Multiple Settings 𝗟𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗦 𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬.

[birth of venus]

LAZARUS CITY.

"Behold, the day of the LORD comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it."

- Isaiah 13:9

𝐘𝐑 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑
LCD SOUNDSYSTEM

Red and blue lights illuminate the scene of the bloodbath.

Through the floor to ceiling windows of a luxurious home, police cruiser lights flashed sharply between the two hues, and the blood staining the tile floor would disappear in the swath of red for just a moment - a respite for the weeping widow left behind, giving her a split second's grace before blue would flash and reveal the truth of the scene. And the truth was...puzzling. Horrible, disgusting, unsightly, so many nauseating words to describe the utter depravity of it all. But when one looked beyond the gore and viscera, it was simply a puzzle that needed solving.

What was once a woman laid bloodied and broken in the grand tub of the master bathroom. Red poured over the sides of the porcelain, soap bubbles and rose petals and blood flooding over the tile as the luxurious jets still ran. The seasoned detectives on the scene made the poor rookie cop step across the mess on the floor just to turn off the water function. Further strewn upon the floor was a broken bottle of champagne, half melted candles accidentally knocked out of their romantic placement alongside the tub's edge, and shreds of her hair that looked to have been ripped directly from her scalp.

They could find no signs of forced entry. There was an indication, of course, that the scene had meant to be a romantic night for two. Even more curious, the other half of the pair was nowhere to be found, but the detectives had a very strong idea of who it was. The house was that of Theodore Bettencourt, a well-known vampire politician who had been entrenched in more scandals than anything worth positive praise throughout his career. He was gone with the wind, and his wife had been the one to stumble upon the body when she arrived home from a girl's trip for the weekend.

The unfortunate reality of it all was that the torn up nobody that Donna Bettencourt found in her bathtub that fateful night would never be identified, but deeply missed by her own friends and family. In an effort to quickly cover up the crime, the influence and deep pockets of the Bettencourts made it that the only incident that occurred was simply a false alarm and no danger was present. Her bathroom was scrubbed clean, and there was no paper trail.

A headline appeared 48 hours later. MAYORAL CANDIDATE THEODORE "TEDDY" BETTENCOURT MYSTERIOUSLY FOUND DEAD IN WORK OFFICE.

His body emaciated, almost skeletal in appearance, a layer of dust that very well could have been his last breath. Bettencourt died in an obvious case of starvation, and as a result, the city shuddered. For they knew that no vampire would willingly starve themselves. And there was no explanation for his disappearance days before. The city whispered as news traveled far and wide, fingers were pointed as people theorized possible events that led up to the death.

The days stubbornly continued on, despite tensions in the city rising more and more. Streets that were once bustling with people were now quieter - people trekked mutedly to work, and others began to fear public transportation. To those who had just arrived or had no idea of what laid behind the surface, Lazarus seemed like any other bustling metropolis in its quieter months. It was truly a utopia once upon a time, something out of a dream almost. But the residents knew better, knew of the darkness that had slowly but surely taken over their once peaceful home.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[.empathogen.]

R U N E

clean is the one who walks opposite from him in the desert.

within the blood

the dark witch

I know you can't be tired.

bang bang bang bang

— sohodolls

mood: shitty
location: Eden> The Streets
interactions: Delilah

scroll

Bright lights strobed on his skin like the silken hands of a lover. As he leaned against the bar the motions moved around him, leaving him like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm. The soft, pleading voice wafted over their ears and made the atmosphere arctic. Rune had to make a decision and he had to make it fast. Word of mouth was slick but time was slicker. He had options though, so he wasn't trapped in a corner. As he moved to finish his Negroni he felt a familiar hand crawl onto his chest.

"Mr. Rune, what a joy it is to see your beautiful face again."

