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Fantasy 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 : 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

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Nothingness

Nothingness

Two Thousand Club
Rejoice!

Yet another full year has passed and once again, it was time for the Annual Fighting Tournament known throughout Haven. The tournament was held in the Neutral Zone just like every other year, anyone throughout any of the clans were allowed to participate. Humans and demons were separated into two different rosters, this was to keep the battles fair between contestants and by the end of the tournament, one winner of each race would be declared. This single individual would be given a large sum of money and a title to be held for an entire year of 'Strongest Demon/Human of the year'. After receiving the title, the winner is given a chance to go against their fellow winner if they so wish. In this case, the demon is not allowed to use any of their abilities and the human is given a temporary boosting serum provided by the scientists of the Bloody Moon Clan, the serum is not deadly and does not have any overly damaging side-effects but rather it will only last a total of half an hour before it will wear off. Consistent use of the serum however can lead to severe muscle and tissue tearing which can cause temporary to permanent damage to the user's internal organs in the process.

While there is no additional reward for defeating the champion of the other race, the idea alone that a human defeating a demon or even a demon defeating the 'strongest' of humans is always held with a small personal victory on its own.
Since this tournament is held only once every year, while it is not mandatory, many citizens who come to watch the fights also come simply at the possible opportunity that they would maybe end up seeing all four of the leaders or all four of their second-in-commands present at once together for once. Some even wish for the possibility that one day they would be able to witness a fight between the leaders just to see the overwhelming power that they held. Of course, as leaders, they are usually not allowed to join the tournament openly, although there have been rumors and myths about how the leaders and second-in-commands have disguised themselves in previous years just to join the fight and purposely gave up in rounds before just to avoid making themselves known.

Just like every other year, the tournament was being held on a weekend and most if not all jobs were given the chance to close their doors for the duration of the tournament and the following couple of days after to recover from days of drinking and partying before heading back to work. Also, as expected, the tournament was also held during the evening just so that fireworks and other lights could be on display to make the scene of the outside stadium arena be all that much more colorful and entertaining to see and watch.
The outside stadium arena was in the shape of a large oval-shaped rectangle, at the center was a massive arena where the contestants of the round could have plenty of room to battle comfortably. Surrounding the area were hundreds of seats for citizens to sit and watch if they hadn't preferred to stand up in the booths to have easier access to food and drinks.

On one specific side of the large stadium, at the very top was a large booth, inside were eight seats, designated each with specific clan symbols that were meant mainly for the leaders and their second-in-commands to sit and observe the tournament. While on the opposite end of the stadium was a large screen that would display the 'time' 'name of the contestants when battling' and a 'life bar' as to determine just how long they were allowed to fight before they would be considered defeated.
 

  • C H A R A C T E R S

    • Naomi Kuroda | Ravinca 2nd In-Comand
      • Mentions: Yuhwa
    • Luciana De Blase | Ravinca Trader
      • pre-gaming at some bar
    • Silvester Pierce | Ash Wolf
      • Interacting with: Alarick and Melania "Nova" / "Blackout"
    • Melania Chrona | Ash Wolf Supplier & Black Rose Agent
      • Interacting with: Alarick, Silvester, and Bubbles
 
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The Boss
Clancy
location
The Stadium
tags
The Grand Fool The Grand Fool Remembrance Remembrance Phayne Phayne
Even if the event wasn't going to start until the evening, a lot of early risers were already at the arena for a variety of reasons. Though, the people that showed up this early had a tendency to either be especially passionate about the event or... to put it lightly, eccentric. Maybe that's the very reason why an imposing, dark-haired, and notably important man was there.

"Clancy!" A feminine voice chimed! The man himself. Bloody Moon's fearless leader. The Child of Prophecy. A man with many titles, but only one true name: Clancy.

He walked with a noticeably voluptuous woman under both of his arms, but he didn't seem focused on either of them. Instead, his attention was locked on the phone in his hand. Using his thumb, he tapped away at the keyboard on the screen and sent the same text to three people. His second in command, his right hand man, and a soldier whom he saw a lot of potential in. The messages read, "I want you to fight in the tournament. It doesn't matter if you win."

While he was waiting for a response, one of the women gently grabbed his chin and pulled his gaze away from his phone. She looked him dead in the eye and gave him a suggestive smile. "Didn't you hear me? I thought you were gonna show us the special booth..." She pressed herself closer against his arm while the other woman softly put the side of her face against his flank.

Clancy chuckled a little bit before offering a smooth reply. "Chill. We're gonna have a lot of fun today." His reassuring voice dismissed any doubt she may have had as he turned to the other woman. "Hey, do you mind?" And like clockwork, the woman gave a brief nod before reaching into his pocket. She pulled out a cigarette and delicately placed it between his lips. The other girl pulled out a lighter, and with a few flicks, summoned a small flame that burnt the end of his tab. "Appreciate it."

The trio made their way to the clan leaders' booth. As expected, none of the others were there yet. Perfect. Clancy took a seat and ushered his two "friends" over. "Let's burn some time." He suggested, putting on a faint smile. The two women giggled, knowing full and well how he intended on burning some time. One of them walked over to the light switch, and with a single flip, filled the room with darkness.

code by @Nano
 
coded by natasha.
  • Just a clown- Roderick Halcyon

    LOCATION: The Stadium
    MENTIONS: N/A

    Had it truly been a full year already? Man, time sure does fly by in the blink of an eye. But this wasn't a day for such dreary thoughts, the entirety of Haven City would bear witness to an event few ever dare to miss out on, the Annual Fighting Tournament! Such a glorious contest of strength had forever been a staple of the city, its renowned famed drew people in from around the word like bears to a beehive. It's no wonder then that the past couple of days had kept Roderick more than just a little busy, as tourism always skyrocketed during this time and this Golden Coconut wanted to ensure they any and all tourists had an unforgettable time. Sure, the festering tension caused a noticeable decline in visitors when compared to previous years of peace, BUT, as I previously mentioned, this was no time to worry about such things.

    During such an active day for the tourism branch Roderick counted himself lucky to be able to arrive at the neutral zone at such an early time, all thanks to the rest of the workers who insisted him to let them handle things for today. With a now free agenda Roderick took most of the morning helping out a handful of the Black Rose hospitals with tasks such as simple deliveries, moving around heavy equipment, etc. Even if the care for the tournament fighters didn't turn out to fall onto the hands of their clan, Roderick wanted to make sure they'd be ready for any and all emergencies. But with that we conclude any and all busywork, unless for the time being. Now came the time for leisure.

    For such an occasion Roderick had a hard time choosing what outfit would best suit the mood. Sure his usual clothes would be sufficient and he'd look spectacular in them (As always), but this was the Annual Fighting Tournament we're talking about, surely there was a more fitting choice. And then it hit him, an epiphany, a good hundred years ago Roderick recalled watching an old human movie revolving around a gladiator and his climb towards the top of the food chain. During said film many of the other fighters would wear light clothing that barely covered their chest, a perfect choice to pay homage to their own Haven "gladiators". Such a unique piece of clothing would prove hard to find though, or at least that would be the case for anyone else that wasn't this Golden Coconut. For you see, Roderick knew that hidden within a labyrinth of alleyways lay a store, one that mostly sold leather clothing, from women's dresses, to boots, to even masks. Such a place would be the treasure trove Roderick needed to plunder. And so, a few days before the main event, the Black Rose's second-in-command took a nice and long time to browse the shop, thus arriving at what he was wearing today. The picture speaks for itself. Though in terms of pants the shop generally lacked options, and so Roderick chose to accompany the top with one of his own pants. A modern take on gladiators, if you will. Though in his own excitement he had forgotten one crucial thing: Asking for his sister's approval of the outfit.

    Back to the present, Roderick practically strode towards the stadium with a boastful swagger and a cheeky smirk, as it would seem many onlookers appreciated his modern take on a gladiatorial outfit. Heh, they might even be confusing him for one of the fighters at this point. Despite the nature of the event being nocturnal, Roderick chose to arrive early mostly to enjoy the sight of the venue slowly filling up with people, both humans and demons alike. It was always a treat to witness and, without fail, got him pumped up to watch the fights, plus this meant he could get to one of the seats closest to the battlegrounds in order to truly enjoy the fighting. Yeah, he did have the VIP room reserved for the clans' leadership, but the action just wasn't the same there. Still he'd have to go up there eventually, he wouldn't wanna give Black Rose a bad image by not attending. For the time being though Roderick had finally made his way into the stadium and stood as close to the battlefield as he legally could. Like a short-fused firework, Roderick's excitement exploded, despite the fact nothing was happening, in the loudest way possible. "ALL RIIIIIIIGHT EVERYBODY, LET'S GET PUMPED UP!" Roderick exclaimed at the top of his lungs, his word's reach drastically enhanced thanks to his voice manipulation powers, even reaching the ears of those who had still yet to enter the venue.
    coded by natasha.
 

  • CODE BY SEROBLISS
    Airen O'Bechtel
    SERPENT'S KISS LEADER

    Interacting: The Grand Fool The Grand Fool // RoninN7 RoninN7

    What a day and this was just the beginning.

    A secretary had knocked on her door, twice now. It had to be important then. Yet Airen O'Bechtel couldn't bring herself to turn to the person requesting her presence. Her office had been quiet for the morning. It's interior design equaled the one of her apartment not far from the head quarters. Not black, rather a darker shade of grey. It was minimalistc and slick. A smooth couch in the corner, broad window replacing the wall to the outside. Her desk had round edges that fell to the ground, it matched the walls. The walls were made of black marbe, golden veins flowed through. She installed cold lighted lamps that stuck to the walls. There was no huge lamp as it would have not fitted at all. Her office had been based on the principle to be illuminated by the daylight.

    She tucked at a red strain of hair, curled it around her fingers. She didn't had to open, technically. It was the day of the tournament, a free day for everyone. Apparently not for Clara, the secretary that had been working for Barackius hundreds of years back. Now the old lady stayed to pesker her. So great. She loved work enthusiasm not work alcoholics.

    "Clara," the sirenical demoness said despite her better will. Her door ran open instantly and a hasteful dame stepped inside. She had night black hair, like usually spun into a bun at the back of her head. Her clothes, though, had a more relaxing aura today. Usually, Clara dresses in a suit. She claimed a dress would not fit her in such age. But that wasn't true. As a demon, her human form held up to a pretty good standard and she might be able to fool newcomers. That was if they didn't see the greyish strains of hair mingled in her mane.

    "Your immediate presence is requested, Madame Airen," she told her and the straight face faltered slightly. Clara never messed up. She crooked her brow at the elderly demon… who was in dire need of a long vacation apparently. Today was a free day but no. Barackius' secretary had other plans.

    "Can't you send my brother? I am waiting for Miss Archer, to go to the tournament?" Perhaps Clara had forgotten that Airen's presence had to bless people somewhere else. Why, in all hell's name, was an emergeny meeting called in! She almost- almost- rolled her eyes.

    "Young Zirke has not showed up yet," she told her. It wasn't a surprise that her useless twin vanished from time to time. He had been gone since Wednesday. Which meant he had missed their movie night and no one missed the movie night. Airen swore to unleash hell on him. Not just because it had been her turn but because he missed how Earl and Emma broke up in Fortunate Romance. Now she couldn't brag to Sofia about it without spoiling this fat idiot.

    "Then find him," she groaned and rested her head on her palm. Clara fixed her stance to a scolding mother's. Oh dear, help me.

    "Airen O'Bechtel, Barackius didn't name you his heir to be lazy," she said and punctured every word with a swing of her finger. "You are the leader. Tournament or no tournament, this is your task. So, you better get the hell up or I will drag you there!"

    Would anyone else, besides Sofia, talk to her like that she'd burn them right there and then. But for 800 years that elder treated her like an imponent child whilst she never had any of her own. Just like Barackius became a second father to her, Clara had been somewhat of a motherly figure. Or rather a nuisance.

    "I think you might even like it. It could spike your hunter senses," she added with an enormous grin that was too large for her face. The first thing the old leader taught Airen was to never- and he meant never, ever- get on the bad side of Clara. So, whatever the hell this old female hid, it had been enough to scare the fair Barackius to death. Sometimes Airen understood his fears just a tad too good.

    "What do you mean by that?" Her hunting senses? Did her scouts found any criminals lurking in her territory? That might be a good excuse or rather reason to disturb her. Clara's eyes glinted with what Airen guessed was triumph. She came here full knowingly that the siren had only come to the head quarters to wait for Sofia. It was a small victory to catch her interest.

    "Your little spy- Lang- came in and told us to get you. The reason- oho! You will never guess." With that, her secretary exited her office. For a couple of heartbeats Airen simply sat on her chair. Lang. A wicked male with quite the talent and a friend of her brother. And whatever he had to offer, she'd gladly take in. Airen jumped up from her seat and quickly caught up to Clara.

    "Tell me what it is about," she mumbled and turned her pleading eyes to the elderly demoness. Yeah, that never worked. Clara simply shook her head.

    The head quarters were quiet. Airen supposed the whole lot of staff went to the tournament or at least prepared for it as it would only begin in the evening. Only a few guards had been not allowed to leave. She didn't want her territory to be left alone entirely. Especially not the library built into this gigantic building. Besides the shut off library, it held a lot of living spaces as well for the staff that couldn't find another place. It had kitchens, training areas, yoga areas and even a pool despite them being surrounded by a lake. Barackius had crated the vicinity in order to be excluded from any dangers approaching per foot. For a siren the perfect playground.

    Her entire clan had been living besides rivers and canals. Streets were not needed, such were cars. They'd mess with the harvest. Only the farmers had more exessive machines to lift a bit work off their shoulders. The rest of her people enjoyed riding the bike, others loved their car too. She didn't ban them, not at all. But many had realized the wasted money they'd spent on something that was exchanged with boats or other public transports. They shipped off their earnings to Haven per ships as well and for a few hundred years it hadn't been an issue.

    Though a lot of crooks and ill demons used the system to transport their goods. Lang had been set on watch in the slums to watch out for any bigger events taking place in the smuggler part of her territory. That he was back and requesting an emergency meeting- adrenaline spiked in her bones.

    Airen shot a quick text into the group chat with Sofia and the idiot. »Lang got some news. Immediate presence at emergency meeting!« She grinned to herself as she added: »@Soffie:3 Need your emotional support ASAP. Clara is gonna gnaw my ear off with her bickering!«

    Zirke Hadn't responded to their texts either. If she'd scrolled up now, there would be a sector of capatalized messages and endless taggings with her brothers name. She saved him as Fucker#2 in her phone. It consisted of Sofia and her throwing insults at Zirke for missing their weekly dosis of Fortunate Romance, which should have been a crime at this point.

    Clara paced beside her, humming her usual melody. She had heard an equal one coming from Barackius whenever the old geezer had been busy. It didn't take her long to connect one dot to the other yet she decided to not pry into their business.

    They descendet down a spiral staircase in white. Airen kept the interior design of the head quarters in bright, yet soothing colors. She once read that colors can in fact influence the work ethinicity. Darker colors brought in a gloomy vibe, whilst brighter once brought the motivation. For herself, the darker designs had a more calming effect than a gloomy one, but perhaps that was just her.

    Within turning left on the main floor, where every meeting room was located and a few offices of her council, they arrived before the emergency meeting room. One floor underneath laid the kitchens and in an additional building, reached by either the front yard or by following the hallways to the right and left, the dorms. After all, the offices and such just had to be centered. Clara opened her the door and held it open.

    Upon entering, the males and females who were called in whenever a meeting like this occured, stood and bowed. She gave them an acknowledging nod before they sat down again. The room only had long table and was different than many other rooms in her headquarters. Dark, a few lights and the table. No window, no vents, nothing. Only a white chalkboard with a beaming device in order to visibly show a secret operation plan or such. Airen allowed her gaze to wander across the council members. They didn't look frightened, which was a good thing. She didn't feel like solving any crisis today.

    "Okay, quit being mysterious," she said and pinched her nose. "I am in a haste, as well as many of you. Just tell me what's going on."


    Her eyes narrowed at Lang. "You better have a good reason to call me here."

 
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    Living On
    — [Clover] by O3RO








    mood
    Relaxed


    outfit
    Ref.


    interactions
    N/A


    tags
    N/A











    Avaddon / Axel


    ― "To be the best, you must be able to handle the worst."




    "Another rum and coke, Axel!" Shouted a middle-aged human man as he slammed his cup of ice onto the bar counter. "Get me pina-colada" Yet another customer called out, this one being a younger female demon on the opposite side of the counter. Meanwhile, the entire time the bartender, Axel; had been holding onto an empty glass in one hand while cleaning the inside of it with a rag in the other. Rather than answer any of the customers who were attempting to get his attention in such a rude manner, he focused onto one of the many televisions that was hung on the wall to watch as new reporters were walking up to random civilians asking them about how they felt about the upcoming event. Approaching even those who were lining up to the multiple available sign-up stands right outside the entrance to the stadium.

    Hearing some of the responses be that of excitement and others hoping that they'd be able to witness at least one of the leaders make an appearance in the ring for once. Some of those interviewed were even people who were going to compete in the tournament, their cockiness to believe that they would come out on top was humorous at the very least. "Hmn, this year is sure to be interesting." Mumbling under his breath, he continued to watch the news until his attention was taken over towards the drunken male who had demanded another drink from him earlier who had now been attempting to climb over the counter. Watching as the man messily swung himself over the counter only to grab onto the countertop to steady himself, as he stood hunched over, he pointed a finger towards Axel who had raised a brow towards the intruder. "-hic- H-hey..I thought -hic-...I told you..to get me another -hic- drink..! Hu-hic-hurry it up!" As the man tried to intimidate the bartender, Axel only stared with an eventual narrowed gaze before taking a single step back only to open up the side panel of the bar counter to instruct the customer to return to his seat. "Please, go back to your seat, sir. I shall get your drink soon enough." Rather than ne rude or deny the man his drink, Axel knew well enough that if given enough time, the man would eventually either sober up or just end up passing out at his seat anyway, but having him behind the counter was a risk of damaging the other bottles that had been sitting on the shelves behind him.

    "No! I'm not leavin'-hic- till you make me-hic-my drink!" As man stubbornly stomped his foot in the ground as though he were about to have a temper tantrum, it was clear enough that trying to get this man to leave via talking to him was going to be much more of a hassle than it was to simply remove him forcibly. Although Axel was never the type of person to lay his hands on his customers if it was not needed, that was until the man reached for one of the bottles of Vodka did Axel approach the man and grip his wrist to avoid letting him lift the bottle from the shelf. "That's not yours, sir. Let it go." With his voice deepening and grip tightening around the man's wrist further, the drunken human attempted to raise his hand with the bottle in his grasp still. "I'm giving you till the count of three, sir. If you do not release it, I will personally remove you. One." With his threat, it was almost as though the stranger showed no fear to what the bartender could do to him, even if he knew the bartender had been a demon. "Two." Still not releasing the bottle, Axel placed his hand onto the stranger's shoulder with his free hand to prepare the removal. "Three." Finally, with the last number counted, Axel squeezed the man's wrist till he had released the bottle and began shouting in pain from the sheer amount of pressure placed around his wrist.

