-
This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Multiple Settings 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝑰𝑪
RosateNena
Twilight Princess
sox
محبت
son of nirriti
kiaan.
♡coded by uxie♡
Maverick.
say hi to your mother for me.
Mylo Garrick
tense — the beach — interactions: none/open — no tags
Mylo Garrick
mood: tense
location: the beach
interactions: none/open
tags: none
The waves were lapping the shore gently, and Mylo Garrick awoke to their whispers.
He didn't say anything back, and instead he flexed his fingers in the sand as he waited for his limbs to reintroduce themselves as they slowly regained feeling. They were already too heavy. He rolled over and pressed the side of his face into the sand, and he felt the grains shift against his skin as they caressed his cheek like a warm palm.
This is where Mylo had spent his summer. And even though his days were scarcely filled with anything besides crumbled notebook pages and the Deftones, he'd been dreading this day for months. While this had been the first summer he'd been able to spend outside of Los Angeles— and his childhood home— he hadn't changed from the old summer Mylo: he was still cold, and he was still inhaling nicotine and spitting out venom.
"My Own Summer (Shove It)"
Mylo furrowed his brow as he pulled himself into a sitting position, squinting at the sun as it reached down with fiery fingers and poked at his eyes. He glanced around, and he was glad to find that no one had been there to watch him wet the sand with his own drool as he slept. He reached up and wiped his face, wincing as his fingers brushed over a bruise on his cheek bone. He'd been neglecting to put ice on it.
Still surveying his surroundings, Mylo lowered his eyes to spot the sword at his side. He regarded it with disdain, biting his lip as he glared. There was nothing particular about the weapon— and that was the problem. It had been a gift from his grandfather, Ares, the Greek god of war. Mylo's mother had been the god's daughter, and because Mylo had never properly met her, that was about all he knew about her. Mylo's father had been vehement about his unwillingness to speak of his late wife, and if she had ever spoken to Mylo at some point before he'd been born, he couldn't remember her voice. As far as Mylo was concerned, her story ended as soon as his own had began.
And, because of what he'd been told and what he'd been able to deduce himself, it was his fault.
Every part of Mylo's heritage was a sore spot for him, and it was pretty clear that he wasn't regarded any kinder by his ancestors— or his immediate family, for that matter. The legacy knew that he had never achieved anything to earn their good graces, and the rejection of his father and grandfather was only something for Mylo to spit at. Unless, of course, he was alone in his bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, imagining a sky and searching for a place in the universe where he might fit.
It was only times such as those that it hurt. But Mylo had been hurt plenty of times before, and so he figured it really didn't matter that much.
He reached forward and grasped the hilt of the sword, and despite the fact that it had been soaking up the rays from the sun for at least a few hours now, the metal where his fingers brushed against it was cold. He held the weapon up to his face and studied the blade. He couldn't see his reflection in it, and for that he was glad. He wondered if the god who gifted the weapon to him really knew him at all. Perhaps Mylo was just another legacy; nothing to a god but a kid to throw a bone to before directing his attention to his more promising prospects. It was no secret that the other students knew that Mylo had received no powers and no real gifts, save for an ordinary sword. Mylo wouldn't admit it, but he was weak, even for a legacy.
He pulled himself to his feet and let the sword hang at his side. His eyes found the ocean and he let his gaze glide from the shore to the horizon. The sea was mellow today. Despite this, he often imagined the hungry, roaring waves that had battered him just before he had gotten his vision for the first time. He swirled his tongue around in his mouth, and he could almost taste the thick blood that had filled his throat the year before as he was drowning.
It shouldn't have bothered him that much. He had risen to the top of the red waves and pulled himself to shore. Blood, after all, was his birthright.
If Ares didn't know Mylo, he was sure that the god would've known his daughter. Demigods generally earned more attention. And even though Mylo had never learned of her abilities, he knew deep down that she must've been powerful. She would've been someone a god of war would be proud of. Perhaps she was even loved.
Mylo gripped his pathetic, ordinary sword tighter, and he wondered if Ares blamed him, too.
Soon, he would spot the ship on the horizon, and his heart would drop. He would have to make his way back to the campus eventually, and then his sophomore year would officially begin. Mylo wasn't one to shy away from danger. In fact, he seemed to have a habit of throwing himself into it.
But part of him doubted that he would even survive the year.
mood: tense
location: the beach
interactions: none/open
tags: none
The waves were lapping the shore gently, and Mylo Garrick awoke to their whispers.
He didn't say anything back, and instead he flexed his fingers in the sand as he waited for his limbs to reintroduce themselves as they slowly regained feeling. They were already too heavy. He rolled over and pressed the side of his face into the sand, and he felt the grains shift against his skin as they caressed his cheek like a warm palm.