Rune's stomach churned at the source of its sound. Nearly 500 years of tax collectors would be a pleasure compared to this decrepit waste of vampiric "royalty" that just loved to loiter in Rune's establishment. The creep was handsome and with any other personality, Rune would have been smitten. But, all those hopes were dashed on the fact that the vampire was addicted to Polish--a version of Graveyard Dust with crystalline silica in it that is charged by a very powerful witch to have magic tuned to it. On it, people can trip for days and feel the magic pathways in everything. For vampires, it's a huge stimulant and they can even access some lost arts that only truly ancient ones know of. Rune made the mistake of giving his vampiric leach a dose of his own personal stash.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

"Alistar Wesley!" Rune replied, with a roll of his dark brown eyes. The lights rolled against his body, the clusters of jewlery in his hair twinkling on beat. "I thought you'd died. Hell, I wish you'd died so I could get some rest around here. Now," Rune said, pressing his lips against the vampire's ear, "What are you and your snakes doing slithering in my pit?" As if on cue, the rest of Wesley's crew appeared as if from thin air, flocked around the bar. Rune just shrugged it off and took another sip of his drink. The Garden of Eden was his club--well, partially. That didn't matter. He wasn't about to back down to the lowest of the low.

Wesley looked a bit hurt, but covered it quickly as Rune dissected him with his eyes.

"We serve as a warning," the vampire said, his timber easily outmatching the music that was playing. Rune sneered, his ringed fingers tightening on the cuff of his cup. "You know little on how you know too much. Let it be. Let the Fae girl fade from your memory. Do it and your last days will not come any sooner." Rune's eyes flickered with disgust. If Alistar Wesley was in the know of the girl's murder, the source of such a foul crime must've been low in terms of morality.

Rune said nothing as he waved them off but Wesley caught his arm. Using his other hand, he turned the witch's face to his own and puckered up with an audible "smooch" of his lips. Rune hissed and bit at the air, an inch from Wesley's face. Humored, the vampire chuckled, resigned from holding Rune's face, and then growled in a gutteral way. Within an instant, they were gone. He placed his cup facing down on the bartop and began wading through the swath of people in his cabaret-lounge. Girls giggled and touched while the boys lingered and stared lustfully. Rune pried himself away from the bodies and ended up at the main exit. He stepped outside, shoes hitting wet concrete. Turning to the bouncer with a flicker of a little sorrow, he simply said "I don't need you anymore." A portal opened up under the man's feet and hands began dragging him down to the depths of the Netherworld. A sharp scream was muffled by twisting of flesh and breaking of bones. But, that's what happens when you become expendable to the man you sold your soul to.

Walking toward Silver Crest Blvd., Rune took out his phone to send two text messages:

-Delilah :
The girl was seen in my club. And yours...and his.

-Unknown :
It's time for a reunion.
~

Rune then put his hands in his pockets and walked. It was gonna take some thinking through, but he was prepared to make a deal. Either way, the end result wasn't gonna be pretty--especially if he had to even talk to that silver skinned imp. But, times were hard. Pretty soon, they'd have to come up with a story for the authorities. As much as he hated to sqay it, Rune needed Aurelian's help. And he was gonna get it.

© reveriee

 

[thorspuddingcup]

Aurelian ​

The back office was filled with the cries of the man on the floor in front of Aurelian. Two burly security officers held out the mans arms so that he hung between them, his body only moving with each of his sobs.

"Please! I didn't do it, I swear!" The man pleaded. Aurelian stayed silent. He sat perched upon the ancient wooden desk that took up the majority of room, looking down at the man in front of him. Aurelian had never seen the gentleman in person before. He was human, wholly unimpressive in every way. Just as all humans were.

"Cheating isn't against my rules." Aurelian said as he hopped down from the desk. He knelt down in front of the man so that he was now at eye level. "But getting caught cheating is." He smiled cruelly at the human. From the pocket of his jacket he produced a small remote that powered on a wall mounted monitor. Aurelian wrapped his fingers around the mans jaw and forced him to look at the screen. Blurry black and white security footage played out in front of them. Footage in which the man could clearly be seen slipping cards in and out of inconspicuous pockets and into his playing hand. Confronted with his crime, the man sobbed harder.

Pathetic.

"You've broken my rules. What do you have to say for yourself?" Aurelian asked.

"I'm sorry! I swear I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"

"Now I can't let this go unpunished. What would it say about the Silver Flame if we just let cheaters go with a slap on the wrist? Well, nothing good." There was a sudden musty smell. Aurelian peeked down to see the man had urinated himself. Ugh, disgusting. He hadn't even truly threatened the man yet! If he was this afraid, then this was going to be an easy contract indeed.