    In an instant, Axel swung the man over the countertop only to slam him down upon his back, leaving Axel remaining on the opposite end of the bar still, showing no signs of exhaustion to lift a large human male with such ease. Patting down his suit, he returned to serving the other customers their drinks happily while the arrogant customer had passed out from being flipped onto his back with such force while already being intoxicated as he was. Many of the other customers paid little mind to the event as those who knew Axel well enough were more than wise enough to know that this was normal, as long as one did not bother him, than Axel was one of the friendliest bartenders out there. Although those that did not know him were rushing to the side of the passed-out drunkard, checking on his health to make sure he was alright.







    coded by xayah.ღ

 
Leo Teluvon, Ash Wolf Seer​


Rows of teeth, stalking towards their prey. A myriad of alternating images punctuated by screams and sounds of flesh being torn. The first symbol, burning into his retinas, the strange spiral surrounded by the glowing runes, now spattered with the blood. The screaming stopped. The thing raised it’s head and screeched into the sky. It turned, and Leo could understand that it could see. It could sense the intrusion. More teeth. More teeth and blood and-

BANG

The sharp pain caused by slamming his fist into the metal table before him was enough to bring his focus back into his own eyes. Leo took it into his other hand, already feeling the light fracture forming from the force of the impact. No matter, he thought. The demon blood coursing through his veins would quickly take care of that.
The visions had been steadily getting worse. Leo was of course always plagued by them, in every hour, waking or otherwise, but the times when he had fully zoned out, unable to escape this alien vista that his own mind stuck him in, were steadily increasing. Perhaps it was the inaction, or withdrawal acting up, or some occult manifestation that aggravated his senses. He couldn’t be certain, and the uncertainty only served to ennervate him further.

At least he’d get what he needed soon. The materials with which to concoct more of his…medicine. Either that would help, or it would show him what wasn’t the problem. At this point, he’d take anything. Unfortunately…that also meant going outside.

It wasn’t that he hated the outside world, he reasoned as he began getting dressed. Despite what many joked, he wasn’t some reclusive misanthrope who balked at the idea of having to converse with ‘the uncultured’. It was a far more humbling issue of not knowing what the hell he was doing. As a kid, he didn’t get to talk much to other people, kids or otherwise. As an adult, other people didn’t quite want to talk to him. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t good company, with the way his hands trembled and eyes kept trying to blink away imaginary horrors. The few that treated him well were rarities, and he cherished each and every one greatly, but still had no bloody clue what he was expected to do or say in return.

He finished putting on his outfit as he ruminated over the issue. He was dressed fairly simply, with tattered black jeans, an oversized grey hoodie and some well-worn combat boots. A pair of contact lenses, sunglasses and thick gloves served as a crude, if effective way to conceal his unnatural features from the world. It wasn’t an outfit that sent any kind of message or expressed some sort of personality, rather a simple, utilitarian getup that would make it easier to go unnoticed in a crowd. In theory, such wasn’t needed. Haven was neutral territory, after all. But it was better to be safe than sorry. Too many demons revelled in their power, languishing in the horror their true forms and horrible magics could inflict on the far less capable humans. Supposedly, that was the whole point of the Ash Wolves existing. Supposedly.


Getting into Haven was somewhat difficult-it was, after all, guarded by demons. Now, he was certain many of his fellows chose to solve the issue rather, let’s say, directly. After all, dead guards have a drastically lower chance of raising alarms(although never zero-necromancy was a rare, but possible demonic power). Leo himself, however, didn’t like that option. Not for any moral reasons, perish the thought. It was simply to avoid a possible tightening of security that the appearance of dead guards was sure to inevitably bring about, sooner or later. Better to leave the demons complacent and open to a devastating strike, than waste their vulnerabilities on petty murders of inconsequential grunts.

And yet, the prospect of firing several slugs into a patrol was so damn tempting, it required a serious mental effort on his part to resist it, effort that demanded energy he could barely muster on days like these. Perhaps…Perhaps just this once couldn’t hurt?
The weapon materialized in his hands with a low groan, a screech of metal and agonized magic. It itched to unless it’s corruption on the demonic, he could feel it pulsating with malice in his hands. He took a steady breath, readied the weapon, and rapidly spun towards the guard outpost that barred one of the entrances to Haven…only to find it deserted. The fuck?

He cautiously moved further in, sticking to the shadows and side alleys, trying to understand what could’ve possibly caused this lapse in security. Was something about to go down? Did the Demon Clans set some sort of trap for his kind? Did-

His foot bumped into something fleshy. Looking down with a start, he saw two eviscerated bodies. A quick examination revealed them to be clean kills, in that odd pattern that nanobots left on their victims. He sighed. How typical of Anastasia to just decide to barge into Haven without alerting anyone. To what end? He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

At least the aftermath of the murders could be useful. He leaned down, tuning his PDA to the frequency used by the guards while donning a pair of headphones. The encryption was almost insultingly easy for his software to bypass-he imagined that was what having super-powerful magic does to your technological development. It makes you complacent, overconfident in your superpowers ability to carry the day no matter what.

And there. Comms were breached. The chatter of demons filled his ears. So far, so benign-no outpost was reported as missing yet, and the whole thing gave him a pretty good idea of how security was positioned. Always important information to have, when you’re outnumbered and outmatched in a city controlled by the enemy.


Dismissing his weapon and stepping out the alley, his eyes quickly found his leader, waiting in line for…something. Not daring to interrupt whatever was going on, he simply waited for just a second to catch her gaze, making a small gesture to let her know he was around if she needed help and praying to whatever God was out there she didn’t pry on what he was doing here. Then he set off quickly towards the stadium where his contact would hopefully be.


Wait.

The thought came to his mind sharply, cutting through the pointless noise that constantly plagued him. If the boss was here, perhaps shit was, indeed, about to go down. Anastasia was not one for R&R on most days, and she sure as hell didn’t seem hammered. Could his first instinct be correct? Could the Clan Leaders actually be plotting something?

Time to find out. He sat down in a quiet corner without much foot traffic and focused his power outwards. His sight sharpened further and further until it severed itself from his body, and took his perception with it. Unseen and intangible, he floated through to the stadium nearby, taking stock of what he was seeing, trying to detect anything out of the ordinary. He was pleased when he didn’t quite find it. No unusual amount of security, no searches, no hidden ambushes. Just for additional safety, he moved himself to the Clan Leader area, wanting to be extra certain nothing was amiss…

He immediately and vividly regretted it. Seeing what was happening would probably be at least somewhat distasteful for most people-but for someone who could see the demonic forms of the participants flickering in and out of their physical forms, it was downright alarming. Leo rapidly terminated the power, returning to his own body with a start. What kind of leader was that guy? Was that a normal thing? He felt the taste of iron in his mouth as his face was scrunched into a grimace of distaste. Fucking degenerates…

Desperately trying to take his mind off of it, he quickly distracted himself by pulling out his PDA and shooting a quick message to the other Ash Wolves through an encrypted channel: "Am in Haven, doing recon. Nothing to report so far except that the Bloody Moon Leader turned his booth into a whorehouse. Let me know if you need access into the city, I can find the openings in patrols."

Switching to another channel, just for safety’s sake, he’d then go on to send a message to Nova as well. "Hey, you. Finally made it in, I’m around and carrying enough for your exorbitant fees. Do you have a meeting spot in mind?"


Nothingness Nothingness 606 606
 
Bloody Moon
Ares Ornias
The Apex Predator
Haven, En route to Stadium

The annual Fighting tournament had reared its head around once more; the grand festival in which both Demon and Human were allowed to participate; an event that put brain and brawn against one another to ultimately determine who or what stood at the pinnacle of strength, position and ultimately glory. For many, this was a tournament to test ones mettle against another, to measure their position within the established hierarchy of Haven, for others this was another paycheck; an opportunity to land themselves a huge cash windfall and hopefully better their place in life with that newly attained wealth. For Ares... this was a means to an end.

Dressed in an attire that would not hinder him in battle, Ares had for the last few months been waiting impatiently for the beginning of this tournament; the demon eagerly seeking this opportunity to put the money where his mouth was; to openly prove that he was not all bark rather.. he was all bite; ready to tear asunder whomever or whatever was unfortunate enough to stand before him.

Confident in his strength, absorbed by his arrogance and engulfed in a tenacity that would put most to shame, Ares named after the god of War had begun to make his way to the battlefield.. only.. a sudden 'ding-a-ling' ringing from his mobile would cause him to falter, to stop in his tracks much to the dismay of the unfortunate demon walking behind him; their face hitting the back of the much taller Ares.


Glancing down at his phone, Ares raised a brow as he addressed the new notification; a wry smirk appearing across his face as he read the message that had just been pinged to his mobile. It wasn't anything too grand or important, but rather a simple and direct order from the head honcho himself; an order that would have been carried through regardless of whether he had been told to enter the tournament or not. Ares was always intending to enter the infamous tournament of Haven, to test his mettle against those that shared lofty aspirations of reaching greater heights as well as to punish those that would dare attempt to supercede him as the 'King of the Jungle'. What a farce this competition was, to bestow false hope upon those whose life amounted to little more than breakfast, lunch and dinner for the Apex Predator.

Alas, for Ares, this was merely a means to an end.. a trivial performance to convince the masses that he was the King. To silence the naysayers who either ignored or ridiculed his proclamations. Peasants. He already knew that it was his birth right to stand atop others, to rule from the upper echelons of what society had to offer... yet it was proving to be quite tedious when it came to getting others to realize that undeniable truth. To accept the concept that some were simply chosen to be 'better' than others. A faint, barely audible sigh had escaped him, the task of getting the others to acknowledge the truth had still proven to be quite surmountable, more so given his meagre position as a foot soldier for the Bloody Moon. A hopefully, temporary position given his lofty aspirations.

Attaining the title of the strongest in Haven was simply one of many steps that he had planned and would inevitably climb in order to reach his goal. Once he had accomplished as such... his eyes would simply move over to the next prey, the next victim that he would devour on his path to glory. In his way currently were Easton -the right hand man-, Syn Taxi the 2nd in command and Clancy... the head Honcho. Would the leader of the Bloody Moon take him seriously once he was accepted as 'The Strongest'. Would the four leaders of Haven submit to his own authority once he proved himself to be the 'one true king? Only time would tell as the heir apparent continued upon his ascent to glory.

A loud boastful laugh would escape Ares's maw as he pocketed the phone, his large frame pushing past several others whom had stopped to stare at the man laughing maniacally. Despite Clancy's affirmation that winning did not matter, Ares had other intentions and that meant losing was unacceptable.

A new fire lit within Ares, the lion would resume his march towards the battlefield. A king in heart and soul, ready to make his mark upon the inhabitants of Haven.

Mentions: Buu Buu // The Grand Fool The Grand Fool // Remembrance Remembrance
Code by Serobliss
 

Easton von Aurelio
Right-Hand of Bloody Moon​

"This great evil, where's it come from? How'd it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from? Who's killing us, robbing us of life and light. Mocking us with the sight of what we might've known? Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help grass to grow, the sun to shine?"


Easton was enveloped in these words, he felt himself overwhelmed with curiosity. His thoughts rambled with questions, yet his mind was too lacking in the knowledge to properly answer them. Unlike many of the other pleasures and emotions Easton has immersed himself in, he hadn't brought himself to understand brutality or wrath. It was easy to gather the knowledge to understand such topics, but that was only half the battle. If he did not use the knowledge practically, could he truly say he understood the emotion?

Shutting the book and trapping its wisdom between the covers, he set it carefully unto his desk. Reflecting on what he learned, Easton had much more work to do in order to assimilate into this culture. He rose from his seat and began his walk. Easton would routinely leave his study to pace about his domicile, allowing his mind to relax and take in the simple pleasures he already knew. The light that peaks through the large panes of glass; the cracks of earth rising through the ground; the lack of dust in places of activity. Each and every day, he'd repeat this ritual of walking and appreciating what was around him. In spite of how much he does it, he never finds any slight in what he sees.

Making his way up the stairs, Easton felt a familiar vibration at the outer side of his thigh. A notification on a nifty device. Although he could not admire the device itself, the innovation and progress behind it truly dazzled him. Reading what was new on the device's screen, he became puzzled.

"A… tournament? How odd."

Easton had no prior knowledge of a tournament. He knew what such a thing was but to participate, he could not say. He then realized what it meant or rather, what it meant to him. This was an opportunity to learn of the brutality of this culture; to learn what wrath and violence is. Knowing this, he checked his faculties. His body was in ample condition and if it could be better, he would make it so. At this stage in Easton's life, his only limit was the amount of pain he could endure. Changing the flesh and bending the bone is an exhaustive job, paid in nothing but pain.

Pressing his finger's against the device's screen, he sent an affirmative. Though he would have to cut his study time short, he would gain much more in exchange. Furling his outer appendages into his cloak, he strode out of his domicile to the tournament's location. Given the distance between the two, he'd arrive shortly before it starts. He could make it there with ease if he were to shape his body to an optimal running standard, but given the terrain and environment, he would surely crush not only others but be crushed by the many automobiles present.

With stride, he pressed onwards in what could only be described by him as a learning experience. Easton neither needed to win nor lose, only observe and learn.

Mentions: Buu Buu | | Phayne Phayne | | The Grand Fool The Grand Fool

 
Copy-of-Above-the-Sea-2.png
Ragna Belphedora
「BLACK ROSE SPECIAL FORCES」
Haven. A city built as a sanctuary for demonkind to escape the harsh reality of war based on differences and stereotypes. A metropolis to good and evil demons alike where freedom was not just a shy promise, but a guarantee. An interurban center where the cruelty of life still existed, but hope and opportunities shined brighter, like the moonlight through an alleyway. And within this capital, inside the faction and protection of the Black Rose, lived a woman so murderous, so cold-blooded, and so barbarous that she could be defeated by only one thing: a hangover.

Bright streams of gold crept through the half open window of her condo - the morning sun crying out at the demoness to finally awaken from her coma-like slumber. Ragna let out a soft groan as she pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, trying to feel if she had a fever because of how dizzy she felt. Her head was pounding harder than the speakers at a dance concert, and her muscles felt so weak and fatigued that she could hardly pull herself out of bed.

"Why.. did I do that." She moaned, heaving her torso up from her mattress to sit up. Immediately, a pitiful whimper escaped from her lips as the sudden motion pierced a jolt through her skull.

It was then she remembered the night before. Well, pieces of it at least. She had gone to her favorite bar - one of the local pubs - as she did most nights. It was a smaller and cozier location where she felt more comfortable drinking at than those rampant clubs that her city offered. Best of all, the place had a bartender who was handsome enough to entice her to drink, and kind enough to listen to her complain. He had her sing like a canary about all her problems - a nice way to vent out her frustrations, in her opinion.

"Heh.. Oh yeah. That's right." Ragna chuckled to herself, recalling her interaction with the man. "This is karma for swooning over good-looking people, but what's new." With legs as heavy as lead and a brain as foggy as a marsh, Ragna sluggishly pulled herself to her bathroom sink where she ran the water as chilly as it could go. The feeling of the shivering-cold water against her face was both a reward and a punishment - for it was as refreshing as it was painful.

"I think.. I'm forgetting something." She mumbled to herself, trying to recollect why she had to get up in the first place. Something was in the back of her mind telling her today was an important event - but she just couldn't remember what. The questionably alive woman then got herself ready to go out - adorning her usual yet over-the-top outfit with the jewelry that made her jingle like a parade, putting on her subtle but bold makeup in hopes to hide her dying expression, and finally, hoisting her weapons that she boldly chose to show off so that people knew she meant business. And by business, it just meant that she enjoyed making people nervous.

Walking into the streets of the city may have actually been the worst choice Ragna made throughout her whole ordeal. The roads were filled with enough people to look like a tsunami tide rolling by everytime the intersection lights signalled for pedestrians to walk. The loud noises and the beeping of vehicles clouded the air with enough reverberation to make Ragna's head feel like it was splitting open. And then the sun. Oh, the sun. Its rays felt like beams attacking her eyes as a punishment for having fun - the lasers causing her to use her gloved hands as temporary shields.

"No more whiskey for me, in fact." She cried to herself, soon removing her hands from her vision as she was beginning to adjust to the brightness. It was then she noticed that everyone looked excited and eager. Not the typical, 'Oh it's the weekend' delight, but more like something huge was happening today. Was it a baseball game? The curiosity was starting to get to her as she continued to walk around the busy streets aimlessly. Eventually, she stumbled upon a random television shop where the window displayed multiple monitors airing the exact event she couldn't recall: The Annual Fighting Tournament.

"Oh, fuck." She whispered to herself. It was then she realized she was indeed, screwed. Most members of the major sectors participated in the tournament to represent their clan - and Ragna was no different. Every year she entered in the big event, and every year she did it with a hangover. Was this a sign for her to stop signing up? The anxious demoness chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to think of what to do as she really didn't want to participate in her condition. Would taking a thousand painkillers help her overcome the agony she was in? No, it'd probably just destroy her liver. Would drinking gallons of water help flush her system? Maybe, but apparently water intoxication was a thing.

I.. screw it. Ragna thought to herself as she accepted her premature defeat in the competition - it happened almost every year anyway. The thought of Avaddon's disappointment in her made her shudder, but what other choice did she have? I'll just say I did my best.. I'm doing my best, right? Ragna continued having a conversation in her head - making her wonder at one point if all of the alcohol from the night before had even worn off.

❖❖❖

After what felt like a century of walking, Ragna eventually made it to the tournament stadium - a sizeable facility built to specifically hold events like this. The walls were as tall as most buildings in the city, and the seats, though empty now, were going to be filled to the brink with citizens excited to see contestants beat the living hell out of each other. Ragna continued her journey of aimlessly walking about the vicinity as she had just realized that she arrived much earlier than she had to. While she was upset that this meant she could've gotten a little more sleep, she tried to see the better of the situation and decided maybe the woman whose blood was half alcohol should probably drink water. She dragged her feet towards the contestant's waiting room, her eyes in search of a cup for water when she suddenly heard a booming, familiar voice echoing throughout the grounds. It was, of course, the loudest person she knew - Roderick Halcyon.

Giving up on the glass of water she'll never find, she marched her way over in the direction of her fellow clan member. From about half across the stadium, she yelled at him: "Roderick! It's too early to say that! No one's even really here!" But still, she laughed. It was very much like him to be as excited as he was. As she started to make her way towards him, she then noticed his outfit - or lack thereof? Well, it wasn't like she was complaining. Once she made it by him, she leaned over the ledge in front of her to rest comfortably for a bit.

"Are you participating this year?" Ragna asked, praying that he wouldn't yell in her ears - though with how pumped he was, she wasn't exactly betting against it. Her eyes wandering the stadium, noticing the lack of contestants who have arrived.

"A bit of an empty show for now, I think." She told him with a short chuckle. "I'm going to grab a coffee before we start. You're welcome to join. Otherwise I'll see you around later, handsome." With a sly smile and a wink, Ragna made off towards the nearest shop to get her much needed caffeine.

Mentions: Servant Servant Nothingness Nothingness
coded by yukitera & khocolatte
 
Ash Wolf
Idris Ignatius
The Holy Flame
Haven, En route to Stadium

Wandering down the street, Idris clad in his usual attire had continued to endure his stay within Haven, the red haired Wolf going on what could only amount to being a 'patrol'. Sorta. It wasn't so much that Idris fancied walking around the cesspool of Haven, rather it was far better than merely being cooped up at HQ. At least this way, he could maybe find an excuse to cleanse Haven of its demon problem; it wouldn't be too surprising if some rogue demon decided to lay their nefarious hands upon the humans unfortunate enough to live here.

A growing commotion would cause Idris to stop in his tracks ; crimson eyes turning to face the gathering crowd of onlookers that encircled two particular individuals that had begun to square off with one another. It didn't take a professional eye to discern that both of them were of the demon ilk; their distinct markings giving them away as being descendants of that accursed race. How vile. Their barbaric almost animalistic act of getting into a fight was just more proof of their subhuman intellect; their bestial brutality unbecoming of the elegance bestowed upon humanity. Alas, it wasn't the fact that there were two demonfolk fighting that seemed to bother the somewhat stone faced Idris, rather it was the fact that something incomprehensible was occurring before his very eyes; a sight that tickled at a hidden unease deep within the tainted warrior that was Idris. Before he very eyes, both the humans and demons whom had been torn away from their activities to watch the unsanctioned fight seemed to be more excited than concerned; their eyes filled with fiery excitement as they spurned the two combatants to continue their bout; to continue their barbarism.

"What's the meaning of this?" inquired Idris, flexing the fingers on his hand as he reigned in the urge to just incinerate them all.

