heart broke when put against the beautiful girls of Versailles, and with Idella it was almost unbearable. She opened her book and took the pen from its spine to jot something down. "He's strapping, isn't he?" she said after closeing the leather bind again.
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by VenomousEve on January 17, 2018, 07:33:45 pm »
She almost spoke up to protest, and did throw a vaguely wounded look in her king’s direction. Tossed her to the jackal so easily. Fern sighed loud enough to make Scarlett smile wide. “Oh, don’t be so tart.” The red-head chided. Fern gave her a withering stare.

“Don’t be so coy.” Fern replied. That made Scarlett laugh and shrug, but a light hand on the knight’s back insisted they would go take that drink. When Idella had gone, Fern thought to make it straight to the point. “Anyhow, what do you want?” She asked. Scarlett huffed.

“You’re so prickly, God. I just wanted to chat. We got along at one point, don’t you remember? You, me, and Wist?” Scarlett complained. Fern shook her head. It had been business, and they’d all been willing parties. Not friends. It had also been when Fern came to understand exactly how willing Cereus was to dig into peoples’ business. She never had any particular love for Hayden, but Cereus had gone on a deep dive for dirt. In the end, all Fern and Wist had wanted was enough negligence from Versailles to allow them to pressure the administration for Sable’s belongings. It had worked, and Fern had never asked for her former king’s secrets.

“You have plenty of people to chat with at an event like this. So, you can just be blunt about what you’re looking for, you know?” Fern gave Scarlett a tight-lipped smile. Scarlett looked a little put out.

“Well, now I want to know why Idella is looking for a queen, if I’m going to be honest. They’re out of fashion this go round, don’t you know?” Scarlett muttered. Fern shrugged.

“Fashion is fleeting. And ‘looking for’ makes it sound too much like there’s a hunt, and there’s not.” Fern said. “Considering, maybe.” She accepted a glass of champagne from Apollo, who was hovering over the food and drink like it was his personal responsibility. She gave him a quick smile. The Rose Prince was likable and deeply engrossed in the culinary arts. He didn’t stoop to regular serving, but he liked to play chef for Rose’s big events. That came with a little service, and most Versailles girls did not mind. “Which, if we’re going to be candid here, is the normal state of things. If there is an empty title, there is always consideration of filling it. Hyacinth isn’t exactly an exception.” She scoffed. Scarlett shrugged.

“Fine, fine. I know it’s not terribly big news yet, but it’s still fun. You know what fun is, Fern?” Scarlett hummed. Fern arched one brow. She was certain they had different definitions of the concept. “Anyway, I heard about Ebelt visiting your Garden before the ball. He and Wicker had a little preview dance then, right? I was just wondering if this was planned entertainment. It would be a cute story for the paper.” Scarlett said. She sounded innocent, which meant she wasn’t, and Fern frowned because Hyacinth news was traveling too fast.

“Why don’t you ask Prince Grayson? He seems to like you. Maybe he’ll want to help you get your story.” Fern said blandly. Scarlett snickered.

“He’s got better things to tell me about, whether he wants to admit it or not. I think I have Wisteria to thank for that.” Scarlett said. Fern glanced at the taller girl, meeting her gaze for the first time.


Luna smiled when Idella came over. “Ah, good to see you, Hyacinth.” She laughed at the idea of the duelists on the catwalk. “I should have an event arranged. Perhaps to preview my next collection? Almi, Wicker, and Ebelt walking?” Luna could picture it, and it wasn’t an unflattering image. Still, the other two would certainly pale in comparison to practiced Almi and her perpetual radiance. She shrugged when Idella put her Alios in the middle of the present duel. “Tonight’s Helen of Troy?” she grinned. “We do our best to facilitate others, as you know.” She nodded toward Wicker, who was receiving enthused cheering from all the Garden. “The hero of the ball. You keep good knights, Idella.”


Jen Tanaka was threading along the periphery of the party, making an obligatory appearance in the early hours of the night. She’d leave before the ball carried to far into the evening. It was a courtesy to the students, not that many seemed to feel they should hold back their behavior in the presence of their instructors. The Versailles orphans were a delightfully spoiled bunch. She supposed it was also safer for the administration. Parties inevitably became more debauched the longer the alcohol and hormones flowed. If she wasn’t there to see problems, she couldn’t intervene. Versailles students did not care to have their professors intervene.

She had seen Lyanna out on the floor with the Chrysanthemum dormitory’s current alpha male—their king, as the students would say. The lithe blonde had looked out of sorts, which was rare for the ballerina. As a concerned adult and well-meaning friend, she did stop to see how Lya was doing. She found the dancer perched in her partner’s lap. “Lyanna. Hermes.” Jen said, nodding to them both. “It’s nice to see you. You both look lovely.” Lyanna smiled. She liked Jen a good deal and had often confided in her. Sometimes she could pretend Jen Tanaka was almost like a mother, or what she’d imagine a mother to be like. Maybe a big sister.

“So do you,” Lya said. Jen was not wearing anything designer. She did not make the paycheck to do so, nor did she care. Beyond that, she had the good fortune of looking classically stunning with little effort. It was her lucky genetics that had probably put her in such good favor with many of the young men at Versailles too. Tonight, she was in a simple black dress, tea length, which accentuated her petite waist and delicate ankles.

“Are you doing alright? You seemed a bit flustered out there on the floor.” Jen asked. It wasn’t as if she could do much, even if Lyanna admitted that Phellar had been upsetting in some way. Lyanna gave her a small smile.

“I’m fine. I hurt my ankle this morning, so dancing is a little difficult right now, That’s all.” She did not explain that Phellar had caused the injury to begin with. Jen nodded sympathetically, but did not press the issue further.

“I’ll leave you to your fun then.” Jen left the two before lingering with students would bring curious stares. She took a seat next to Iona. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, though she already had.

Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Ara 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.
OOC Discussion / Re: {Majik Punk}
« Last post by Verse on January 17, 2018, 01:15:27 pm »
Can you believe I started this intending it to be sword extracting all the time?
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