"A little birdie told me you work in the government building downtown." That little birdie being Aurelian scouting potential unimportant staff members within the government complex to lure into the Flame just for this very purpose. "Now I would be willing to let you go unharmed if you agree to some side work for me."

The human shook his head. "I...I can't! I have a family! Please! I'll pay you! I'll pay you anything!"

"I don't need your money!" Aurelian snapped. The man was still crying. Fed up with the childish behavior, Aurelian pulled his palm back and slapped the human across the face with a resounding crack. "For the next five years, you bring me the documents I ask for from your place of employment, and I let you walk out of this building alive and back to those screaming maggots you call children. Do we have a deal?"

The man nodded. An easy target indeed.

"Good." Aurelian stood and walked to his desk. From a locked drawer he pulled out parchment, a fountain pen, and an enchanted ink well. While the man calmed down, Aurelian wrote up a contract to make with the man. It wasn't one of his traditional ones, since the man hadn't challenged him to a game. The idiot was, well, an idiot. Broke one of the few rules Aurelian had set up, and Aurelian decided to use that to his advantage. Blowing on the ink, Aurelian walked over to the human and took his gestured for one of the security officers to turn the mans hand to face Aurelian. The officer obliged, and Aurelian took the mental fountain pen and stabbed it into the human's meaty palm. Blood flowed up from the wound and into the well of the pen.

"Sign here, and our deal is done." Aurelian held the pen out. The guard's let their captive go, as he took the delicate pen with shaking hands and scribbled his name in his own blood. Aurelian smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Interactions: N/A
Location: The Silver Flame (Aurelian's Office)​

 

[erzulie]

scroll

delilah

the forbidden fruit

n/a

fit

It had been said that The Forbidden Fruit was as close to The Garden of Eden that one could get. Stepping inside transported those who entered into a lush landscape. It was truly a place of natural beauty in its entirety. The scent of flora that flowed through that place was aromatic in nature. The entrance was truly beautiful. There were numerous plants on display, with a counter in the center of it all. Different paths could be found, leading to different sections around the building. There was something off about the plants inside. Upon closer inspection one would realize that there were no normal plants in sight.

There saw a section of vibrant yellow Angel Trumpets. The flowers swayed slightly with the air that circulated through the building. For a moment they stood still, docile even. A figure breezed past them and they were suddenly straight. All at once the plants blew raspberries as the passerby, producing rather sticky substance before going still once again. It was a popular product meant for practical jokes.

In another section held a group of flowers that held the likeness to small fairies. They danced in midair, attached to the rest of the plant by a hat like stem. Protected by glass the flowers danced, blissfully unaware of the world around them. There were a variety of unique plants that resided in her shop. It was why people flocked to the establishment in search of the right plant for whatever occasion they needed it for.

The owner of the lovely establishment stood within a section of the shop that contained her...less than friendly plants. “Bitch!” her tone was a low growl as she stared at the flower she was attempting to collect. The pretty little plant had razor sharp teeth made for biting. The client was clearly sending this bouquet to an individual that they didn't like, if the Aconites that were being paired with them was anything to go by. It wasn’t really her business as long as they paid her. She bared her teeth at the vicious little flower, making sure to hold them correctly as they snapped at her.

The buzz of her phone caught her attention. With a snap of her fingers the device was in front of her, messages open for her to read. The cambion raised a brow at the message before her. She wasn’t too worried, all sorts of people appeared at her club after all. It wouldn’t be the first time someone who had visited died. Plus it had happened outside of her establishment.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[riddle .]

lucien hughes

warlock. curse specialist. power of decimation

mood

tired, hungover, anxious.

location

lucien's apartment, the forbidden fruit

outfit

click me!

interactions

Delilah erzulie

He's hugging his mother's side, her warmth leaking into him. His eyes are intently following her movements as she mixes each ingredient into the small cauldron. She's brewing a headache-soothing elixir. She's humming lowly, one of her soft hands coming to gently rest on the top of his head, petting. He looks up at her and she meets his eyes with a smile.

"Remember to stir counterclockwise after adding the willow bark, Luc. It's very important to know when and how to stir." His mother reminds him.