"Its the annual battle tournament!.. Its got them all riled up!" replied a voice next to Idris, the red haired wolf turning to face the source; a large burly man with a purple haired child who sat atop the shoulders of her father. As far as Idris could tell, they were both human... in appearance... and they were both enjoying the fight going on infront of them. "Battle tournament..?" replied Idris taking note of the cheers emanating around him as the fight begun to reach its climax.

"Its the annual tournament of Haven.. haven't you heard of it?" replied the man, reaching into his pocket for a piece of parchment that had been roughly shoved inside. "Two tournaments, one for the demons and one for us to participate in, with the winner of each tournament earning the title of 'the strongest'.." the man paused, smiling as wide as he could before affording a cheeky wink "..as well as getting a large pot of gold" he added, before laughing heartedly. "I bet'cha those two over there couldn't wait any longer and decided to give all of us ere a pre-show before the tournament starts. Perhaps let off a bit of pent up energy, ya'know what I mean?" he turned to face Idris, readjusting his daughters position above his shoulders so as to maintain a grip safe enough that she wasn't at risk of falling over. "I myself reached the quarter finals last year... but rest assured I ain't the same as I was back then, hahaha I totally plan on winning it this year... ain't that right Sally?" he asked rhetorically as he glanced up at his beaming daughter. "Yes papa!" she chimed giggling as she pulled at his hair; the sweet innocent -yet delusional- youthfulness radiated off her.

Glancing down towards the crumpled flyer, the emotionless face of Idris could only stare blankly at the parchment he had been handed; his mind struggling to comprehend what exactly it was that he was reading. It simply didn't make sense to him; the caricature illustrations of both human and demon kind enjoying the allure of the battle tournament. How was it possible that humans could coexist with these demon scourge, to live side by side with these denizens of darkness.

Scrunching the flyer, a faint trail of smoke would begin to meander skyward from his now enclosed fist; his flames of purification getting to work as the blasphemous parchment was turned to little more than ash. "Disgusting" he muttered under his breath, crimson eyes now looking towards the direction of the Neutral zone, the centre of Haven and the location in which this eyesore of a tournament would take place. Sighing, the thought of having to enter deeper into this cesspool of a city was not one that he fancied, especially since he had yet to receive any orders in regards to eradicating the pest that plagued the land. Had it not been for the human presence in Haven, Idris may have taken it upon himself to act; citing the idea that he was simply enacting rightful justice upon the demons who threatened humanity. That being said, he was -for now- only here to observe the demons until orders from the top brass were given.

If nothing else, the fights among the demons would prove to be valuable information; the gauging of strengths and abilities on show for all to see.. and if lady luck shone upon them, then perhaps one or two of them would simply kill each other off. Not even a smile appeared upon his face at that thought, his expression remaining as neutral as it had done for the majority of the day thus far.

Opening his enclosed palm, the remnants of the disintegrated parchment would begin to float to the floor, a coating of black ash barely distinguishable upon his black gloves; nevertheless he would raise his free hand to meet his open palm; brushing them against one another to rid himself of the ash stains so as to rid himself of any tainted marks. Returning his attention to the street brawl, it seemed the victor had been decided as the crowd began to cheer; their excitement for the upcoming tournament clear for Idris to see as several of them begun to discuss their favourites to win.

"Animals... the lot of them..." muttered Idris, pushing his way past several bystanders and making his way towards the neutral zone. He'd at least observe some of the beasts on show before the time for the hunt arose.. or when he received further others from the rest of the pack.

Mentions: Kinda Ash Wolves in General.
Code by Serobliss
 
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The Boss
Clancy
location
The Stadium
tags
Servant Servant Dicentra Dicentra
An intimate situation in a public area was bound for interruption. Though, he didn't expect said interruption to be that loud. The scantily dressed women clamored for the fabrics thrown across the floor; instinctively using them to hide what shouldn't be seen. Their eyes, now surrounded by ruined mascara, darted across the dark room. If it weren't for the faint morning sunlight spilling through the large window, they would've never been able to spot the man they'd been spending their time with. "Hey, Clancy, why is the tournament starting so early this year?" Judging from the faint wavering in her voice, it seemed like she was nervous for some reason.

The tell-tale sound of a flint wheel and a weak flicker made the two girls focus on the demon's face. He was calm. More accurately, he was completely devoid of any real emotion. They'd noticed that even during the act, he didn't so much as move a brow nor blink an eye. He'd simply kept his gaze locked on what was beyond the window. Only now did he divert his attention away, loosely focused on a freshly lit cigarette. He limply held it between his index and middle finger, softly closed his eyes, and eased himself into a slow drag.

After he slipped most of his clothes on, Clancy finalized his outfit by wrapping his tie around his neck and folding it into a sloppy knot. The sound of his sluggish footsteps ended at the door, and just before he left, his darkened silhouette stopped. The cigarette in his mouth lightened his facial area just enough to see his expression. He had a faint smile across his lips, but his eyes were just as devoid as before. "It's not." Those two words were the only thing he'd leave behind. He didn't really care about those two girls anymore. They were free to do whatever they pleased, just like him.

The women were left to their thoughts. Why did that douchebag just leave them there? Was that loud voice really more interesting than them? Kind of. You see, Bloody Moon was a clan that prided themselves on the information they hoard. Under Clancy's rule, he made sure he obtained as much information about the other clans as possible. Especially when it came to their leadership. It wasn't hard to learn about Roderick, given his complete lack of subtlety and potent presence within his community. That's why Clancy was certain that - out of everyone in Haven - he was the one responsible for the announcement.

He walked with his hands tucked in his pockets while he looked around the stadium. More people were starting to fill the stands, and among them were several members of his clan. They weren't dressed in any particular way and didn't draw any attention to themselves. Make no mistake though, they were diligently watching over Clancy and every other demon within the area. He'd ordered them to do so because he understood that fans weren't the only people interested in the event. It didn't take a genius to realize that such a large concentration of demons would be targeted. Especially if the leaders of said demons were present. But who was Clancy specifically keeping an eye out for? Well, that's easy. Those disgusting group of creatures that called themselves, "Ash Wolves".

Fortunately (or unfortunately if you had the same mindset as Clancy) his soldiers didn't find anything unusual just yet. So, he proceeded to keep a look out for what originally drew him out of his booth in the first place: Roderick. In the distance, he saw a man with a very unique attire talking to.. hold on now. A solid ten? Man. It's too bad she was walking away. A part of Clancy wanted to introduce himself. Then again, maybe he'd get another chance some other time. Or maybe she'd stick around if she happened to know who he was. Oh well. Back to business.

Before the man-child had the chance to decide if he wanted to go with her, Clancy strolled up with a palm in the air. "What's up, man? Aren't you Roderick? The second in command for Black Rose?" Clancy's voice was pretty friendly, plus he had a charming smile to match. Though, the vibe he gave off was a little eerie to say the least. Regardless, he couldn't help but look Roderick up and down; really examining what exactly he chose to wear up close. Clancy already knew that this guy was an oddball, but he expected him to have enough sense to dress more appropriately. A brief exhale through his nose signaled his amusement, but a monotoned strand of words immediately contradicted it. "I heard you all the way from inside my booth. I'm guessing you're pretty excited for the tournament, huh?" The demon had seen more than he wanted to, so his gaze shifted up to Roderick's eyes. Or rather, his shades. He'd extend his hand to offer a brief shake, still maintaining his smile.

code by @Nano
 
Sofia's Frustration
Interacting with: JJae JJae (Airen and Zirke) The Grand Fool The Grand Fool (Lang)​

Sofia stepped to the side with her right foot, using it as a pivot as she brought up her right hand to catch the incoming strike. Michael’s arm came down hard as he swung the blunt training blade wildly, but it was easy enough for the shadow demoness to grab his wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. Without hesitation, Sofia stepped across her body and pulled his arm across her shoulder, using his momentum and her strength to flip him over and throw him hard onto the ground. Her left hand came up, holding a blade of her own, and softly planted the tip of the sword on the demon’s neck. “I yield!” Sofia’s training partner managed to squeal out, to which Sofia responded by pulling him up and tossing her sword to one of the low-ranking students there.

Her long, black hair was pulled up into a ponytail that hung well past her shoulders and swayed back and forth as she moved across the room to grab a towel. “I’m sorry if I went a little too hard on you, are you alright, Mike?” Sofia’s sparring partner gave her a thumbs up and waved her apology away. “I’m good, Arch, I prefer high-impact training.” All she could muster in response was a half-hearted smile and a nod, as she turned to grab her duffel bag with her phone and equipment inside of it. Her hands gripped the edge of her black sports bra and shorts to adjust them slightly on her way to the locker room. As Sofia walked through the bright hallway, her shadow writhed and swirled around wildly in response to the frustration she felt. In reality, Sofia hadn’t planned on training, but the fact that she would not be allowed to participate in the tournament because of her station made her angry, which was probably why poor Mike got the worst from her.

She set down her duffel bag in front of her locker and pulled out her phone to check for any important messages. Once the device unlocked upon recognizing her face, her chat with Zirke immediately popped up. The contact card at the top read Zirke : ) and a new message flashed at the bottom. Hey. Coming back today, don't tell my sis. Is she pissed a lot? A grin flashed across Sofia’s face despite her frustration. It had been a couple of days since she’d last seen her favorite troublemaker, and she was starting to miss him and his antics. She particularly missed him while watching Fortunate Romance with Airen. Various images flashed across her mind as the demoness attempted to figure out what Zirke could have been up to, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts.

Ever since their night of passion, it appeared that the red-headed demon had something of a permanent place in her mind. Even though they never spoke about it after it happened, Sofia sometimes found herself thinking back to that night with feelings she would never admit. As she thought of how to respond, some of those thoughts surfaced again, causing her cheeks to flush slightly. The shadow demoness quickly caught herself and shook her head, burying those thoughts in the deepest parts of her mind. She then brought her fingers to the phone’s screen to respond as the shadows around her swayed calmly and with slight excitement.

The usual. Hurry up or Sis will be the last person you’ll have to worry about.

Despite her threatening message, Sofia couldn’t stop grinning while typing it. She rolled her eyes and threw her phone back into the duffel bag before removing her sportswear and stepping into the shower. It wasn’t until some minutes later that Sofia stepped out of the shower wrapped up in towels. She walked back over to her locker and opened it, finding a clean outfit for her to wear to the tournament. It consisted of a black crop top and a black leather skirt that clung to her frame comfortably just above the knees. As Sofia got dressed, she heard a familiar ping coming from her phone. Both Zirke and Airen had been assigned special tones for when they called or messaged Sofia so she could instantly know who was contacting her. With a smile on her face, Sofia zipped up her skirt and reached for her phone to read Airen’s message. @Soffie:3 Need your emotional support ASAP. Clara is gonna gnaw my ear off with her bickering! The shadow demoness removed the towel from her hair and conjured up two shadows to blow dry it quickly while her hands were occupied responding.

On my way, Sis! Got tied up doing some training, but I’m all done <3

After Sofia hit send, she got to work combing her hair while her shadows diligently blow-dried it. Luckily, four hands were much faster than two and it wasn’t long until her jet-black hair hung over her shoulders, wavy and mostly dry. She looked in the mirror and snapped a quick picture to send to the group chat with Zirke and Airen before grabbing her things and stuffing them in her locker, keeping only her phone and kyoketsu-shoge on her. With that, Sofia darted out and made her way to the Serpent’s Kiss main headquarters, where her and Airen’s office was located, as well as the meeting rooms.

As she approached the headquarters entrance, she was encountered by a pair of guards who stood firmer and immediately bowed their heads at her. “Welcome, Miss Archer.” Sofia gave them a quick nod and pushed past the doors, wanting to get to Airen as quickly as possible. Whatever was happening had to be somewhat important for it to take priority over the tournament, where Airen and Sofia most certainly had to be present. Even if it wasn’t, her dearest friend had called for her and she made a promise to always be there, no matter what. It didn’t take long for Sofia to sense Airen's presence through the shadows around her, and, like a homing missile, she marched her way down the hall toward the emergency meeting room. Without knocking, Sofia pushed open the door to find Airen, Lang, and many others sitting somewhat anxiously.

“Apologies for the delay, I was preparing for the big day.” Sofia walked up beside Airen and gently nudged her arm and smiled at her before turning to the rest. “So, what did I miss?”
 
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CODE BY SEROBLISS
Zirke O'Bechtel
SERPENT'S KISS

Interaction: message to RoninN7 RoninN7​

"I need your papers, boy," the officer said gruffly. Turned out that the car earlier had been a police officer's. Turned out they did not like being fooled and having the middle finger raised against them.
Zirke O'Bechtel ran his hands around his jacket. But deep inside his mind he knew he left his liscence at home. And by the look of the male's narrowing eyes, he knew too. This fucking idiot. Why did he had to honk at him? This was entirely his fault not Zirke's.

"So," he started, finally placing his hands back on the machine. He could make a run for it. This bitch and his small car wouldn't even dream of catching up to him. They coulf fucking eat his dirt and die from it. Yet again, Airen would have his throat if that happened. Not as much as she was already planning on murdering him for missing Fortune Romance, but slightly in the same way.

"Driving illegal," the cop shook his head like a disbelieving father. His poor poor kids. He looked down on him. From his nose downward. As if he had the upper hand. Hah, sure.
He grabbed his notebook and a black pencil. The book of death was already opened as Zirke chimed in, "Zirke O'Bechtel. You may talk to my sister. I bet she will be delighted to send you the copies of my papers."
The pen stopped.

Actually, the entire cop did.

A grin spread on Zirke's lips. Yeah, no one wanted to argue with his twin. She'd rip him to shreds. What? For a red light you stopped my brother? Are you insane? I want you to pay for the waste of time, officer. Probably something like that. He'd almost had sympathie for the male. Almost.

"M… Mister O'Bechtel!" He bowed instantly. The pencil dropped to the ground. Fleeing fingers skipped over the concrete, missing the slim object several times. "I deeply apologize! If I knew it was her~"

"Her brother?" Zirke gave the male a firm pat on his shoulder. "We all make mistakes, you see. I hope you can forgive my little action back there." He learned it from Airen and Sof. This well-spoken sentence structure, to see and push the right buttons with them. So many demons had been too simple to mess with. He couldn't outdo his twin, though.

"I- Yes! Yes sure, it was my mistake, Sir! Please, there is no need to involve Miss Bechtel," He said a tone too loud. The cop scrambled back into his car. Instead of following his route, he turned the shit right around. Would Sof be proud he pulled this off? Zirke lead a whole gang, yes. He dealed with drugs, kept the mafia's influence low and protected his sister's reign underground. But was it enough for the shadow demoness? Back then, their hottest night together, he had nothing to give her. Perhaps that was why he never approached her that way ever again. Gods, why did he had to be so fucking stupid?

Sof talked to Airen about relationship stuff, barely to him. His sister would stick her nose into his business once he asks what her Second-In-Command does in her love life. He didn't need to know. At least, that was what he told himself every single day.

As if he summoned the devil, his phone vibrated. Another message from Airen? He dragged the phone out of his pockets and skinned his glove off his fingers with a swift usage of his mouth. Like a dog holding a stick he held the leatherly thing. The message popping up made him forget about it, too.

The usual. Hurry up or Sis will be the last person you’ll have to worry about.​
Two things he avoided at all cost:
  1. Airen's wrath
  2. Sofia's wrath
Okay maybe three… the two of them being mad at him wasn't he thing he'd loved either. A hand ran through his fiery red hair, the spitting imagine of the Serpent's Kiss' leader's. Sometimes them alone helped people reconize Zirke for who he was. Her twin, her brother. Not Zirke O'Bechtel or Skoll. Those damned people. Without her, they would never care about him. Fucking bullshit.

His anger extinguished when a second message flew right in. The group chat. And all he saw was the picture. It took all of the space on his screen and he needed it bigger. On a TV, a huge one. Maybe portrayed on multiple ones. Or as a painting?

He knew he was in danger when he saw the top and skirt and her freshly showered self. Sof loved to train and fight. Zirke had the suspection that she trained today due to her being unable to participate in the tournament. He'd sell his soul to be her sparring partner and be flung to the ground by her.

For a long minute he stared at the picture. Years ago his hands tailored around that very exact waist and- "No!" He shoutet, burrying his face in his hands. Sofia Archer should not have such an impact on him. Passengers on the sidewalk gave him weired out looks. He almost choked them for it. Not for humbling him but for his reaction to an ex-bed-partner and that fucking image.

"Oh my fuck!" He yelled right after. She was going to the tournament like that? In his inner eye played the reports and the fan edits already about that damned outfit. It'd haunt him for days that outfit! No, no. Zirke did not care. Zero percent. They were friends, end of story. Yet he could not stop his fingers from slipping on the 'saving' button, which required two taps to be exact. How clumsy his fingers were, a shame.

The sirenical demon released a long groan, falling on the back of his bike to look at the sky. He'd should have taken her to stargaze with him. Why did he had to make it so awkward after their night? How did it even come to it?

They had been partying. The usual drill on a third month's Friday. His favorite bar playing her favorite music. One thing simply led to another and he could never kiss another female besides her. Not even look at one with the same phantom of warmth in his heart. And he gradually messed up. Now with Airen and Sof being closest of friends, he did not want to cause a commotion. His sister would throttle him, drag him back from the underworld and struggle him again.

Zirke gazed at the chat again and switched to the private window with the shadow demoness.

Looking good! Make sure Airen wears a jacket… and long pants. Maybe mess her hair. I don't want to see her being approached by some fucker. :3

He did not. Whatever happened 700 years ago, it drowned his twin's last hopes and lights. Zirke guessed what happened without the details though. She never told him, he never pryed. But no male or female would ever get close to her again without his approval. Unfortunatly, Airen had an excessive way of clothing. She looked gorgeous and that was the problem.

He added to the message: I bet you will be surprised to see me! Get ready haha

Sofia knew him and he wanted to remind her he was still his old chaotic self. But the surprise was his speciality. The two would never guess what he had planned out!

The motor of his machine howled in response. Zirke didn't look into the busy traffic as he sped up. He dodged a few cars, bikers and others, cut in lines and sneaked through the vehicles. Until the stadium appeared before him. His sister would so break his neck but she'd laugh about it tomorrow.

But oh well, he had already applied to be one of the fighters.
 














  • .scroll












    Living On
    — [Clover] by O3RO








    mood
    Relaxed


    outfit
    Ref.


    interactions
    N/A


    mentions
    N/A











    Avaddon De' Angulis


    ― "To be the best, you must be able to handle the worst."




    After several minutes of serving drinks to the few customers that had taken a seat around the counter, Axel had once more returned to cleaning one empty glass after another with one hand holding a rag while the other cupped the empty glass. His own crimson hues focusing once more upon the television screens as the sight of citizens lined up to enter the stadium one after another. A half smile crept across his lips as he took notice of the joyful expression on everyone's faces as they were interviewed one after another by news reporters and the panning of the cameras amongst the crowds. Everything seemed to had been going as smoothly as it should've, and yet still something felt off, like a dark creeping sensation was running through his mind that he couldn't seem to shake off. Eventually, Axel stowed away the glass that he had been cleaning before giving a wave over towards one of his coworkers that had been serving the tables on the opposite side of the bar. The wave of his hand was a clear indication that he was going to leave for either the day or at least a good while before coming back and that they needed to call for their backup bartender.

    Knowing that his job was covered, Axel proceeded to head through the backdoor of the bar which had lead him into an alleyway, making sure to carry out a long rectangular suitcase that he had resting next to the exit door prior to stepping out. Once exiting, the male loosened the tie around his neck as the device hidden underneath the tie gave off a low humming beep before the face of the male who was once known as Axel began to fizzle away like that of a television that did not have signal to cable before finally revealing a familiar face, that of the leader of the Black Rose clan; Avaddon De' Angulis. Running his gloved fingers of his free hand through his snowy white hair, with every inch of his fingers that so much as touched a strand of his hair, the once white hair slowly began to turn into a pitch-black color as well as its length increasing till his hair's length had now rested upon his shoulders.

    Exhaling a low sigh, Avaddon tilted his head from one side to the next just to relax and crack the joints in his neck before rolling his shoulders to do the very same. "By the Princes, if the bar is full of drunkards already...I cannot imagine what it's going to be like later on this evening." With a low hushed whisper to himself, he began to make his way down the alley to eventually find his way to the sidewalk. During his walk however, Avaddon was soon halted by the familiar metallic-like scent in the air and along his tastebuds. 'Blood..?' Something was off, why was there a scent of blood in the air and why in the midst of daylight. Making a slight detour, the male quickly followed the scent through the alley only to end up coming across a murder scene. With widened eyes, Avaddon rushed over towards the side of the two corpses of Ravinca clan police officers. Their heads had been crushed, their bodies still completely intact, just by examining the surroundings, it did not appear as though there was much of a struggle either. Sure, there were criminals and gangs that roamed the streets of Haven and no doubt there were some who had a dislike for authorities, but the men and women in uniform were not so easily to be taken down by gang members without putting up at least a decent fight. No, a professional did this.

    Placing a hand over the top of the two corpses of the deceased individuals, Avaddon eventually closed his eyes as he steadied his breathing. "May you find peace in the eternal flame." With a silent prayer, in an instant the surrounding temperature around him began to rapidly rise till steam began to eventually form upon the corpses and soon enough, their bodies were lit aflame. Fire engulfed their bodies as Avaddon returned the temperature back to its original state while the corpses were allowed to burn away along with their gear. By the time the bodies had turned into ash, Avaddon retrieved a small circular disk from his pocket before inputting a few specific number combinations onto it and tossing it onto the floor. In an instant, the disk whirled and came to life as it rose up into the air by only a few feet, a low humming sound rang through the device before a male figure dressed in all black while wearing a hood had appeared as a blue-ish hologram. "Zero. Get in contact with operatives. Double security around the tower and around the stadium. Keep a close eye on absolutely everyone that comes and goes from the stadium tonight, again...as usual, stay out of sight."

    With a single nod, the hooded individual with nod without so much as a word. In an instant, the communication was cut between the two individuals. Zero had been the head of Black Rose's Special Forces division, although he was a human and did not speak much, he proved himself more than capable as to why he was able to reach to the position he had. The channel Avaddon had ever spoken to his head of Special Forces was always designed to be on a private channel that was monitored by Arcana, just to avoid any prying eyes or ears upon Avaddon's conversation. Discussions with his head of the division was even meant to be kept away from his fellow leaders and second-in-commands.
    With the security at least set and ready, the only thing he could do at this point was just to see how the night played out, without much to go on, it wasn't like Avaddon could call for an investigation. Whoever had committed the murder hadn't left footprints, let alone any sign of where they went. Something was wrong, and he knew it for a fact this time. "I've got a bad feeling about this..." Whispering under his breath, he immediately headed for the exit of the alley only to turn his head towards the stadium that was slightly off in the distance. For centuries, each and every year, the tournament had gone on without incident, sure, there were the occasional problem here and there with people having health issues in the stands or someone taking a fight too personal, but never had anything stopped the event from happening in the end. Was this year going to be different?

    With yet another sigh escaping from his lips, Avaddon headed directly towards the stadium while passively examining civilians that passed by him, giving warm smiles and nods to those who had greeted him while walking passed. Everyone appeared so happy just as they did every year, children ran along the streets since during the event the streets near the stadium were closed off to avoid traffic, families gathered either at the stadium for early seating or had been eating at local cafes and restaurants outside due to multiple specials going on. From time to time, some of the street vendors even offered free food to Avaddon as he passed by as a friendly gesture, rather than accept any of it however, he would only raise a hand with a concerned smile while shaking his head, trying to come up with reasonings such as he was late to the stadium or anything along those lines to avoid accepting the pleasantries.






    coded by xayah.ღ

 


  • CODE BY SEROBLISS
    Syn Taxi
    Bloody Moon Second-in-command


    "FUCKING HELL!"

    A large crash sounded through the building.

    "WHAT DOES THAT PIECE OF SHIT LEADER THINK HE IS? HE WANTS ME TO WALTZ INTO THE ARENA, BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SOME DEMONS, AND THEN COME INTO THE BOOTH ACTING LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?"

    A young secretary peeked into the room, and here eyes widened at the sight she saw. The three hundred synthetic wooden desk was thrown across the room, it's drawers fallen out, papers scattered across the floor, and the second-in-command of the Bloody Moon looking like he was about to explode.

    "Sir... are you ok?" she asked timidly.

    The demon looked up at her (yes looked up, for he was only 4'9) and blinked. The rage slowly melted from his face as he took deep breaths.

    "Yes, I am fine," he said with a weak smile. "Just some surprising news."

    The secretary nodded and closed the door before letting out the breath she didn't realize she was holding in. Everyone in the headquarters knew to fear the second-in-command, Syn Taxi when he went into a rage.

    He looked outside before shaking his head. He picked up the table and put it back in the correct spot before heading out of the door. He noticed that several demons were already lined up ready to clean up his office. Shaking his head he left the headquarters and headed towards his residence. Walking in, he headed right for the attic. Putting his hand on the right corner of a full-body mirror (while on tippy toes) a door opened up. Walking in, he smiled slightly. He looked around as memories streamed through his mind. Walking straight for the table in the middle he ran his hand over the sheath of his katana, Spiritus Draconis. He quickly buckled the sheath onto his sword belt before picking up his wakizashi, Anima Draconis. He pulled it out and rubbed his thumb on the spine of the blade. He quickly added it to his sword belt. Then taking his shirt dress shirt off, he grabbed his padded studded leather chest and shoulder armor and put it on. Kicking off his shoes and pants, he pulled on his under armor padding before putting on thicker cloth leggings and then attached the metal and leather leg grieves. Then he grabbed his forearm grieves and his spiked sharkskin leather gloves. Putting on his sword belt, he rolled his shoulders, then grabbed his dragon skull mask. Looking into the mirror, he thought he made quite a dashing figure (even though he was so short).



 

  • C H A R A C T E R S
    • Silvester Pierce | Ash Wolf
      • Interacting with: Alarick
      • Mentions: Anastasia
    • Melania Chrona | Ash Wolf Supplier & Black Rose Agent
      • Interacting with: Alarick, Leo
      • Mentions: Anastasia, Avaddon, Zero, Roderick
 
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yuhwa aeng



ravinca leader.














alias

hananoami






nicknames

pretty boy, pinkie, cherry, yunnie






title

pink spider lily, huli jing






species

demon ( nine-tailed fox )






pronouns

he / him






age

" twenty-five "






abilities

shapeshifting, shield construction, would | pain transfer.






clan ability

falling yin















i don't wanna die or fade away i just wanna be someone i just wanna be someone dive and disappear without a trace i just wanna be someone well, doesn't everyone? and if you feel the great dividing i wanna be the one you're guiding 'cause i believe that you could lead the way i just wanna be somebody to someone, oh i wanna be somebody to someone, oh i never had nobody and no road home i wanna be somebody to someone







i've lost myself long ago


THE PINKETTE LAID, CURLED UP BENEATH a pile of scented blankets, weighing comfortably around his compact frame. The nine-tailed fox burrows deeper into its delicious warmth with a croon, while the pads of his fingers rubbed against the soft fabric absently. His gaze narrowed, letting out a quiet puff of air at his moment of weakness not long ago. His stomach churned at the proximity of his ex. The thought alone triggered the male into a frenzy as shivers danced along his clothed frame. An inaudible whimper escaped past his bruised lips, ignoring the tang of copper as he continued to worry the sensitive flesh.

The male had cocooned himself the second he’d gotten home from headquarters. Yuhwa waved off everyone as he stumbled to his apartment, mind far too gone to realize until he rammed his forehead against the fake wood. His nose scrunched up at the memory, shaking his head with a puff of air. Idiot. How could he wander the streets knowing Sebastian was close by? His lips parted, letting soft chuckles escape. He sure was asking to get kidnapped, wasn’t he? The thought alone brought another set of shivers, deciding to hike up the mound of blankets, burrowing his nose into the soft fabric with a choked sigh. Driftwood entered his nose, calming the fox until he sagged into the blanket’s heat, his light blue hues void of emotion, nothing more than blank states.

After all, Yuhwa had no intentions of feeling. He certainly didn’t want to deal with the onslaught of memories that bubbled up to the surface, threatening to spill and destroy the delicate balance he had created some years ago. He had no intentions of welcoming the unwanted memories after his scuffle with Sebastian. His throat twinged in pain at the notion. His lips puckered in annoyance, allowing his fingers to grace the sensitive flesh of his neck that blossomed with ugly colors, showcasing the obvious handprint that had been wrapped snuggly around his throat, cutting off his air supply as he lay there, accepting his face with fearful hues.

Yuhwa had thought he was doing better, but it seemed everything he’d done to shove those memories to the back to collect cobwebs was damn well useless. He let out a whimper, turning into a broken keen. Damnit! He had been doing better. He had been happy, or as happy as the leader could be.

The fox curled into himself further, hands itching to do something, anything to get his mind off of everything, but did he want to leave his nest? The male frowned, worrying his bottom lip in absent thought. His light blue hues narrowed at the mess of wires and scraps of metal tossed on his desk, several stacks of files laid haphazardly. I could start a few—His mind supplied. It was an easy distraction. One he took graciously as he wiggled out of his cocoon, ignoring the keen that slipped out.

His body ached with each stumble, reminding him of how frail his body had gotten over the years. He sighed, reaching to rub at heavy eyelids. The heavy reminder that he hadn’t slept in days, save for the few minute power naps he’d sneak in before moving on to the next project.

The male was quick to slump into the plush chair he put together with some help from Mason. Having made quirk work despite the laughter and roughhousing the two managed to get into while Aoi sighed, watching the two with dead ocean hues.

Yuhwa shook his head, hands fiddling with the mesh of wires with little protection against the delicate flesh of his palms. His mind eased into a practiced serenity, allowing the occasional spark and grind of metal to soothe his aches. The familiar notion allowed him moments of peace that he soaked up like a sponge.

The pinkette wasn’t sure how long time had passed, far too deep into his creations and scanning the many files, occasionally scribbling his name down or double checking all was in order. He was the leader, after all. Of course, Yuhwa still felt unworthy of such a grand title, no matter how hard the male tried. Nothing ever seemed to be enough. Could he be as grand as his Master had once been? Certainly, not.

He scowled, fingers knee-deep in his work, uncaring of the blood that trickled down his nose, pooling around his chin to dribble on the desk, splattering with a quiet splat. His light blue hues lacked their usual luster, instead, far too dull for anyone’s liking.

It seemed he had been too focused on his work to realize the door opening, flooding the apartment with familiar, comforting scents. His head bowed low to stare into the depths of the weapon he’d been working on for some time. The male arm-deep within the machine until the door swung open, startling the fox with a squawk. The notion sent his forearm plunging into a mess of wires that had yet to be fixed into their proper place, burning the sensitive flesh.

The familiar stench of burnt flesh wafted through the room, drowning out the various smells of his potted plants that hung everywhere. Despite the situation, it truly was an amazing sight to behold. The room appears jungle-like despite the furniture, giving the fox the perfect habitat to nest and work.

“Shit! Yuhwa!” Mason’s voice boomed, rushing over to cradle his blackened arm while the pinkette withered, canines sinking into the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip to stiffen the cries that bubbled, threatening to spill past cracked lips. Who? Yuhwa’s mind wandered, muscles coiling beneath milky white skin as the figure drew nearer.

His petite frame shivered, ignoring the blossoming pain that raced up and down his reddening arm, already blackened in some areas because of how close his skin was to the open-ended wires he hadn’t had the chance to fix until it was too late. Some luck I have. He thought mutely. His heart was pounding against his sternum, blinking several times to clear the watery droplets that threatened to slip down hallowed cheekbones to collect at his chin and drip, pooling into the divots of his collarbone.

Yuhwa cursed, stumbling away from the figure with a pitiful whine. His light blue hues widened at the blurry figure, obvious to the familiar scent that was home. His uninjured hand fumbled, searching for the weapon that he had stored beneath his pillows, only to realize he wasn’t anywhere near the comforts of his nest. His mind flared in panic. Sebastian’s here. He couldn’t think of anything else, but the grappling panic that clutched his heart in a vice-like grip, refusing to let go as he struggled to breathe, mouth parting to suck in air which only made it worse.

Yuhwa had feared the redhead would have found out where he lived, cursing himself for being so … so weak. If only—The pinkette knew nothing horrible would happen, or at the very least, he forced himself to believe it. It was easy to lie to himself, far simpler than dealing with it.

“—hwa!”

“Damnit, Yuhwa!” The male snapped, reaching to grasp the terrified fox by the shoulders, nostrils flaring with an equally steely expression settled upon his ivory-hued face. His lips puckered in annoyance, brows furrowed with worry swirling within the bright azure-colored hues. “Yuhwa! Fuck!” The male hissed.

Yuhwa squirmed within Mason’s grasp, struggling to get out of his captor’s grip with a hiss of his own. His mind reeled with the need to get away. He had to get away or Sebastian would make worth of his promise the day they met at the gravesite while Yuhwa had talked to his half-brother, laughing pitifully while wrapped up in Zhiqiang’s oversized sweater that encompassed his petite frame.

Mason let out a puff of air, letting go of the fox with a grumble, staring at them with narrowed hues. The male noted the bags beneath his hooded hues to the obvious burn along Yuhwa’s left forearm that reddened, contrasting against Yuhwa’s milky white skin. His breath hitched, hues darkening to swirls of midnight at the flashes of blackened skin. “Damnit.” The male brushed a hand through raven-hued locks.

“Hey. Pipsqueak. You're alright. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” He reached forward cautiously, palms outstretched as he watched the pinkette flinch, bringing his injured up against his chest, despite the pain that danced across his facial features. The raven-haired male made a cooing sound that rumbled deep within his chest, soothing the fox with blatant sounds.

Minutes passed until the feeble voice drew Mason out of his thoughts, blinking several times to stare at the pinkette staring up at him with owlish hues. He chuckled, offering the male a relaxed grin despite the tenseness in his shoulders. “Hey there, pipsqueak.” He rumbled.

“Eh?” Yuhwa winced, drawing his gaze to the mess he made of his forearm. Oh. He let out an airy chuckle, letting his injured arm fall limp to his side. “B, Blueberry?” He trilled. His lips parted in an ‘o’ shape.

Mason sighed, quick to shuffle over. His arms expanded to offer the other a hug, which Yuhwa accepted. The pinkette frowned at the shivers that ransacked the male’s frame at the touch, pulling away. He was stopped short by the hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, careful to tug the male back into their embrace. “M’okay.” He muttered.

“Sorry.”

Mason huffed, shaking his head. The male drew the pinkette closer to his chest, allowing the gentle scent of driftwood to calm the injured male. “Should have known better.” The raven-haired male remarked with a shrug. “Think you can walk to the kitchen? Aoi’s got some cold water ready.” He gestured to his forearm which throbbed painfully, reminding him he needed to take care of it; but to leave the comforts of his nest? Yuhwa frowned.

The pinkette nodded, letting the larger male haul him to his feet without difficulty. The two shuffled out of the room and into the kitchen where Aoi awaited. A bowl of cold water awaited him, sighing in relief once the shorter male guided his forearm into the liquid, subduing the fire that prickled at the flesh. His shoulders sagged in relief, body swaying with fatigue until the press of a muscular chest bumped up against his shoulder blades. “S’Alright. I’ve got you, pipsqueak.” Mason rumbled.

“I’ll go grab the bandages.” Aoi hummed. The silent male padded out of the kitchen to hunt for clean bandages and some aloe vera to help ease the pain. The dark-haired male hoped the anti-inflammatory helped, but was unsure of what type of burn. He made note of some of the area charred black, but otherwise, the skin flushed reds. He supposed the blackened area was caused by direct contact with the wires while the rest of his forearm bumped into the still fragile networking of the weapon. He sighed.

Yuhwa watched the other leave, blinking owlishly as he stared into the cozy apartment filled to the brim with greenery and splashes of color. It was a mess, but at least he knew where everything was … mostly.

The pinkette nested deeper into Mason’s embrace, glancing up at the male with furrowed eyebrows. The other responded with a grunt, tightening his hold around Yuhwa’s slim waist. Despite the throbbing pain that danced along Yuhwa’s nerves, he allowed the powerful scent of driftwood to flood his senses, calming him down until he lay, slumped against the other with a thankful chirp.

“How’re you holdin’ up, pinkie?” Mason rumbled. The sound alone sent shivers down the lengths of his spine.

Yuhwa laughed bitterly, shrugging his shoulders while watching the water swirl around his burnt forearm, noting the water’s temperature and the subtle burn it brought along with it. Am I alright? He had to be. “I’ll be fine!” He chirped. His tone wavering but otherwise kept up his cheerful facade. He’d be fine, eventually. He had to be fine, if not for everyone that counted on him to lead. He was a leader, after all. He couldn’t afford these mental breakdowns, unable to tell foe from friend to the bubbling memories that threatened to spill from its cauldron.

Yuhwa would be fine … simple as that.

The raven-haired male huffed, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin of his sides, letting out a rumble that vibrated deep within his throat. “You don’t have to always be fine, pipsqueak. Don’t lie to yourself. I saw the way you reacted when I touched you. You aren’t fine.” He huffed. “Has he contacted you? If he has, I’ll blow his ass until there’s nothing left of him to find.” His lips peeled back to reveal sharp canines.

Yuhwa shook his head, offering the taller male a weak grin. “No. Not since—” He frowned. The pinkette was quick to shake his head, getting rid of unwanted memories before they festered. He was safe. That’s all that mattered, right?

Mason hummed. The demon reached to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Damnit.” Yuhwa tilted his head, removing his arm from the room-temperature water with an inaudible hiss. “I fucked up by touching you like that. Should have known fucking better than to do that. Fucking hell.” He grumbled. “You shouldn’t have to deal with those fuckers. I still don’t know what you saw in that bastard, but I get it. I do.” He added.

Yuhwa’s smile wobbled at the statement, burrowing his face into Mason’s sternum. He felt tears prickle at the corner of his hues until he sucked in a breath. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He repeated. The male turned to dab at his forearm with a kitchen towel, drying off the excess water.

He noted Aoi returning, holding a roll of bandages of homemade aloe vera sealed tight in a plastic container. He gestured towards Yuhwa’s injured arm, patting the counter with a huff. Yuhwa nodded sheepishly, allowing the other to manhandle his arm into a better position despite the flare of pain that left the man gritting his teeth.

“At the time? I hadn’t realized peaches was near when … Sebastian showed up.” He huffed out a laugh. “Silly peaches.” He muttered.

Mason snorted, threading his fingers through strawberry-pink hair. His fingers rubbed at the fox ears that twitched, welcoming the pets with a purr. His tails swished in joy at the pleasurable sensation overriding the pain that sparked and flickered as Aoi made quick work to slather the burn in a hefty amount of aloe vera.

“You need to head to headquarters still?” Yuhwa hummed in agreement, head tilting to allow Mason further reach of the sensitive appendages. Mason bobbed his head, glancing up to meet light-colored hues. “Aoi can help you get dressed them. Something that won’t rub against the bandages.” His nose scrunched up at the thought. “You can borrow my trench coat.” He shrugged. The article of clothing had been tossed on the couch when the twins entered. “I’d cook, but–” Mason huffed. “I can’t cook for shit.”

Yuhwa snorted, biting back a wince as Aoi wrapped the clean bandage around his arm, enough so it protected the sensitive flesh, but where the pain was bearable enough that he didn’t feel like someone was torching his forearm.

He fought back the whimpers that threatened to slip past cracked lips, worrying his bottom lip as he watched. The male was unaware of the soothing rumbles that Mason emitted, attempting to ease the fox’s nerves, only noticing because of the soothing vibrations that ran along the lengths of his spine and shoulder blades. His light blue hues flickered to be bright azure, offering the taller male a hesitant grin.