He nods, determined to remember. He can hear his sisters playing outside. They give out loud squeals of delight and he knows his father is home. He goes to leave but stops when he feels his mother snatching at his wrist and finds himself eye-to-eye with her. Her expression is wild and she speaks hoarsely as the seams of her skin start to rip apart.

"Remember what you did."

Lucien woke with a start, gasping and immediately gripping his head with his hands. It felt like he'd been hit by a semi-truck as he became more aware of the pounding in his skull. Blearily, he looked around, relieved to see that he at least made it home and didn't pass out in some random alley like a few times before. He passed out once in the hall in the complex next to the stairs. Nearly sent the elderly woman who lived at the beginning of the hall to her grave when she found him.

The warlock crumpled back down against his bed, sighing deeply. He took a moment to gather himself. He drew his bruised knees up and slung an arm over his eyes. Lucien forced the dream-turned-nightmare out of his mind. He hadn't had one of those in a bit. He blamed the city's recent upsets for it. It had everyone bothered.

With another heavy sigh, the warlock pushed himself up and out of bed. It was a challenge getting to the cramped bathroom across the way, but he managed. Tossing off his clothes that he hadn't even bothered changing out of from the night before and that smelled vaguely of liquor, he hopped in the shower. It was a quick ordeal. Doing the bare minimum was what his foggy brain would allow and he hated staying in longer than needed; hated the waste of water, especially on himself. After feeling adequately clean, Lucien left the warm spray of water, toweling himself dry, and wiped off the steam that fogged up the bathroom mirror, taking a good look at himself.

I look like shit, he thought bitterly. His face looked gaunt and pale. The dark bags around his eyes were more pronounced. He ran his fingertips over his collarbone, pressing sharply against it. Lucien stared a moment before trying to smile at his reflection. It looked warbled and extremely off-putting to even himself. He grimaced at the result, quickly turned away, and moved back into his bedroom to search his small dresser for something comfortable.

Once dressed, he made his way to his equally small kitchen. Half the appliances were run down and functioned like an asthmatic smoker, which was barely, but rent for a studio apartment in Free Field didn't get any better than what he could afford now, so he made do. Besides, people here didn't ask questions or poke their noses into places they didn't belong, like his business.

There's hardly anything edible, but he's not aiming to sate his growing hunger, instead reaching up to a high cabinet to grab two items in the very back, next to his journal. His cigarettes and his medicine man. His bread and butter. He used to keep the cigarette packs near his bedside, but after finding his cigs replaced with crayons thanks to Elijah's meddling, he started hiding them where the kid couldn't reach them. His other shit was always kept out of sight, though. Lucien dreaded the thought of Eli ever finding it.

His already dour mood plummeted further when he twisted off the cap to his painkillers. "Fuck."

Lucien slumped against the counter and stared in dismay at the 3 pills left in the container. How the hell had he gone through them that fast? He swore there had been more not even 2 days ago. His headache was returning full force, along with the familiar ache that forever plagued him. He could feel it in his bones and his body tensed, preparing for the twisting pain it had known for years.

A scratching came from the fire escape window, bringing him out of his rapid spiraling downfall of thoughts. Setting his things down, he walked over to the window to be greeted by two large slitted green eyes watching him unlock and lift the window, letting their black feline owner into the apartment. Lucien sat on the floor and brought Luna into his lap, holding her close as he bent down to bump their noses together.

"I'm really fucked now, Luna." He breathed against her fur. She blinked at him with a look that said you sure are.

She seemed to try and offer some comfort as she purred and rubbed herself against his chest, but his anxiety never slipped away. He needed those painkillers. Especially with everything going on, there was no way to know when he would need to use his power.

He had to go to Delilah. There was no getting around that. Gingerly, he moved Luna out of his lap and quickly scarfed down a granola bar he found. Brushed his teeth and changed into clothes better for going out. He swallowed down one of the remaining medicine mans as well, unable to deny himself from its pain free promise.

He summoned his phone from across the room where he dropped it last night, idly checking it while gathering his keys and cash. He placed a hand over his sternum where his dark crystalhead necklace lied, the one thing he never took off. He wondered where his tethered other half was, partly from concern and pure curiosity. The warlock wanted to see him. Maybe later, after he got his shit figured out.