“Done.” Aoi stepped back, observing his work with a hum. His hands resting on his hips, slender fingers curling into the soft flesh of his hipbone, crinkling his jeans with the pressure. Yuhwa bobbed his head, pulling his arm back to observe the well-wrapped bandage, hiding the damage. His ears twitched, pressing flat against his scalp, blending in with his strawberry-pink locks.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed before someone sends in a squad of morons,” Mason grumbled. The male slipped an arm around Yuhwa’s petite waist, letting long ivory-hued fingers curl until the pressure left Yuhwa’s skin a blinding white, contrasting against his already pale skin. Together the Shimizu twins led the wounded fox back into the comforts of his nest, Aoi gesturing towards the mound of blankets, finger pointing at the clothing they brought, as requested.

“I’ll let Aoi help you. I’ll see what I can do about getting us food on the way to headquarters.” He gruffly responded, slipping out of the room with a grunt. His hand reached to drag down his face, a tired sigh slipping out. Mason’s pupils shifted to horizontal slits, lips curling in disgust at the sight of Yuhwa’s noticeable bruises. His stomach churned at the thought of Yuhwa facing Sebastian alone.

His fingers curled around his biceps, letting the nimble appendages drum a pattern against the exposed flesh. The brothers had gotten a call late into the night, having been ready to curse at whoever was on the phone when Yuhwa’s voice filtered through the speakers. The pinkette stumbles through a poor explanation until inevitably breaking down, asking if one of them could pick him up.

Mason’s fists had clenched, putting two together as the skin bled a ghostly white. His nostrils flared, promising to pick up the distressed fox while slipping out of Keane’s embrace, who had been listening with narrowed hues. The two shared a brief kiss as the raven-haired male shuffled to slip on whatever he could grab from the closet.

The brute shook his head, letting his feet carry him into the living room, flopping onto the couch with a tired groan. His fingers reached to grab his phone as he scrolled through in search of something quick to grab before the trio headed to headquarters. “The next time that fucker comes near, I’m fucking killing him.” He muttered into the phone, shoulders hunched over with an evident scowl.

As Mason slipped out of the room, leaving Aoi and him alone, he flopped onto the bed with a trill. His hand reached to curl into the closest blanket, tugging the comfortable object closer to his frame, having curled up into its heat. He let out a content sigh, snuggling up as Aoi bustled around the room until he slipped into Yuhwa’s closet to pick out clothing while Yuhwa remained content looking through the clothing the twins had brought.

“Thank you.” He chirped, letting himself tug Mason’s trench coat on top of the red fuzzy blanket he had nabbed from his nest of blankets. His dull expression brightening at the comforting scent of driftwood flooded his senses, relishing in the familiar feeling of a protective embrace, akin to the feeling when one returns home.

His nose twitched, grinning at the thought. Home. The twins were his safety blanket. His home, much like the few people that managed to rise in rank, became something far more important to him than anyone ever could. It wasn’t a big list. Few managed to rise, becoming a sense of home. A silly notion, but it brought him great happiness that bled warmth and love.

Most would assume his apartment was home, although they would be only half right. It was the people for as long as possible. Yuhwa blinked several times, pulling himself out of his thoughts to see Aoi standing before him, brow raising in question. The pinkette waved his blanket-covered hand with a cheeky grin. “Sorry! Sorry! What were you saying?” Aoi shook his head, showing the outfit to the other. The shorter male’s expression remained deadpan, blue hues swirling with fondness, but a tinge of sadness remained.

“Found an outfit.” The blue-eyed male held a mixture of the twins’ and Yuhwa’s clothing. The pinkette bobbed his head, shuffling out of his blanket cocoon, allowing his fingers to brush against the edge of the crop top with a turtleneck-styled collar that would expose his midriff.

“Thank you.” The male let out a giddy hum at the welcoming scents of his friends.

The outfit comprised an ombre-styled crop top that bled obsidian along the turtleneck-like collar that hid the hand-shaped bruise from prying eyes. The crop top rested just in the middle of his ribcage, the color fading to a steel grey. The crop top hugged his frame nicely, all while remaining sleeveless, the sleeves bowing in to expose his collarbone with a red ‘x’ that stopped below his pectorals, wrapping around him stopped just a hair past his shoulder blades. The pants were of the same ombre-styled except the pant legs bled obsidian before fading to a dark grey with a black belt wrapped snuggly around his slim waist, exposing a sliver of his evident hipbones.

Aoi helped him slip on a pair of black socks that rested just past his ankles until Yuhwa’s feet bore combat-styled black boots that reached mid-calf. He grinned, twirling around in his outfit once he was done. The corner of Aoi’s lips quirked as he slung Mason’s black trench coat over his shoulders, covering his body while hiding the boot-shaped bruises along his midriff.

“Mason was able to get you another mask.” Aoi gestured for the other to head out. “Let’s see if he found breakfast.”

The pinkette snickered, waving his uninjured hand with a trill. “Alright! Alright! I’m going!” His light blue hues crinkled in laughter despite the clear bags beneath his eyes.

The two stepped into the living room, Yuhwa curling his fingers around the long sleeves of Mason’s trench coat. “Butterfly said you got another mask for me?” The fox skipped plopping onto the couch, glancing up at the taller male with a curious chirp.

The raven-haired male grunted in acknowledgment, hand reaching out to pass the identical mask to the leader. Mason noted the hiss of pain that slipped past his cracked lips, eyebrows furrowing until his gaze caught sight of the boot-shaped bruises hidden behind the trench coat. His gut churned in anger, having pushed the bubbling sensation down, but it seemed it had been pointless to do so.

“M’alright! Honest! Doesn’t hurt all that much anymore.” Yuhwa hummed. Mason huffed, shaking his head with a really face. The pinkette grinned cheekily, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry so much blueberry. I’m not dyin—” Yuhwa paused at the slip-up, wincing at the reminder. “Nevermind.” The male chuckled weakly, reaching with his uninjured hand to rub at his nap.

“...”

Yuhwa hurried to grab the mask from Mason’s lowering hand, fingers curling around the familiar object with a sigh of relief. His body curled into itself as he leaned against the raven-haired male. Mason sighed through his nose, tugging the fox closer until he was tucked into his side with a soothing rumble while Aoi remained perched on the arm, balancing perfectly with sock-cladded feet.

“Get some sleep pipsqueak. We’ll head to headquarters soon. Don’t think they’d appreciate a leader that looks dead on their feet.”

Yuhwa grumbled at the comment, peaking up at the male with puckered lips. “Am not.” Despite the weak protest, he allowed himself to burrow deeper into the male’s side. His legs shifted to curl on the couch while Mason shifted until Yuhwa’s face was pressed against the sensitive flesh of his neck.

“Will he be alright?” Aoi questioned, brows furrowed at the sight of their pink-haired friend.

“Fuck if I know,” Mason muttered, staring down at the man in question with thinned lips. “I don’t think he should be heading to work so fucking soon, but with the damn tournament happening tonight, I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Should we—”

“Fuckin’ course we’re going. Do you think it’s a good idea to leave him alone? He doesn’t need to add his fucked-up boyfriends to the list of things that are gonna happen. Hell! I know damn well Sebastian’s going to show his ugly face and I hope to hell that asshole gets his face blown up by pop rock’s explosions” He huffed. “Damn asshole.” He cursed, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand while Aoi reached over to thread his fingers through Mason’s raven-hued locks, offering wordless comfort while the pad of his thumb brushed against Yuhwa’s high cheekbone.

# # #​

The nine-tailed fox hummed, fingers curling into the fabric of his long sleeves while ignoring the twinge of pain that came from his burn, knowing well enough he had to get it checked out, but Aoi never said when? Yuhwa shuffled along, trailing behind the deadpan male with Mason beside him, relishing in the heat that the taller male oozed.

His body tucked into the safety of Mason’s side, letting out a content sigh despite what transpired earlier. He was doing … better. Yuhwa couldn’t afford to slack off, not when he was in charge. Of course, he could pass things off to his second-in-command and those willing to help, but the thought alone set his stomach churning.

He was still breathing, wasn’t he? He was fine. His mental state mattered little unless it prevented him from doing his job, but so far? He’d be able to shove everything down to collect cobwebs and it’ll remain that way for as long as possible. Yuhwa … had no intention of opening that lid.

Yuhwa sighed, tugging the trench coat closer to his frame, welcoming the delicious heat with a purr. His ears remained alert, swerving on top of the mesh of strawberry-pink hair while his fingers reached to curl around his mask, deeming the object secured.

He sure as hell hoped no one noticed the bruises that littered his frame from his tumble with Sebastian. Stupid skin. He had always been one to easily bruise, something Mason and him shared. He was certain the public would raise questions, claiming Yuhwa was unfit to lead the clan. He was a weak link. Sadly, true. He wasn’t as physically fit as the other clan leaders, and even then he barely had the support of most of those within Ravinca, many assuming he took charge illegally. He shivered at the thought, already expecting the rumors that’d spread. Not that there aren’t already rumors. He let out a humorless chuckle.

The trio halted, standing close to Ravinca’s headquarters as people mingled about, offering their greetings while others peered around objects to get a closer look at the trio, hoping for something exciting to happen. After all! It wasn’t every day Yuhwa returned with two strangers.

Yuhwa shuffled, reaching to brush the pad of his thumb against the mask’s cheek, taking comfort in the familiar object that protected him from scrutiny. His arm throbbed painfully, drawing a high-pitched whine from the fox, curling into himself as he waited for the blooming fire to subside. His injured forearm tucked closely to his chest, already noting the brief blotches of crimson against the pearly-white bandages. Stupid.

His light blue hues dulling, reality finally settling in. He knew peaches would want answers, and they deserved to know, but could Yuhwa open up? He frowned, drawing into himself at the notion. He trusted them. More than anything in the world. He trusted peaches, but the thought of losing them because of … it? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. Yuhwa loved them. They were home as much as Mason and Aoi were.

“You alright pipsqueak?”

Yuhwa glanced up, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll be alright.” He mumbled. Mason rumbled in response, leaning down to press his nose against Yuhwa’s temple. His breath tickled his ear, leaving him chuckling behind his mask, unaware of the ripple effect it caused as people leaned forward, recording devices raised as they mumbled their suspicions. A new lover, perhaps?

Aoi watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head at the platonic lovers with a subtle quirk on his lips, otherwise remaining quiet as Yuhwa withdrew into himself.

“It’s alright! You’ll be at the tournament, right?” He chirped, tone nonetheless convincing as he changed the subject. He’d be fine as long as he didn’t bump into anyone else from his past that still haunted his nightmares.

The fox snickered as Mason pressed a kiss to the base of his left ear, drawing a purr from the pinkette, nuzzling into Mason’s warmth. He became pliable as the raven-haired male moved, wrapping an arm around his petite waist, letting the aromatic scent of driftwood and spices lull him into a relaxed state. The fox was all more compliant as he allowed himself to relax despite the public watching with curious hues.

Aoi was quick to pull closer, head cocked in curiosity while radiating calmness despite the bubbling situation that was sure to make the news. He sighed, reaching to drag a hand through dark-colored locks, already wincing at the amount of trouble it’ll take to clear things up.

Yuhwa puffed out his cheeks, knowing well enough he had to leave if he wanted to talk with peaches and still have time to view the tournament. He still had multiple things to do, especially if he could see if he could test out the new prototypes with no one noticing he was gone. Of course, when do I listen to anyone? He huffed out a laugh against Mason’s collarbone, drawing a grunt from the male. “Somethin’ funny, pipsqueak?”

Yuhwa giggled. “Nothing! Just realizing I need to get a few things done before the tournament starts.” He sighed. “I’ll visit our medic too!” He glanced over at Aoi, hoping that would appeal to the other who narrowed his gaze, merely offering a nod in response. His shoulders slumped in relief, pulling away from Mason’s embrace with a frown. He always loved Mason’s hugs even if the male was still terrified of touch, but they were getting there and it made the fox all the happier. Can’t speed progress!

He rocked on the balls of his boot-cladded feet, making sure the trench coat was wrapped snuggly around his frame. The nimble appendages were the only sliver of milky white flesh visible against the dark contrast which curled loosely around the cuff of the long sleeves.

The male waved goodbye, spinning on his heels to head into headquarters only for the fragile serenity to shatter at the sound of rapid barking. Of course, his body froze. His light blue hues zeroed in on the two large canines running towards him with flopping tongues sending the male spiraling as whimpers slipped passed his lips.

No. No. No. No! His throat constricted, unable to draw in breath as a pitiful whine escaped, body wracked with fear. He begged his body to run. Please! Move! His chest shuddered. Get away! I need to get away—He couldn’t help but feel weak. He was a leader, for goodness sake! Yet? Here he was shaking in his boots at the mere sight of a pair of dogs. Weak. Pathetic. His voice reminded him as did many others.

He needed to—A pathetic whimper escaped instead. He couldn’t move. His breath remained ragged, leaving him light-headed. His body all but collapsed despite the heady shouts that came from the Shimizu twins and those of his clan. The blood roared loud in his ears, in sync with the harsh pounding of his heart that thrummed against his sternum, begging to be released from its prison.

The pinkette shrunk into himself, curling forward to appear smaller than he was, even if his arm screamed in pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if more blood speckled the pristine white bandages hidden beneath the sleeve of his trench coat.

# # #​

The foul stench hit him like a ton of bricks, stopping him in his tracks. The young child let out a whimper as he dove behind the wall and the dumpster, holding onto the half-eaten sandwich he found minutes ago, having already taken a quick bite to settle his churning stomach. His head throbbing, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. This a usual occurrence for the malnourished male who stumbled his way through life on the streets.

His mind reeled at the thick stench of blood, making him gag. He coughed roughly into the palm of his hand, stomach-churning until he crumbled with a pitiful mewl settled upon thin lips. Everything felt wrong. He wasn’t here, but he was. It was confusing, but Yuhwa found himself back in the alleyway as a small child, far too hungry.

The long-haired male huddled behind a dumpster as a pack of dogs neared his quivering form, hugging the half-eaten sandwich tight to his chest, uncaring if the condiments smeared across his tattered shirt. Their teeth snapped at his exposed feet, unable to get any farther as he shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, swallowing with a wince. The food sliding down his throat burned, leaving him sputtering and pounding his chest until it went down.

Why was he here? Yuhwa couldn’t remember over his gurgling stomach. His body is too small. His skin feels loose and wrong. His heart thumped harshly against his sternum like hummingbird wings, threatening to explode from his chest. He felt himself be pulled in multiple directions, as his older self lay crumpled on the sidewalk while he remained trapped in his mind, hands tearing into the soft material of his shirt.

Yuhwa bit back the cry that bubbled from the back of his throat, cursing at himself for being weak. The hot breath of the dog’s teeth sank into his ankle, while the other dogs kept on the onslaught of snapping jaws, nipping at the exposed flesh until he blistered with pain.

His lips trembled. “Go away!” Please! Go away! I’m hungry! I can’t—A quiet sob slipped past the child’s mouth without meaning to, followed by choked whimpers as the dog latched onto his ankle and dragged him further into the alleyway, far from the protection the dumpster provided him.

The pack of dogs circled his trembling frame, their maws gaping as they tore into tender flesh, leaving behind physiological scars that Yuhwa doubted he’d ever recover from.

A larger canine towered over his malnourished frame, jaw unhinged to tear into bloodied flesh, allowing drool to dribble onto Yuhwa with sickening plops. He flinched at the noise, hands reaching to clamp over his ears, hoping it’d block out the sounds of snarling dogs.

He couldn’t run. If he ran, they’d chase him until his lungs screamed for air. Until his small legs trembled, unable to keep himself up as he tumbled, bruising the tender flesh as he was circled once more. He couldn’t get away.

He winced at the globs of drool slicking his long dark chestnut hair as his breathing came in quick gasps, allowing the pounding of his head to take over. He felt it throb in time with his heart, the notion feeling wrong. So so wrong. Make it stop! He needed—He wanted it to stop. The pinkette curled into himself, lips parted to take in shuddering breaths as the massive beast snarled, teeth sinking into his forearm drawing a cry from his lips.

He flinched, noting something wrapped loosely around his frame, barely making out the voices that flooded his mind, pooling with concern. His eyebrows furrowed, noting his surroundings that bled, blurring together until he couldn’t make out much anymore. What? What’s happening? Who—He peered up through thick eyelashes at where he assumed the massive beast still stood, only to peer into bright azure-colored hues.

“—Hwa!”

“Don’t … rational … panic.” A second voice chimed in, unable to make out what was being said. His ears rang loudly drawing an annoyed whine from his chapped lips. He could feel himself slowly coming too, blinking several times to realize his mask was discarded, having been tossed onto the desk in the twins' haste to get the pinkette out of the public’s view and into the safety of his office.

He blinked several times, unable to clear his vision that pooled with crystallized tears, sliding down his cheeks to collect around his chin. Wh, Where? He didn’t remember getting here? He was … he was? I was outside—

The hushed voices returned, drawing the male out of his thoughts. “M, Mason?” His voice was hoarse.

“Hey, there pipsqueak. You’re safe now, alright? Nothin’ gonna hurt you, pinkie. You gonna come back to us?” Mason rumbled out soothingly, pulling the pinkette closer to his arm, only now realizing they were tucked away behind his desk. The raven-haired male carded his fingers through Yuhwa’s locks while the other slowly came to while Aoi remained crouched, rubbing soothing circles against Yuhwa’s kneecap.

“M’fine,” Yuhwa muttered sluggishly. His fingers reached to curl around Mason’s wrist, his thumb pressed against his pulse point to feel the steady rhyme of his heart, pulling the male further out of his mind. His tone does nothing to convenience the two before him. Mason let out a snort, shaking his head.

“Don’t lie to yourself, dumbass.” He huffed. “You and I both know you're not fine.” He grumbled. Aoi hummed in agreement, settling back onto the pads of his feet while Mason shuffled to card a hand through his raven-hued locks.

Yuhwa grumbled, sinking into Mason’s embrace still not all there, but he was better than earlier. He offered Aoi a weak-filled grin, knees tucked close to his chest as he cradled his injured forearm, noting the splotches of blood multiplying. He sighed. I was hoping I’d be able to ignore it. He wondered if he could still ignore it. All it took was wrapping some clean bandages around it and claiming he’d gone to the medics. He was sure they’d believe it unless Aoi asked to see the burnt flesh … which Yuhwa was surely fucked then.

Some leader I am. He bit back a huff. His mind was still groggy as ghost pains fluttered across milky white skin, reminding him of things he’d wish to forget. He felt horrible. Impossibly weaker than ever.

Sensing Yuhwa’s turmoil, Aoi poked the other with his index finger. “We’ll be heading to Sinikka’s to get some more bandages and some anti-biotic cream for your burn.” He glanced up at Mason who frowned, seemingly unwilling to let the pinkette go. “Would you like one of us to stay?”

Stay? Did he want that? No. He shooed the two towards the door, shaking his head. “Go. I’ll be fine for a while.” I think. “No need to bother Sin for—”

“Yuhwa.” Mason’s tone left no room for argument, shutting up the pinkette with a puff of his cheeks. “We’ll meet back at the tournament, alright? Aoi will re-bandage your arm, but so fucking help me if you don’t get it checked out after we leave I’m revoking your plant privileges.”

Yuhwa gasped, staring at the taller male with a hurtful expression. “I–No! You can’t do that! I still need to get—” He shrieked. Mason held up a hand to silence the other.

“Then go get it looked at.” He rumbled. Yuwha trilled in annoyance, lips puckered in a childish pout. You can’t revoke me from buying more plants. He nodded after a while, watching the two slip out with a kiss on his temple and a promise to see each other again.

He shivered, already missing the heat the two provided as he slipped into the plush office chair, curling up with a wince. His trench coat had been tossed aside, leaving one to see most of his bruises and bloodied bandages. He sure looked like hell warmed over, not that the male cared all that much at the moment.

He really wished he had better luck, but it seems fate enjoyed watching him squirm and stumble through life. He winced, glancing at the scattered papers that were in untidy piles for later reviewing, mentioning plans for the future while others asked for more funding. His hands reached out to grab a stack of papers, ignoring the way his hands shook vigorously. His breath coming in shuddered gasps as he got to work skimming the pages.

thoughts speech​





i forgot what it's like to be loved.































































you're a little tragedy, aren't you?
























♡coded by uxie♡



















scroll








ravinca leader



yuhwa aeng.













alias

hananoami











birth name

yu hua











courtesy name

yu yingjie











nicknames

pretty boy, pinkie, cherry ( cakes ), yunnie, yinnie











titles

pink spiderlily, huli jing











species

demon ( nine-tailed fox )











pronouns

he / him











age

" twenty-five "











abilities

shapeshifting, shield construction, wound | pain transfer











clan ability

falling yin
















THE PINKETTE LAID, CURLED UP BENEATH a pile of scented blankets, weighing comfortably around his compact frame. The nine-tailed fox burrows deeper into its delicious warmth with a croon, while the pads of his fingers rubbed against the soft fabric absently. His gaze narrowed, letting out a quiet puff of air at his moment of weakness not long ago. His stomach churned at the proximity of his ex. The thought alone triggered the male into a frenzy as shivers danced along his clothed frame. An inaudible whimper escaped past his bruised lips, ignoring the tang of copper as he continued to worry the sensitive flesh.

The male had cocooned himself the second he’d gotten home from headquarters. Yuhwa waved off everyone as he stumbled to his apartment, mind far too gone to realize until he rammed his forehead against the fake wood. His nose scrunched up at the memory, shaking his head with a puff of air. Idiot. How could he wander the streets knowing Sebastian was close by? His lips parted, letting soft chuckles escape. He sure was asking to get kidnapped, wasn’t he? The thought alone brought another set of shivers, deciding to hike up the mound of blankets, burrowing his nose into the soft fabric with a choked sigh. Driftwood entered his nose, calming the fox until he sagged into the blanket’s heat, his light blue hues void of emotion, nothing more than blank states.

After all, Yuhwa had no intentions of feeling. He certainly didn’t want to deal with the onslaught of memories that bubbled up to the surface, threatening to spill and destroy the delicate balance he had created some years ago. He had no intentions of welcoming the unwanted memories after his scuffle with Sebastian. His throat twinged in pain at the notion. His lips puckered in annoyance, allowing his fingers to grace the sensitive flesh of his neck that blossomed with ugly colors, showcasing the obvious handprint that had been wrapped snuggly around his throat, cutting off his air supply as he lay there, accepting his face with fearful hues.

Yuhwa had thought he was doing better, but it seemed everything he’d done to shove those memories to the back to collect cobwebs was damn well useless. He let out a whimper, turning into a broken keen. Damnit! He had been doing better. He had been happy, or as happy as the leader could be.

The fox curled into himself further, hands itching to do something, anything to get his mind off of everything, but did he want to leave his nest? The male frowned, worrying his bottom lip in absent thought. His light blue hues narrowed at the mess of wires and scraps of metal tossed on his desk, several stacks of files laid haphazardly. I could start a few—His mind supplied. It was an easy distraction. One he took graciously as he wiggled out of his cocoon, ignoring the keen that slipped out.

His body ached with each stumble, reminding him of how frail his body had gotten over the years. He sighed, reaching to rub at heavy eyelids. The heavy reminder that he hadn’t slept in days, save for the few minute power naps he’d sneak in before moving on to the next project.

The male was quick to slump into the plush chair he put together with some help from Mason. Having made quirk work despite the laughter and roughhousing the two managed to get into while Aoi sighed, watching the two with dead ocean hues.

Yuhwa shook his head, hands fiddling with the mesh of wires with little protection against the delicate flesh of his palms. His mind eased into a practiced serenity, allowing the occasional spark and grind of metal to soothe his aches. The familiar notion allowed him moments of peace that he soaked up like a sponge.

The pinkette wasn’t sure how long time had passed, far too deep into his creations and scanning the many files, occasionally scribbling his name down or double checking all was in order. He was the leader, after all. Of course, Yuhwa still felt unworthy of such a grand title, no matter how hard the male tried. Nothing ever seemed to be enough. Could he be as grand as his Master had once been? Certainly, not.

He scowled, fingers knee-deep in his work, uncaring of the blood that trickled down his nose, pooling around his chin to dribble on the desk, splattering with a quiet splat. His light blue hues lacked their usual luster, instead, far too dull for anyone’s liking.

It seemed he had been too focused on his work to realize the door opening, flooding the apartment with familiar, comforting scents. His head bowed low to stare into the depths of the weapon he’d been working on for some time. The male arm-deep within the machine until the door swung open, startling the fox with a squawk. The notion sent his forearm plunging into a mess of wires that had yet to be fixed into their proper place, burning the sensitive flesh.

The familiar stench of burnt flesh wafted through the room, drowning out the various smells of his potted plants that hung everywhere. Despite the situation, it truly was an amazing sight to behold. The room appears jungle-like despite the furniture, giving the fox the perfect habitat to nest and work.

“Shit! Yuhwa!” Mason’s voice boomed, rushing over to cradle his blackened arm while the pinkette withered, canines sinking into the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip to stiffen the cries that bubbled, threatening to spill past cracked lips. Who? Yuhwa’s mind wandered, muscles coiling beneath milky white skin as the figure drew nearer.

His petite frame shivered, ignoring the blossoming pain that raced up and down his reddening arm, already blackened in some areas because of how close his skin was to the open-ended wires he hadn’t had the chance to fix until it was too late. Some luck I have. He thought mutely. His heart was pounding against his sternum, blinking several times to clear the watery droplets that threatened to slip down hallowed cheekbones to collect at his chin and drip, pooling into the divots of his collarbone.

Yuhwa cursed, stumbling away from the figure with a pitiful whine. His light blue hues widened at the blurry figure, obvious to the familiar scent that was home. His uninjured hand fumbled, searching for the weapon that he had stored beneath his pillows, only to realize he wasn’t anywhere near the comforts of his nest. His mind flared in panic. Sebastian’s here. He couldn’t think of anything else, but the grappling panic that clutched his heart in a vice-like grip, refusing to let go as he struggled to breathe, mouth parting to suck in air which only made it worse.

Yuhwa had feared the redhead would have found out where he lived, cursing himself for being so … so weak. If only—The pinkette knew nothing horrible would happen, or at the very least, he forced himself to believe it. It was easy to lie to himself, far simpler than dealing with it.

“—hwa!”

“Damnit, Yuhwa!” The male snapped, reaching to grasp the terrified fox by the shoulders, nostrils flaring with an equally steely expression settled upon his ivory-hued face. His lips puckered in annoyance, brows furrowed with worry swirling within the bright azure-colored hues. “Yuhwa! Fuck!” The male hissed.

Yuhwa squirmed within Mason’s grasp, struggling to get out of his captor’s grip with a hiss of his own. His mind reeled with the need to get away. He had to get away or Sebastian would make worth of his promise the day they met at the gravesite while Yuhwa had talked to his half-brother, laughing pitifully while wrapped up in Zhiqiang’s oversized sweater that encompassed his petite frame.

Mason let out a puff of air, letting go of the fox with a grumble, staring at them with narrowed hues. The male noted the bags beneath his hooded hues to the obvious burn along Yuhwa’s left forearm that reddened, contrasting against Yuhwa’s milky white skin. His breath hitched, hues darkening to swirls of midnight at the flashes of blackened skin. “Damnit.” The male brushed a hand through raven-hued locks.

“Hey. Pipsqueak. You're alright. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” He reached forward cautiously, palms outstretched as he watched the pinkette flinch, bringing his injured up against his chest, despite the pain that danced across his facial features. The raven-haired male made a cooing sound that rumbled deep within his chest, soothing the fox with blatant sounds.

Minutes passed until the feeble voice drew Mason out of his thoughts, blinking several times to stare at the pinkette staring up at him with owlish hues. He chuckled, offering the male a relaxed grin despite the tenseness in his shoulders. “Hey there, pipsqueak.” He rumbled.

“Eh?” Yuhwa winced, drawing his gaze to the mess he made of his forearm. Oh. He let out an airy chuckle, letting his injured arm fall limp to his side. “B, Blueberry?” He trilled. His lips parted in an ‘o’ shape.

Mason sighed, quick to shuffle over. His arms expanded to offer the other a hug, which Yuhwa accepted. The pinkette frowned at the shivers that ransacked the male’s frame at the touch, pulling away. He was stopped short by the hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, careful to tug the male back into their embrace. “M’okay.” He muttered.

“Sorry.”

Mason huffed, shaking his head. The male drew the pinkette closer to his chest, allowing the gentle scent of driftwood to calm the injured male. “Should have known better.” The raven-haired male remarked with a shrug. “Think you can walk to the kitchen? Aoi’s got some cold water ready.” He gestured to his forearm which throbbed painfully, reminding him he needed to take care of it; but to leave the comforts of his nest? Yuhwa frowned.

The pinkette nodded, letting the larger male haul him to his feet without difficulty. The two shuffled out of the room and into the kitchen where Aoi awaited. A bowl of cold water awaited him, sighing in relief once the shorter male guided his forearm into the liquid, subduing the fire that prickled at the flesh. His shoulders sagged in relief, body swaying with fatigue until the press of a muscular chest bumped up against his shoulder blades. “S’Alright. I’ve got you, pipsqueak.” Mason rumbled.

“I’ll go grab the bandages.” Aoi hummed. The silent male padded out of the kitchen to hunt for clean bandages and some aloe vera to help ease the pain. The dark-haired male hoped the anti-inflammatory helped, but was unsure of what type of burn. He made note of some of the area charred black, but otherwise, the skin flushed reds. He supposed the blackened area was caused by direct contact with the wires while the rest of his forearm bumped into the still fragile networking of the weapon. He sighed.

Yuhwa watched the other leave, blinking owlishly as he stared into the cozy apartment filled to the brim with greenery and splashes of color. It was a mess, but at least he knew where everything was … mostly.

The pinkette nested deeper into Mason’s embrace, glancing up at the male with furrowed eyebrows. The other responded with a grunt, tightening his hold around Yuhwa’s slim waist. Despite the throbbing pain that danced along Yuhwa’s nerves, he allowed the powerful scent of driftwood to flood his senses, calming him down until he lay, slumped against the other with a thankful chirp.

“How’re you holdin’ up, pinkie?” Mason rumbled. The sound alone sent shivers down the lengths of his spine.

Yuhwa laughed bitterly, shrugging his shoulders while watching the water swirl around his burnt forearm, noting the water’s temperature and the subtle burn it brought along with it. Am I alright? He had to be. “I’ll be fine!” He chirped. His tone wavering but otherwise kept up his cheerful facade. He’d be fine, eventually. He had to be fine, if not for everyone that counted on him to lead. He was a leader, after all. He couldn’t afford these mental breakdowns, unable to tell foe from friend to the bubbling memories that threatened to spill from its cauldron.

Yuhwa would be fine … simple as that.

The raven-haired male huffed, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin of his sides, letting out a rumble that vibrated deep within his throat. “You don’t have to always be fine, pipsqueak. Don’t lie to yourself. I saw the way you reacted when I touched you. You aren’t fine.” He huffed. “Has he contacted you? If he has, I’ll blow his ass until there’s nothing left of him to find.” His lips peeled back to reveal sharp canines.

Yuhwa shook his head, offering the taller male a weak grin. “No. Not since—” He frowned. The pinkette was quick to shake his head, getting rid of unwanted memories before they festered. He was safe. That’s all that mattered, right?

Mason hummed. The demon reached to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Damnit.” Yuhwa tilted his head, removing his arm from the room-temperature water with an inaudible hiss. “I fucked up by touching you like that. Should have known fucking better than to do that. Fucking hell.” He grumbled. “You shouldn’t have to deal with those fuckers. I still don’t know what you saw in that bastard, but I get it. I do.” He added.

Yuhwa’s smile wobbled at the statement, burrowing his face into Mason’s sternum. He felt tears prickle at the corner of his hues until he sucked in a breath. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He repeated. The male turned to dab at his forearm with a kitchen towel, drying off the excess water.

He noted Aoi returning, holding a roll of bandages of homemade aloe vera sealed tight in a plastic container. He gestured towards Yuhwa’s injured arm, patting the counter with a huff. Yuhwa nodded sheepishly, allowing the other to manhandle his arm into a better position despite the flare of pain that left the man gritting his teeth.

“At the time? I hadn’t realized peaches was near when … Sebastian showed up.” He huffed out a laugh. “Silly peaches.” He muttered.

Mason snorted, threading his fingers through strawberry-pink hair. His fingers rubbed at the fox ears that twitched, welcoming the pets with a purr. His tails swished in joy at the pleasurable sensation overriding the pain that sparked and flickered as Aoi made quick work to slather the burn in a hefty amount of aloe vera.

“You need to head to headquarters still?” Yuhwa hummed in agreement, head tilting to allow Mason further reach of the sensitive appendages. Mason bobbed his head, glancing up to meet light-colored hues. “Aoi can help you get dressed them. Something that won’t rub against the bandages.” His nose scrunched up at the thought. “You can borrow my trench coat.” He shrugged. The article of clothing had been tossed on the couch when the twins entered. “I’d cook, but–” Mason huffed. “I can’t cook for shit.”

Yuhwa snorted, biting back a wince as Aoi wrapped the clean bandage around his arm, enough so it protected the sensitive flesh, but where the pain was bearable enough that he didn’t feel like someone was torching his forearm.

He fought back the whimpers that threatened to slip past cracked lips, worrying his bottom lip as he watched. The male was unaware of the soothing rumbles that Mason emitted, attempting to ease the fox’s nerves, only noticing because of the soothing vibrations that ran along the lengths of his spine and shoulder blades. His light blue hues flickered to be bright azure, offering the taller male a hesitant grin.

“Done.” Aoi stepped back, observing his work with a hum. His hands resting on his hips, slender fingers curling into the soft flesh of his hipbone, crinkling his jeans with the pressure. Yuhwa bobbed his head, pulling his arm back to observe the well-wrapped bandage, hiding the damage. His ears twitched, pressing flat against his scalp, blending in with his strawberry-pink locks.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed before someone sends in a squad of morons,” Mason grumbled. The male slipped an arm around Yuhwa’s petite waist, letting long ivory-hued fingers curl until the pressure left Yuhwa’s skin a blinding white, contrasting against his already pale skin. Together the Shimizu twins led the wounded fox back into the comforts of his nest, Aoi gesturing towards the mound of blankets, finger pointing at the clothing they brought, as requested.

“I’ll let Aoi help you. I’ll see what I can do about getting us food on the way to headquarters.” He gruffly responded, slipping out of the room with a grunt. His hand reached to drag down his face, a tired sigh slipping out. Mason’s pupils shifted to horizontal slits, lips curling in disgust at the sight of Yuhwa’s noticeable bruises. His stomach churned at the thought of Yuhwa facing Sebastian alone.

His fingers curled around his biceps, letting the nimble appendages drum a pattern against the exposed flesh. The brothers had gotten a call late into the night, having been ready to curse at whoever was on the phone when Yuhwa’s voice filtered through the speakers. The pinkette stumbles through a poor explanation until inevitably breaking down, asking if one of them could pick him up.

Mason’s fists had clenched, putting two together as the skin bled a ghostly white. His nostrils flared, promising to pick up the distressed fox while slipping out of Keane’s embrace, who had been listening with narrowed hues. The two shared a brief kiss as the raven-haired male shuffled to slip on whatever he could grab from the closet.

The brute shook his head, letting his feet carry him into the living room, flopping onto the couch with a tired groan. His fingers reached to grab his phone as he scrolled through in search of something quick to grab before the trio headed to headquarters. “The next time that fucker comes near, I’m fucking killing him.” He muttered into the phone, shoulders hunched over with an evident scowl.

As Mason slipped out of the room, leaving Aoi and him alone, he flopped onto the bed with a trill. His hand reached to curl into the closest blanket, tugging the comfortable object closer to his frame, having curled up into its heat. He let out a content sigh, snuggling up as Aoi bustled around the room until he slipped into Yuhwa’s closet to pick out clothing while Yuhwa remained content looking through the clothing the twins had brought.

“Thank you.” He chirped, letting himself tug Mason’s trench coat on top of the red fuzzy blanket he had nabbed from his nest of blankets. His dull expression brightening at the comforting scent of driftwood flooded his senses, relishing in the familiar feeling of a protective embrace, akin to the feeling when one returns home.

His nose twitched, grinning at the thought. Home. The twins were his safety blanket. His home, much like the few people that managed to rise in rank, became something far more important to him than anyone ever could. It wasn’t a big list. Few managed to rise, becoming a sense of home. A silly notion, but it brought him great happiness that bled warmth and love.

Most would assume his apartment was home, although they would be only half right. It was the people for as long as possible. Yuhwa blinked several times, pulling himself out of his thoughts to see Aoi standing before him, brow raising in question. The pinkette waved his blanket-covered hand with a cheeky grin. “Sorry! Sorry! What were you saying?” Aoi shook his head, showing the outfit to the other. The shorter male’s expression remained deadpan, blue hues swirling with fondness, but a tinge of sadness remained.

“Found an outfit.” The blue-eyed male held a mixture of the twins’ and Yuhwa’s clothing. The pinkette bobbed his head, shuffling out of his blanket cocoon, allowing his fingers to brush against the edge of the crop top with a turtleneck-styled collar that would expose his midriff.

“Thank you.” The male let out a giddy hum at the welcoming scents of his friends.

The outfit comprised an ombre-styled crop top that bled obsidian along the turtleneck-like collar that hid the hand-shaped bruise from prying eyes. The crop top rested just in the middle of his ribcage, the color fading to a steel grey. The crop top hugged his frame nicely, all while remaining sleeveless, the sleeves bowing in to expose his collarbone with a red ‘x’ that stopped below his pectorals, wrapping around him stopped just a hair past his shoulder blades. The pants were of the same ombre-styled except the pant legs bled obsidian before fading to a dark grey with a black belt wrapped snuggly around his slim waist, exposing a sliver of his evident hipbones.

Aoi helped him slip on a pair of black socks that rested just past his ankles until Yuhwa’s feet bore combat-styled black boots that reached mid-calf. He grinned, twirling around in his outfit once he was done. The corner of Aoi’s lips quirked as he slung Mason’s black trench coat over his shoulders, covering his body while hiding the boot-shaped bruises along his midriff.

“Mason was able to get you another mask.” Aoi gestured for the other to head out. “Let’s see if he found breakfast.”

The pinkette snickered, waving his uninjured hand with a trill. “Alright! Alright! I’m going!” His light blue hues crinkled in laughter despite the clear bags beneath his eyes.

The two stepped into the living room, Yuhwa curling his fingers around the long sleeves of Mason’s trench coat. “Butterfly said you got another mask for me?” The fox skipped plopping onto the couch, glancing up at the taller male with a curious chirp.

The raven-haired male grunted in acknowledgment, hand reaching out to pass the identical mask to the leader. Mason noted the hiss of pain that slipped past his cracked lips, eyebrows furrowing until his gaze caught sight of the boot-shaped bruises hidden behind the trench coat. His gut churned in anger, having pushed the bubbling sensation down, but it seemed it had been pointless to do so.

“M’alright! Honest! Doesn’t hurt all that much anymore.” Yuhwa hummed. Mason huffed, shaking his head with a really face. The pinkette grinned cheekily, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry so much blueberry. I’m not dyin—” Yuhwa paused at the slip-up, wincing at the reminder. “Nevermind.” The male chuckled weakly, reaching with his uninjured hand to rub at his nap.

“...”

Yuhwa hurried to grab the mask from Mason’s lowering hand, fingers curling around the familiar object with a sigh of relief. His body curled into itself as he leaned against the raven-haired male. Mason sighed through his nose, tugging the fox closer until he was tucked into his side with a soothing rumble while Aoi remained perched on the arm, balancing perfectly with sock-cladded feet.