Lucien took a moment to gather his thoughts before pushing through the door, leaving Luna and his safety behind him with a quick turn of the lock.

He was across town faster than usual to Willow Commons. Not many people out, less to avoid. Lucien frowned. He hadn't really looked all that much into the death that happened. People died all the time around him; what made this one so special that it had everyone shaking at shadows?

Lucien stopped outside the flower shop, eyeing the plants closest to him warily. He sincerely hoped this would be a quick in and out situation. He didn't think his head could handle a lengthy conversation. Gathering some courage, he entered and searched for the cambion fruitlessly before hearing snapping followed by a curse. He went toward the sound to find Delilah looking at her phone. Finally seeing her, his gaze hit the floor, shoulders slumped as he approached.

"Delilah." Lucien greeted lowly.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[fieldsofred]

The backroom of the bar had always smelt of cigarettes and burnt pizza pops as long as Scar had worked there. For the first time of weeks, Scar walked into the musty dusty room with her Ol' faithful. Ol 'faithful was a cane which was more like a metal pipe than anything, was at home nestled in the chaos that was the closet in the front entry way. She strolled in with only a slight limp. The prosthetic she had had since the attack had begun to put too much pressure on her patella. So, for the past six months she had taken shifts, been nicer to generate more tips, scrounging up all the money she's got for a new leg. It certainly wasn't easy, being nice for Scar is like riding a bike, except someone's trying to jam your wheel with a stick, and you're trying to avoid hitting kittens and puppies all while being on fire. So, not really, like riding a bike, much much harder. But Scar didn't care, because she got the money, got the appointment and got the leg. A brand new below the knee with an external sleeve with a ribbed knee suspension on a PTB socket. She was plain simple, and strong. Scar had noticed little issue with it, yet. And in fact, deep, down, far below, an itty-bitty part of her was excited to get up that morning.

"Fuckers, come and meet the new love of my life," Scar lifted up her pant leg proudly showcasing her new artificial limb.

"Well sonofabitch Scar, waddya do with Fiona?" Malini asked jovially. Malini was an older Indian woman; she didn't tolerate BS and didn't allow for any interpersonal drama on the staff to occur.

"Bitch was crushing what I had left of my knee, so meet the new love of my life Christine," The locker door creaked as Scar opened it quickly, throwing in her bag. She rummaged through it grabbing her employee card to scan in.

"Like the killer car?""Exactly like the killer car," Scar snapped and pointed, "Now tell me how's it doing out there," she gestured to the door to the bar with her nose.

"We're pretty packed tonight, there's some of those finance fuckers who are refusing to tip tonight," Malini leaned back in one of the plastic chairs so generously provided.

"Fucking grey suits," Grey suits was the unaffectionate nickname, for the jackasses who came in ordered a shit ton of cheap drinks and then didn't tip all while expecting the bartender to answer their every beck and call. Scar leaned over and scanned her card, clocking herself in.
"Your guys in a gang," Scar felt a shiver run down her back. Malini had connections, Malini was also incredibly smart and incredibly psychic. She had been helping Scar track down her attacker to little success, until now.

"Which, one?"
"Dunno, I listen to what I've got and he's in a gang," Malini shrugged.
"Mal, you're a sweetheart," Scar pressed a quick and wet kiss to Malini's cheek, "I'm gonna hit the floor, get Bryn off the bar,"
"You having a smoke later?"
"Nah, I quit,"
"Good for you kid,"

Scar nodded and pushed open the swinging door. Thrusting herself forward into the dark and noisy bar. There was no central lighting besides that bright strobing, flashing in time with the pounding music. Drunk twenty thirty somethings filled the floor. Scar crept behind the short and spindly Bryn.