“Get some sleep pipsqueak. We’ll head to headquarters soon. Don’t think they’d appreciate a leader that looks dead on their feet.”

Yuhwa grumbled at the comment, peaking up at the male with puckered lips. “Am not.” Despite the weak protest, he allowed himself to burrow deeper into the male’s side. His legs shifted to curl on the couch while Mason shifted until Yuhwa’s face was pressed against the sensitive flesh of his neck.

“Will he be alright?” Aoi questioned, brows furrowed at the sight of their pink-haired friend.

“Fuck if I know,” Mason muttered, staring down at the man in question with thinned lips. “I don’t think he should be heading to work so fucking soon, but with the damn tournament happening tonight, I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Should we—”

“Fuckin’ course we’re going. Do you think it’s a good idea to leave him alone? He doesn’t need to add his fucked-up boyfriends to the list of things that are gonna happen. Hell! I know damn well Sebastian’s going to show his ugly face and I hope to hell that asshole gets his face blown up by pop rock’s explosions” He huffed. “Damn asshole.” He cursed, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand while Aoi reached over to thread his fingers through Mason’s raven-hued locks, offering wordless comfort while the pad of his thumb brushed against Yuhwa’s high cheekbone.

# # #​

The nine-tailed fox hummed, fingers curling into the fabric of his long sleeves while ignoring the twinge of pain that came from his burn, knowing well enough he had to get it checked out, but Aoi never said when? Yuhwa shuffled along, trailing behind the deadpan male with Mason beside him, relishing in the heat that the taller male oozed.

His body tucked into the safety of Mason’s side, letting out a content sigh despite what transpired earlier. He was doing … better. Yuhwa couldn’t afford to slack off, not when he was in charge. Of course, he could pass things off to his second-in-command and those willing to help, but the thought alone set his stomach churning.

He was still breathing, wasn’t he? He was fine. His mental state mattered little unless it prevented him from doing his job, but so far? He’d be able to shove everything down to collect cobwebs and it’ll remain that way for as long as possible. Yuhwa … had no intention of opening that lid.

Yuhwa sighed, tugging the trench coat closer to his frame, welcoming the delicious heat with a purr. His ears remained alert, swerving on top of the mesh of strawberry-pink hair while his fingers reached to curl around his mask, deeming the object secured.

He sure as hell hoped no one noticed the bruises that littered his frame from his tumble with Sebastian. Stupid skin. He had always been one to easily bruise, something Mason and him shared. He was certain the public would raise questions, claiming Yuhwa was unfit to lead the clan. He was a weak link. Sadly, true. He wasn’t as physically fit as the other clan leaders, and even then he barely had the support of most of those within Ravinca, many assuming he took charge illegally. He shivered at the thought, already expecting the rumors that’d spread. Not that there aren’t already rumors. He let out a humorless chuckle.

The trio halted, standing close to Ravinca’s headquarters as people mingled about, offering their greetings while others peered around objects to get a closer look at the trio, hoping for something exciting to happen. After all! It wasn’t every day Yuhwa returned with two strangers.

Yuhwa shuffled, reaching to brush the pad of his thumb against the mask’s cheek, taking comfort in the familiar object that protected him from scrutiny. His arm throbbed painfully, drawing a high-pitched whine from the fox, curling into himself as he waited for the blooming fire to subside. His injured forearm tucked closely to his chest, already noting the brief blotches of crimson against the pearly-white bandages. Stupid.

His light blue hues dulling, reality finally settling in. He knew peaches would want answers, and they deserved to know, but could Yuhwa open up? He frowned, drawing into himself at the notion. He trusted them. More than anything in the world. He trusted peaches, but the thought of losing them because of … it? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. Yuhwa loved them. They were home as much as Mason and Aoi were.

“You alright pipsqueak?”

Yuhwa glanced up, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll be alright.” He mumbled. Mason rumbled in response, leaning down to press his nose against Yuhwa’s temple. His breath tickled his ear, leaving him chuckling behind his mask, unaware of the ripple effect it caused as people leaned forward, recording devices raised as they mumbled their suspicions. A new lover, perhaps?

Aoi watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head at the platonic lovers with a subtle quirk on his lips, otherwise remaining quiet as Yuhwa withdrew into himself.

“It’s alright! You’ll be at the tournament, right?” He chirped, tone nonetheless convincing as he changed the subject. He’d be fine as long as he didn’t bump into anyone else from his past that still haunted his nightmares.

The fox snickered as Mason pressed a kiss to the base of his left ear, drawing a purr from the pinkette, nuzzling into Mason’s warmth. He became pliable as the raven-haired male moved, wrapping an arm around his petite waist, letting the aromatic scent of driftwood and spices lull him into a relaxed state. The fox was all more compliant as he allowed himself to relax despite the public watching with curious hues.

Aoi was quick to pull closer, head cocked in curiosity while radiating calmness despite the bubbling situation that was sure to make the news. He sighed, reaching to drag a hand through dark-colored locks, already wincing at the amount of trouble it’ll take to clear things up.

Yuhwa puffed out his cheeks, knowing well enough he had to leave if he wanted to talk with peaches and still have time to view the tournament. He still had multiple things to do, especially if he could see if he could test out the new prototypes with no one noticing he was gone. Of course, when do I listen to anyone? He huffed out a laugh against Mason’s collarbone, drawing a grunt from the male. “Somethin’ funny, pipsqueak?”

Yuhwa giggled. “Nothing! Just realizing I need to get a few things done before the tournament starts.” He sighed. “I’ll visit our medic too!” He glanced over at Aoi, hoping that would appeal to the other who narrowed his gaze, merely offering a nod in response. His shoulders slumped in relief, pulling away from Mason’s embrace with a frown. He always loved Mason’s hugs even if the male was still terrified of touch, but they were getting there and it made the fox all the happier. Can’t speed progress!

He rocked on the balls of his boot-cladded feet, making sure the trench coat was wrapped snuggly around his frame. The nimble appendages were the only sliver of milky white flesh visible against the dark contrast which curled loosely around the cuff of the long sleeves.

The male waved goodbye, spinning on his heels to head into headquarters only for the fragile serenity to shatter at the sound of rapid barking. Of course, his body froze. His light blue hues zeroed in on the two large canines running towards him with flopping tongues sending the male spiraling as whimpers slipped passed his lips.

No. No. No. No! His throat constricted, unable to draw in breath as a pitiful whine escaped, body wracked with fear. He begged his body to run. Please! Move! His chest shuddered. Get away! I need to get away—He couldn’t help but feel weak. He was a leader, for goodness sake! Yet? Here he was shaking in his boots at the mere sight of a pair of dogs. Weak. Pathetic. His voice reminded him as did many others.

He needed to—A pathetic whimper escaped instead. He couldn’t move. His breath remained ragged, leaving him light-headed. His body all but collapsed despite the heady shouts that came from the Shimizu twins and those of his clan. The blood roared loud in his ears, in sync with the harsh pounding of his heart that thrummed against his sternum, begging to be released from its prison.

The pinkette shrunk into himself, curling forward to appear smaller than he was, even if his arm screamed in pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if more blood speckled the pristine white bandages hidden beneath the sleeve of his trench coat.

# # #​

The foul stench hit him like a ton of bricks, stopping him in his tracks. The young child let out a whimper as he dove behind the wall and the dumpster, holding onto the half-eaten sandwich he found minutes ago, having already taken a quick bite to settle his churning stomach. His head throbbing, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. This a usual occurrence for the malnourished male who stumbled his way through life on the streets.

His mind reeled at the thick stench of blood, making him gag. He coughed roughly into the palm of his hand, stomach-churning until he crumbled with a pitiful mewl settled upon thin lips. Everything felt wrong. He wasn’t here, but he was. It was confusing, but Yuhwa found himself back in the alleyway as a small child, far too hungry.

The long-haired male huddled behind a dumpster as a pack of dogs neared his quivering form, hugging the half-eaten sandwich tight to his chest, uncaring if the condiments smeared across his tattered shirt. Their teeth snapped at his exposed feet, unable to get any farther as he shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, swallowing with a wince. The food sliding down his throat burned, leaving him sputtering and pounding his chest until it went down.

Why was he here? Yuhwa couldn’t remember over his gurgling stomach. His body is too small. His skin feels loose and wrong. His heart thumped harshly against his sternum like hummingbird wings, threatening to explode from his chest. He felt himself be pulled in multiple directions, as his older self lay crumpled on the sidewalk while he remained trapped in his mind, hands tearing into the soft material of his shirt.

Yuhwa bit back the cry that bubbled from the back of his throat, cursing at himself for being weak. The hot breath of the dog’s teeth sank into his ankle, while the other dogs kept on the onslaught of snapping jaws, nipping at the exposed flesh until he blistered with pain.

His lips trembled. “Go away!” Please! Go away! I’m hungry! I can’t—A quiet sob slipped past the child’s mouth without meaning to, followed by choked whimpers as the dog latched onto his ankle and dragged him further into the alleyway, far from the protection the dumpster provided him.

The pack of dogs circled his trembling frame, their maws gaping as they tore into tender flesh, leaving behind physiological scars that Yuhwa doubted he’d ever recover from.

A larger canine towered over his malnourished frame, jaw unhinged to tear into bloodied flesh, allowing drool to dribble onto Yuhwa with sickening plops. He flinched at the noise, hands reaching to clamp over his ears, hoping it’d block out the sounds of snarling dogs.

He couldn’t run. If he ran, they’d chase him until his lungs screamed for air. Until his small legs trembled, unable to keep himself up as he tumbled, bruising the tender flesh as he was circled once more. He couldn’t get away.

He winced at the globs of drool slicking his long dark chestnut hair as his breathing came in quick gasps, allowing the pounding of his head to take over. He felt it throb in time with his heart, the notion feeling wrong. So so wrong. Make it stop! He needed—He wanted it to stop. The pinkette curled into himself, lips parted to take in shuddering breaths as the massive beast snarled, teeth sinking into his forearm drawing a cry from his lips.

He flinched, noting something wrapped loosely around his frame, barely making out the voices that flooded his mind, pooling with concern. His eyebrows furrowed, noting his surroundings that bled, blurring together until he couldn’t make out much anymore. What? What’s happening? Who—He peered up through thick eyelashes at where he assumed the massive beast still stood, only to peer into bright azure-colored hues.

“—Hwa!”

“Don’t … rational … panic.” A second voice chimed in, unable to make out what was being said. His ears rang loudly drawing an annoyed whine from his chapped lips. He could feel himself slowly coming too, blinking several times to realize his mask was discarded, having been tossed onto the desk in the twins' haste to get the pinkette out of the public’s view and into the safety of his office.

He blinked several times, unable to clear his vision that pooled with crystallized tears, sliding down his cheeks to collect around his chin. Wh, Where? He didn’t remember getting here? He was … he was? I was outside—

The hushed voices returned, drawing the male out of his thoughts. “M, Mason?” His voice was hoarse.

“Hey, there pipsqueak. You’re safe now, alright? Nothin’ gonna hurt you, pinkie. You gonna come back to us?” Mason rumbled out soothingly, pulling the pinkette closer to his arm, only now realizing they were tucked away behind his desk. The raven-haired male carded his fingers through Yuhwa’s locks while the other slowly came to while Aoi remained crouched, rubbing soothing circles against Yuhwa’s kneecap.

“M’fine,” Yuhwa muttered sluggishly. His fingers reached to curl around Mason’s wrist, his thumb pressed against his pulse point to feel the steady rhyme of his heart, pulling the male further out of his mind. His tone does nothing to convenience the two before him. Mason let out a snort, shaking his head.

“Don’t lie to yourself, dumbass.” He huffed. “You and I both know you're not fine.” He grumbled. Aoi hummed in agreement, settling back onto the pads of his feet while Mason shuffled to card a hand through his raven-hued locks.

Yuhwa grumbled, sinking into Mason’s embrace still not all there, but he was better than earlier. He offered Aoi a weak-filled grin, knees tucked close to his chest as he cradled his injured forearm, noting the splotches of blood multiplying. He sighed. I was hoping I’d be able to ignore it. He wondered if he could still ignore it. All it took was wrapping some clean bandages around it and claiming he’d gone to the medics. He was sure they’d believe it unless Aoi asked to see the burnt flesh … which Yuhwa was surely fucked then.

Some leader I am. He bit back a huff. His mind was still groggy as ghost pains fluttered across milky white skin, reminding him of things he’d wish to forget. He felt horrible. Impossibly weaker than ever.

Sensing Yuhwa’s turmoil, Aoi poked the other with his index finger. “We’ll be heading to Sinikka’s to get some more bandages and some anti-biotic cream for your burn.” He glanced up at Mason who frowned, seemingly unwilling to let the pinkette go. “Would you like one of us to stay?”

Stay? Did he want that? No. He shooed the two towards the door, shaking his head. “Go. I’ll be fine for a while.” I think. “No need to bother Sin for—”

“Yuhwa.” Mason’s tone left no room for argument, shutting up the pinkette with a puff of his cheeks. “We’ll meet back at the tournament, alright? Aoi will re-bandage your arm, but so fucking help me if you don’t get it checked out after we leave I’m revoking your plant privileges.”

Yuhwa gasped, staring at the taller male with a hurtful expression. “I–No! You can’t do that! I still need to get—” He shrieked. Mason held up a hand to silence the other.

“Then go get it looked at.” He rumbled. Yuwha trilled in annoyance, lips puckered in a childish pout. You can’t revoke me from buying more plants. He nodded after a while, watching the two slip out with a kiss on his temple and a promise to see each other again.

He shivered, already missing the heat the two provided as he slipped into the plush office chair, curling up with a wince. His trench coat had been tossed aside, leaving one to see most of his bruises and bloodied bandages. He sure looked like hell warmed over, not that the male cared all that much at the moment.

He really wished he had better luck, but it seems fate enjoyed watching him squirm and stumble through life. He winced, glancing at the scattered papers that were in untidy piles for later reviewing, mentioning plans for the future while others asked for more funding. His hands reached out to grab a stack of papers, ignoring the way his hands shook vigorously. His breath coming in shuddered gasps as he got to work skimming the pages.

thoughts speech​


♡coded by uxie♡
 
coded by natasha.
  • Just a clown- Roderick Halcyon

    LOCATION: The Stadium
    MENTIONS: Dicentra Dicentra Buu Buu

    Haha! It looked like Roderick’s passionate announcement had caught the attention of the few attendants that found themselves peppered all across the stadium, surely now their souls would be burning with the same fiery emotions that currently dominated the Black Rose’s second-in-command. What better way to initiate such “festivities” than with an almighty roar, every massive event had to start with a LOUD BANG after all. Shame however, ‘cause it’d seem that a familiar voice wasn’t fully in agreement with his showing of bravado.

    "Roderick! It's too early to say that! No one's even really here!"

    “Oh heeeey Ragna!”     Loudly replied Roderick, his voice booming yet again throughout the locale. “Cmon now, it’s never too early to fire yourself up! WOO!” The girl in question was Ragna Belphedora, a prominent member of the Black Rose’s special forces. Despite there being a certain disconnect between Roderick and the clan’s combat unit, the second-in-command had heard more than plenty of tales and murmurs of the girl’s efforts and achievements. To say it was impressive would be like calling the sun “kinda hot”, such a miniscule word just didn’t even come close to describing what she was capable of doing. And yet, the part that Roderick admired the most about her was how easy she was to approach. Unlike some of the other members from the special forces, Ragna was a blast to be around and he actively cheered her on whenever a deployment was near. Hell, he had even developed a title befitting someone with such a reputation: “Ragna the Bloodedge”. Corny and edgy, but damn he couldn’t help but use it from time to time.

    "Are you participating this year?" Asked Ragna, to which Roderick replied with a brief but boisterous laugh. “HA HA HA! Cmon now, if either of us took part I don’t think there would be much of any tournament for the crowds to enjoy! Naaah, this year I think I’ll just sit and watch, something in my bones is telling me this year’s fights will be remembered for a good while and I wanna have first row seats to enjoy them!” And just like that Roderick had somehow become even MORE pumped up, and he was this II close to erupting again, had he not been brought back down to earth by Ragna’s parting words: "A bit of an empty show for now, I think. I'm going to grab a coffee before we start. You're welcome to join. Otherwise I'll see you around later, handsome." Huh, she was right, he was handsome, but other than that there really weren’t that many people here yet. Surely he couldn’t start blowing off the biiiig fireworks before a bigger crowd had formed, such a climax needs to be saved for endings, not beginnings. For a brief moment he was ready to follow Ragna, as a piping hot sugary drink sounded great right about now, however he was stopped as an unknown male voice pulled his attention away:
    "What's up, man? Aren't you Roderick? The second in command for Black Rose?" Despite his ego being stroked in just the right way, Roderick’s curiosity for this dude’s identity was enough to keep him from immediately flexing both his body and name. He even leaned forward slightly, trying to get a proper read on the man’s face, as for some reason it seemed so…familiar. Ah whatever, just because he didn’t do it immediately doesn’t mean he wasn’t gonna, and so Roderick proceeded to flex: “You’re right my mysterious friend, you’re speaking to the one and only: Roderick Halcyon. Pleased to meet’cha!”

    "I heard you all the way from inside my booth. I'm guessing you're pretty excited for the tournament, huh?"     Oooh, a booth owner? Such a high mark of power must be the reason why this man’s appearance seemed recognizable, and yet Roderick’s brain simply couldn’t pinpoint it. “Haha, my bad bro! You know how times like these can be on-Oh wait give me a second- HEY RAGNA!” Roderick called out as he turned to face the departing girl, his volume was once again cranked to 1000. “I AM GONNA BE HANGING OUT HERE FOR A LITTLE BIT MORE, LET'S MEET UP LATEEEER!” He finished his assault on every living being’s ears before turning back to his new acquaintance. “So anyways, yeah I’ve been looking forward to the tournament since the last one ended! I always love watching both demons and humans from every single sector coming together for such events, gotta keep the ties between everyone tight y’know? We’re all in the same boat after all!” Roderick finally mustered a proper reply. “How about you broski, aren’t you excited too? This only comes once a year after all!”

    coded by natasha.
 

  • CODE BY SEROBLISS
    Airen O'Bechtel
    SERPENT'S KISS LEADER

    It took the room a while to adjust properly and for Lang Uage to finally announce the huge thing he was on that had needed her attention almost immediatly. Airen crossed her arms and cracked a brow at them. Did they break something?

    Subtle movements in the shadows caught her attention. A grin worked itself up to her lips. She restrained it, of course. A leader did not just smile because their sister-like friend had finally come to the rescue. Airen doubted anyone else had ever noticed how the dark parts of a corner shifted as if they anticipated Sofia Archer's arrival. Only a second later, the shadow demoness stood beside Airen, nodging her arm.

    Okay, no one said Airen couldn't change the rules and expectations. She failed to keep her composure and let a half smile take over. "You look deadly," she said, her sharp teeth showing. Sof's hair looked fresh, her skin too. She had been training?

    "You didn't miss much," she sighed and nodded to her spy. "Hurry up, Lang. I got places to be."

    On cue, the male began to talk. "The Feral Dragons and Eldritch Runners are going to have a major meeting tonight. Three big shots from the Dragons, and six of the best from the Runners. They will be meeting at the Central Sewer Plaza. Fifty to seventy Dragons and Thirty to Forty Runners."

    The Feral Dragons and Runners had been a nuisance to her nerve system and she'd done anything to finally burn them to ashes. Her sirenical eyes sharpened to slits. Several smokes errupted from the figures. Like an aura, displaying their feelings. Lang's seemed relaxed, the others rather riled. Riled up in excitement, in the lust for blood. Airen didn't blame them. Her own blood boiled by the sheer mention of the two groups.

    "That's a lot," she groaned and tapped a finger against her soft skin of her chin. What to do? There would be roughly a hundred of them in a big meeting. Which meant they had backup as well as an escaping route. They'd be easily spooked, like deers on a meadow when they hear a stick cracking. What if… "Lang. I shall lend you one of my special units, the Cobra Legion." The demons in the room turned their heads to her, multiple pairs of eyes settled on her.