"Get out of here kid," She grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him out of the way.
"Oh, thank gods Scarlett it's been killer," He sighed, not hesitating to pull off his apron and move out of the way.
"So, I've heard," Scar began tidying up the bar, and getting her space ready. Wiping up sticky remnants of split juice and syrups. Putting bottles in a very specific order for easy drink making. Bryn came over and leaned with his back against the bar.
"So did you hear?"
"'Bout what?" Scar said while taking a Grey Suit's order.
"The mayor candidate Bettencourt was found dead in his office,"
"This is the guy who cheated on his wife?" Scar poured and mixed the drink without thinking, measuring from muscle memory.
"Yes, well that's true, but the Vampire, Theodore Bettencourt, I mean really Scar do you not pay any attention to the news?"
"Slept in," Scar passed off the guys drink moving onto the next person without so much as a blink. "Bryn don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Right, yes, yes! Goodnight Scar!"
"Yeah, night, kid," Scar tossed over her shoulder.
She quickly got lost in the repetitive nature of serving drinks and people watching.

scarlett

code by birth of venus.

 

[draconicheart]

location
silver crest blvd.
interactions
n/a
jukebox
constant headache by joyce manor

emrys gwyn.

Light reflected off the puddles that littered the sidewalks and roads of Silver Crest Boulevard. Under the morning sky, car headlights, storefront windows, bars and restaurants alike saw their interior lights, proudly and bravely on display for the sparse daytime crowd, streaming out of the windows and pouring into the dips in the asphalt to provide the lonely vestiges of warmth in the overcast weather.

Emrys might actually enjoy view if she were not preoccupied at the moment.

If one were unfortunate enough to happen by one of the many backalleys that carve about Silver Crest, they may have found themselves disgraced with the faint sounds of a struggle echoing from the negative space between buildings. In the dark depths, just past the dumpster swimming with rotten stench, one might notice an unseemly splotch of blood against the rough brick siding to some shoddy bar. This splotch seemed to stretch at the very bottom, creating a trail that oozed off the wall and dipped onto the floor, sluggishly inching along the concrete floor until it led to a peculiar sight - two figures, one hunched over the other.

The other figure was splayed out on the ground, somewhere between conciousness and unconciousness. His feet would kick out undereath his assailant, uselessly scrambling for purchase. His arms attempted to flail about desperately as well, albeit restrained by the other's stance kneeling on his upper arms. Still, though, he desperately clawed at her upper arms, either attempting to push her away, pull her arms away, or retaliate. Not that it mattered.

The woman held his jaw in a vice-grip, lifting his neck up at an uncomfortable angle and wrenching his mouth open. Her other hand-

Emrys Gwyn snarled, mentally cursing at the situation she found herself in. Of-fucking-course her latest benefactor had a thing for collecting teeth, of all kinds of trophies. "I'll give you $5,000 to beat up this guy, but I need a souvenir." Next time, she'll just tell him to shove it.

This guy - probably a human, by how easily Emrys subdued him, and by how pathetic his attempts at wresting control from under her - once more scraped his nails against her black leather jacket as her fingers failed to grip onto his stupidly smooth teeth. She growls and pushes his head back roughly, releasing him and standing up. She steps away, wiping her fingers coated in his saliva on her jeans. The man rolls onto his side, gasping and crying.

Emrys reels back, and brings a boot down onto the side of his face.

The man coughs up a stream of blood, now staining the ground even farther, and with it, freshly loosened teeth - and shards of teeth - scatter about the asphalt. While the man sputters and groans, Emrys walks over and bends down, picking up the pieces of teeth. She deposits them into a clear plastic baggie that she slides into her pocket without a second thought. She approaches the man one last time; he's crying now, flat on his stomach. He appears to be attempting to weakly crawl away.

Emrys grabs the back of his dirtied dress shirt and wipes his bloody spit off of her hands with it.

She releases him, and he falls to the floor with a soft thump and a wince. She turns around, and her boots make heavy footfall as she walks to the mouth of the alleyway. She lets out a breath when she emerges into the cool day, the breeze picking up her dark hair and playing with it. She reaches into her coat and grabs her pack of cigarettes, flexing her bruised knuckles as her hand closes around the box. The sensation is familiar to her. Comforting, in a way.

She takes one out and rests it between her teeth, the soft filter unharmed under her maw. Not many have that sort of blessing. She clicks her lighter and it sputters to life. The end of her cigarette ashens and burns, a bit of ember falling onto the damp cement ground. Emrys takes a drag. The bitter taste coats her tongue.

Buisiness as usual.

coded by incandescent