    "I want you to catch those bastards, alive. Bring them back here. Whatever you do with the minions? Not my problem. Just bring me the heads of this operation."

    Airen didn't want to know where he had gotten the information from or what he did for it. But a chance to finally hook the string-pullers? She'd never miss that. But they'd be spooked if they saw her or Sofia. After all, those bitches knew their faces and would stop at nothing to avoid them. A headache announced itself, slowly tapping at the back of her head.

    The sirenical demon groaned. She had to send Lang, even if she wanted to throttle those bastards herself. Yet… what if Zirke had been one of them? He had been gone for days now. Had he planned this meeting? Would Lang capture her brother? She shook her head. He had promised her to stop and she had to simply believe him.

    Airen had her phone out in seconds, scanning the message Sof had sent before arrival. She grinned inwardly as her suspection of early morning training confirmed. But she skipped over it and called a certain captain. Nikos Derv picked up on the first ring. Apparently a lot of her staff had decided not to go to the tournament.

    "Nikos?" She said in her phone. A rough hmh? shot back at her. Such hoarse voice. "Did you just wake up?"

    "Airen,"     he groaned at the other end. "Please, isn't today a free day?"

    "It was, until now. We got some news in and I need you to collect your squad. Come here and help me a little Nik~,"     she halfway sung at the end. Nikos Derv had been her captain for her own legion ever since she started as a leader-trainee under Barackius' hands. The two of them became friends and that bastard had made it his own fate to always protect her. He did fail at some point but she never judged him for that. Now she had Sofia and Zirke and Nikos Derv.

    "A mission? And you pull your own legion out?" Airen could see how he started to grin in his phone. "We are blowing some shit up, aren't we?"

    "You can see it like that. Not literally but you get to have your fun."

    "Well? Are you gonna tell me or nah?"

    Airen hung up on him, already imagining his frustrated sigh. It had become a habit of hers to annoy the male. Her legion was called The Cobras. The most deadliest killers she had to offer. Their training had been long and hard. Once she stood alongside with them before becoming a leader. She trusted him, not with her life but perhaps with half of it. They'd have her back.

    The demoness pivoted to the door, sending a look over her shoulder at the leaned back spy of hers. Nikos was capable of doing this misson and she'd send him her orders later on. No way he'd remember them all when she would have communicated it verbally. But was Lang able to pull this off? Other than her Cobras, he could navigate just fine through the slums and their streets. A particular part of the city and territories that became a playground for gangs. Her back already hurted when she started to think about the countless reports of murder cases. Though they decreased lately.

    "Don't take this easy. Nikos Derv will assist you. When he tells you something, you listen. He ranks higher than you, Lang. Do not forget this," she warned him before she smiled at Sof. "Let's go, Soffie~ We need to make an appearance."

    They left the headquarters in the matter of seconds. Those guards who had to stay bowed and greeted them. Not on a forced way, more like they wanted to and enjoyed the sight of their leading duo. Whilst they walked over to the boat, Airen quickly typed Nikos what he had to do. The same she had told Lang earlier.

    The boat had been her owns. A black ship with golden Letters. They spelled "Pearly" capatalized. She got on, finally putting her phone aside. Her gaze searched for Soffie, the neutral mask slipped and merged to a softer expression.

    "How was training? I hope you didn't give Mich- Michell?" Airen stopped for a vest second. Michel? Michelle? Something with M. She waved it off. "Whatever your friend is called- I hope you didn't give him a hard time, Soffie~"

    If Airen could, she'd keep Sofia Archer by her side forever. She feared the moment when the heinous love fire would eat her, too, one day. Though she knew deep down that her friend, who became more of a sister at this point, she would never leave her. And she could defend herself if any male tried something funny.
 
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Leo Teluvon, Ash Wolf Seer​


Anastasia’s response was more than a little alarming. She immediately gave him orders that pertained to clear prep of an operation. What the fuck was this? He hadn’t been warned of an operation. Did the boss think he was too unstable to be trusted with information? Was she suspecting of a mole? A mole…
Could Anastasia be suspecting a mole? It most definitely had been a thought that crossed his mind too, from time to time. Too often he’d just barely have enough time to warn the others as they almost stumbled into yet another ambush. Didn’t matter how tight their opsec was, the demons were aware. He often thought that maybe they had a seer, like him, but that didn’t make sense. His power had come at a grave cost, and the demons would not do that sort of thing to one of their own.

If someone was a traitor, who could it be? Idris was a purebred zealot, the kind that made even Leo slightly apprehensive. He’d sooner set himself alight than entertain the notion of talking to demons. Anastasia was much the same. Ves didn’t have the guts for it, even if he wanted to. He liked Ves, but the man’s resolve was…lacking.
Rick. If it was anyone, it was probably Rick, he concluded. Fucking rude bastard. Should’ve riddled him with shells first chance he got. Watch the blood pour from his broken flesh, feel the echoes of his very being channeled into the glorious cacophony. Let the grinding of metal and the screeching of motion devour the simpleton, and let-

Leo slapped himself awake, forcing the vision to an abrupt halt and blinking away the string of numbers that had materialized before his eyes. Fuck, this was getting worse. He needed to go talk to Nova, as soon as possible. He checked his PDA to see her answer, and was surprised to find it was a public place. 'Sure, let’s make an illicit deal in plain sight. why not?' He sighed, not quite having the energy to argue with her. 'Sure thing. They better have good milkshakes, though, or there’ll be a reckoning.'

He concentrated once more on his vision, blinking away another horrible set of numbers that he wished desperately he had time to properly decipher. And once again, his consciousness left his body, entering the stadium and beginning to scan the area far more thoroughly. He saw the balance of demonic and human forms, the clan markings on the demons. There were a few discrepancies-the higher percentage of Bloody Moon members spread out in strategic locations all around the stadium, the overall potency and strength of many of the true forms of those present-this was going to be a messy affair, if they were to try to engage.

He jaunted back into his body, trying to ignore the worsening movements in his periphery. A report was compiled quickly with his findings, forwarded to Anastasia after cross-examining with the radio chatter. After a moment’s thought, he added the following addendum: If operation is intended to be loud, I request that the Albatross is requisitioned from HQ. Due to the nature of my initial mission, It was left behind. Will update with findings on rally point soon.
Soon did not quite convey the agonizing visions that had come about after prolonged use of his power, but it was better if his boss wasn’t aware of how bad things had gotten.

He moved quickly through the streets, feeling his migraine get worse by the minute while he struggled to fight through the visions. He was getting more than a few odd looks now as he stumbled quickly, paying no attention to his surroundings. He must’ve arrived first, because when he looked around, his fellow Ash Wolf was nowhere to be found. It’s fine. She can’t be late, right? She’d be here any moment now. Any-

YOU MUST RECTIFY THE ERROR

No, no, no, no! It was too soon for that! The chorus of voices suddenly increased by several octaves. He cast his eyes downwards, not daring to look towards the figure that had appeared before him.

IT STANDS INCOMPLETE. YOU MUST RECTIFY THE ERROR.

Leo whimpered, putting his hands on his face, his body crumbling onto a step. He felt his heart pump loud enough to almost burst out of his chest, blood trickling down from his nose and the corners of his mouth. When it got very, very bad, it appeared. A horrible avatar of corrupted metal. Just like him. Just like him, the same accursed thing, demanding he make sense of this nightmare. It was one of the most common recurring ones. It was also one of the worst, as it’s presence was overwhelming, causing his head to feel like it was in a cast iron vice, and his tainted blood to spill out onto the earth.


In a minute, it was over, but Leo didn’t dare get up, remaining where he was, trying and failing to collect himself and stand up again.

606 606 Nothingness Nothingness
 














  • .scroll












    Living On
    — [Clover] by O3RO








    mood
    Relaxed


    outfit
    Ref.


    interactions
    N/A


    mentions
    Servant Servant Buu Buu Dicentra Dicentra











    Avaddon De' Angulis


    ― "To be the best, you must be able to handle the worst."




    The walk to the stadium was mostly uneventful, nothing seemed out of the ordinary from what he could see, however, if there was an intruder in the midst of the city that had been able to get passed the guards and security measures at the entrance of the city, then it was no doubt that they were experienced enough in infiltration that they could most likely blend in with the civilians with ease. That could be problematic.
    Eventually, Avaddon would've finally arriving at his destination, rather than take the front entrance as everyone else had been taking, he made his way to one of the side exclusive entrances meant for vip and staff only. The entrance was nothing special, just an ordinary metal door with two heavily armed demonic guards standing side by side against it. The two men did not address Avaddon other than giving a salute while the male only responded with a stern nod before entering the building.

    Mere seconds after opening the door and stepping foot into the interior of the stadium, the walls shook and masculine voice echoed down each and every one of the corridors. The voice boomed with such intensity, those who did not know the source of it would easily mistaken it for whoever it was to have gotten hold of the intercom systems to use as a way to amplify their voice. Avaddon on the other hand was not one to misinterpret this however, knowing well enough the voice came from none other than his Second-In-Command; Roderick Halcyon. Truly, the man was a character, even Avaddon at times wasn't exactly sure how or why he selected this man out of every other possible candidate as his Second; even so though, Roderick was definitely loyal, if there was something that needed to be done and Avaddon had given the order, even if he might disagree with it and argue back depending on what it was, he was still loyal to the clan and to the people and that counted for alot to Avaddon.

    From the sounds of it, Roderick had been speaking to what sounded like Ragna, a member of the Black Rose Special Forces and not to mention, one of the most talented as well. Though, the sound of her name alone was quick to change the male's expression from its stern one to that of a rather awkward concerned smile. He couldn't get over the fact that for several times now, he had met her at the bar he had worked at as his disguise, and without fail, each evening she would go off on a tangent about her day, whether it was bad or good. The fact that she had technically worked for him to a sense and been a member of the Special Forces and she couldn't tell that it was him under the disguise made it rather humorous. Surely, he would end up eventually revealing his identity to her one of these days, but until then, he'd just comfort the demoness how he could, even if that just meant a stiff drink and lending an ear to listen. Everyone needed a break now and again, how they decided to use their free time was completely up to them.

    Wandering down the long halls and reaching up to the stands after minutes of walking, Avaddon headed for the vip booth that was meant for the leaders and their seconds. On the way there, he had gazed down towards the large open area down below where the ring would be for the contestants to battle only to find three specific individuals. One had been Roderick who had appeared to be speaking with another male, who with closer examining had appeared to have been Clancy, the leader of the Bloody Moon clan, what was he doing here so early for. The third was none other than Ragna, appearing as though she was heading off towards one of the surrounding shops within the stadium. With a mental nod that Avaddon was not alone here, it gave him a slight bit of comfort to know that if anything were to occur, some of the most well versed fighters were here.
    Meanwhile, just as Avaddon had reached the final corner to turn before reaching the entrance to the vip booth, two women had ended up sprinting away from the direction he had been headed towards. With a raised brow at the sight of the women as they rushed passed Avaddon without so much as a word to him, the male would turn to watch as they ran off only to catch the slightest scent of what seemed to had been sweat and other strange bodily fluids. Standing there with a confused expression across his face, he immediately proceeded the rest of the way to finally enter the booth only to have the same scent of mixed bodily fluids rush into his nostrils. Quickly pinching his nose, he cursed under his breath before slamming the switch on the wall next to the door only to have the shades lifted followed by the darkening screen over the window roll back upwards.

    With his emerald gaze shifting across the large room, the scent and sight of mess that had been created was easily traced over towards none other than Clancy's seat as Avaddon's left eye twitched with a growing intensity of anger. "Really..? Here? Of all the places...you picked...HERE?!" Shouting within the room obviously wasn't going to get anyone's attention but the sheer fact that Clancy had brought with him a couple of random women into the leader's booth to have his own fun was just a different level of disrespectful. Making his way over towards the right side of the room, Avaddon approached a small shelf that had several planting pots that had nothing but soil within them. Digging his fingers into the soil, mere seconds passed as a small purple flower began to grow from the pot before its petals began to bloom outwards. Moments went by and before long, the multiple bodily scents that filled the room began to fade as the purple flowers began to close their petals and wilt straight after.
    After the room had returned to its normal smell once more, a sudden chime followed by vibration rang within his pocket as he retrieved the device that had made the noise. It was his phone, there had been a notification from Melania, something about the 'dogs' being let out. Taking moments to process the information, it wasn't long before he realized it meant that the Ash Wolves had been within the city. With widened eyes, Avaddon rushed over towards the glass wall to stare down towards the center of the stadium where Clancy and Roderick were still located. With this information, he was tempted to call for a termination of the event, however, knowing well enough that questions would arise straight after and the possibility of the public finding out about an enemy being in the midst of their city might create more chaos. What was he to do now.






    coded by xayah.ღ

 
Ash Wolf
Idris Ignatius
The Holy Flame
Haven, En route to Stadium

The earpiece buzzed to life as Anastasia's voice reverberated through Idris's ear; the red haired wolf finding himself within the shadow of a nearby building, back pressed against the wall as crimson eyes continued to watch the hustle and bustle of Haven's citizens; many of whom were coming down from their 'pseudo-high' of watching that miniature skirmish; the pre-fight before the main events.

"Nothing of particular importance to report" began Idris, his tone monotone as he persisted with his task of observing the slowly dispersing crowd of spectators. Eyes devoid of any real passion towards the task at hand, rather he appeared to be more 'fed up' with the notion of having to persist with watching the scourge exist. "Just a minor brawl between two animals.." he added, pushing himself off of the wall and turning towards the general direction of where the Neutral Zone was located.

"Unless there are any specific orders, I will be making my way towards the Neutral zone. These savages appear to be even more riled up with the upcoming tournament. No doubt an opportunity to hunt will present itself amidst the confusion of the tournament" he stated bluntly as he mixed himself into a crowd of citizens also making their way to the neutral zone.

Mentions:Anastasia Nothingness Nothingness
Code by Serobliss
 
Sofia's Relief
Interacting with: JJae JJae (Airen and Zirke)​

Sofia’s gaze turned to her beloved leader and best friend as she greeted her with a smile. The shadow demoness gave Airen a wink and blew her a kiss in response, taking her place beside her and looking over the meeting room. One of the things she had to get used to when Airen made her second-in-command was the bureaucracy of it all. Simply put, Sofia Archer was not born to sit in at endless meetings listening to lots of monotone voices repeat the same points over and over again. She was so grateful for Airen and the way she was able to speed things up, especially at that moment. “Thank you, Sis, let’s get this over with.”

It was something quite dull if she was being honest. Something about dragons and runners? Oh, the gangs, yeah that sounded interesting. Sofia’s phone pinged in her bag with the signature keys ring she assigned to Zirke. Despite her outward cold appearance, the female’s mind felt at ease and something fluttered within her. One ping was enough for her to realize that Zirke had seen the picture she sent. Had she sent it with intention of getting a reaction out of him? Most definitely. Perhaps he’d have even kept the picture for himself. After all, Sofia’s outfit was purposefully provocative and she knew how easily her one-time lover buckled with those outfits of hers.

Despite her best efforts to listen to the explanation of the situation, a second ping from Zirke drew her hand into her bag to fetch the pesky device. As the screen lit up to display the new messages, Sofia’s lips curled into a slight grin.

Looking good! Make sure Airen wears a jacket… and long pants. Maybe mess her hair. I don't want to see her being approached by some fucker. :3

I bet you will be surprised to see me! Get ready haha

Both messages came through in their private chat, even though the picture was sent to the group chat. Of course, Zirke would avoid replying where Airen could see. Sofia wasn’t sure if he did that to keep the siren leader’s attention off of him or if he simply wanted an excuse to chat with her. Either way, the dark-haired female loved his attention far more than she’d ever admit to anyone. Looking good! That line brought back vivid memories of their past together. Was it the same thing he’d said to her that night? Sofia was sure it was. Whether she admitted it or not, Zirke always knew how to make her heart flutter.

Before she could type a response, Sofia heard Airen’s voice and immediately looked up to give her her undivided attention. It was always mesmerizing to Sofia how easily Airen commanded the room and gave orders. More than that, it never ceased to amaze her how easily she could get people to want to follow her orders. Airen O’Bechtel was many things, two of which being a natural-born leader and Sofia’s dearest friend. Her eyes scanned around the room as she saw how everyone moved and reacted in response to their leader’s commands. Within seconds, Airen had formed a plan and ordered all the pieces involved around to set them up on a pristine board that awaited her command to start moving. Sofia couldn’t help but grin at her best friend and give her an approving nod.

When Airen brought up her phone to make a call, Sofia pulled up her own phone to respond to Zirke’s messages. The shadow demoness bit her lip and smiled as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she began tapping the screen to type her reply.

I always look good ;) And trust me; if any man even attempts to approach her he won’t live to tell the tale

Oh? You better not get into trouble

She smiled at her phone, letting her fingers trail off to tap on Zirke’s profile picture to get a good look at it. After a second or two of staring, Sofia shut her device off and turned to Airen, who was just wrapping up her phone call with Nikos. With a grin on her face, the dark-haired female turned and took a few steps towards the door, leaning her shoulder on it while waiting for Airen to finish. As soon as Airen’s gaze met hers, Sofia pushed the door open and walked with her. “When we look as good as we do, everywhere we go we make an appearance, Sis. You look phenomenal.”

Their exit from headquarters was relatively quick as the two demonesses made their way toward Airen’s boat. Sofia couldn’t help but relish the reverence and respect their guards treated them with at every turn. They were all very good people, and people Sofia routinely enjoyed talking to whenever she got the chance. Her eyes scanned their surroundings while she kept pace with Airen, walking just a couple of steps behind her as was her habit from years of guarding her. Whenever the two stepped out in the open, Sofia’s demeanor turned to that of a protector and a cold-blooded killer. Everyone who wasn’t known to her caught daggers shot from her eyes as she expanded her shadow all around her to keep tabs on all who might approach them. The Serpent’s Kiss duo always cast a monstrous shadow.

As they approached the boat, Sofia extended her shadow into the boat, exploring every nook and cranny to ensure that nothing was out of the ordinary. It was fitting that Pearly was all black, which was a design choice Sofia had pushed Airen for nonstop when she acquired it. Once everything was deemed in order, the deadly duo stepped onto the boat, which quickly started moving off the dock and into the greater city.

Sofia sighed softly and her menacing expression was replaced by a soft grin as she leaned back against the side of the ship, looking out into the water. Her eyes met Airen’s and she laughed, covering her mouth a little. “Don’t remind me of Mike or I’ll feel bad. Poor guy… I definitely went a little too far with him.” She brought her hands up to grab her hair and drape it over her right shoulder as she spoke. “I just don’t get why we can’t participate. It’s so unfair…” Her hand unhooked the long, shiny chain wrapped around her waist as a makeshift belt. Attached to the end of the chain was a curved, deadly sharp blade. Sofia absent-mindedly spun the blade around at her side. Holding and manipulating her weapons helped her focus. “Enough about me, though. How is my favorite girl in the whole world? Still as shocked as I am that Earl and Emma broke up?”

No one in the whole world knew Sofia as Airen did. The closeness she had with Zirke was different and very deep, but there was something so special about the bond between the two demonesses that it was impossible to explain. To the rest of the world, Sofia was a mean-faced, cold-blooded killer whose sole purpose seemed to be to terrify and enforce Airen’s authority with brutal and calculated methods. Sofia was bubbly, romantic, happy-go-lucky with her best friend, and sometimes a little wild (Zirke also brought her wild side out). Simply put, if home was a person, it was Airen.
 

  • C H A R A C T E R S

    • Naomi Kuroda | Ravinca 2nd In-Comand
      • Interaction: Yuhwa
    • Silvester Pierce | Ash Wolf
      • Interacting with: Alarick
    • Melania Chrona | Ash Wolf Supplier & Black Rose Agent
      • Interacting with: Leo
 
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