This is where Mylo had spent his summer. And even though his days were scarcely filled with anything besides crumbled notebook pages and the Deftones, he'd been dreading this day for months. While this had been the first summer he'd been able to spend outside of Los Angeles— and his childhood home— he hadn't changed from the old summer Mylo: he was still cold, and he was still inhaling nicotine and spitting out venom.
"My Own Summer (Shove It)"
Mylo furrowed his brow as he pulled himself into a sitting position, squinting at the sun as it reached down with fiery fingers and poked at his eyes. He glanced around, and he was glad to find that no one had been there to watch him wet the sand with his own drool as he slept. He reached up and wiped his face, wincing as his fingers brushed over a bruise on his cheek bone. He'd been neglecting to put ice on it.
Still surveying his surroundings, Mylo lowered his eyes to spot the sword at his side. He regarded it with disdain, biting his lip as he glared. There was nothing particular about the weapon— and that was the problem. It had been a gift from his grandfather, Ares, the Greek god of war. Mylo's mother had been the god's daughter, and because Mylo had never properly met her, that was about all he knew about her. Mylo's father had been vehement about his unwillingness to speak of his late wife, and if she had ever spoken to Mylo at some point before he'd been born, he couldn't remember her voice. As far as Mylo was concerned, her story ended as soon as his own had began.
And, because of what he'd been told and what he'd been able to deduce himself, it was his fault.
Every part of Mylo's heritage was a sore spot for him, and it was pretty clear that he wasn't regarded any kinder by his ancestors— or his immediate family, for that matter. The legacy knew that he had never achieved anything to earn their good graces, and the rejection of his father and grandfather was only something for Mylo to spit at. Unless, of course, he was alone in his bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, imagining a sky and searching for a place in the universe where he might fit.
It was only times such as those that it hurt. But Mylo had been hurt plenty of times before, and so he figured it really didn't matter that much.
He reached forward and grasped the hilt of the sword, and despite the fact that it had been soaking up the rays from the sun for at least a few hours now, the metal where his fingers brushed against it was cold. He held the weapon up to his face and studied the blade. He couldn't see his reflection in it, and for that he was glad. He wondered if the god who gifted the weapon to him really knew him at all. Perhaps Mylo was just another legacy; nothing to a god but a kid to throw a bone to before directing his attention to his more promising prospects. It was no secret that the other students knew that Mylo had received no powers and no real gifts, save for an ordinary sword. Mylo wouldn't admit it, but he was weak, even for a legacy.
He pulled himself to his feet and let the sword hang at his side. His eyes found the ocean and he let his gaze glide from the shore to the horizon. The sea was mellow today. Despite this, he often imagined the hungry, roaring waves that had battered him just before he had gotten his vision for the first time. He swirled his tongue around in his mouth, and he could almost taste the thick blood that had filled his throat the year before as he was drowning.
It shouldn't have bothered him that much. He had risen to the top of the red waves and pulled himself to shore. Blood, after all, was his birthright.
If Ares didn't know Mylo, he was sure that the god would've known his daughter. Demigods generally earned more attention. And even though Mylo had never learned of her abilities, he knew deep down that she must've been powerful. She would've been someone a god of war would be proud of. Perhaps she was even loved.
Mylo gripped his pathetic, ordinary sword tighter, and he wondered if Ares blamed him, too.
Soon, he would spot the ship on the horizon, and his heart would drop. He would have to make his way back to the campus eventually, and then his sophomore year would officially begin. Mylo wasn't one to shy away from danger. In fact, he seemed to have a habit of throwing himself into it.
But part of him doubted that he would even survive the year.
Last edited:
cablebelly
well poised
antonina veyine
interactions:
RosateNena
Leia
location: aboard the dutchman
One more year.
The brisk sea air was in her face, ruffling her hair and kissing her cheeks. A moment of peace in the commute to campus, a moment for her to wrestle with her last feelings of leaving home, coming back to school, and knowing it would be the last time. On one hand, the idea of graduating from Mythos was a thought that was aching and sore. For three years she had worked hard to do well, get comfortable, and grow strong. Sooner or later, of course, she’d be thrust into the ‘real world’, or however real the world of demigods and legacies could truly be. There was a pretty good amount of work for a seer like her in the realm of magic, maybe even still on campus. She had little place in the life of mortals, and going home for the summer reminded her of that thought every time.
Mattias and Gustavo were almost seventeen now, the hooligans. And each time it hurt a little more to leave and know she would come back to them a good three inches taller. Her mother would always pack her way too many foods, assorted meats and cheeses from the deli, Italian chips and pastas to cook in her dorm, insisting she needed a taste of home. Her father, as always, pressed a deep kiss to her forehead and told her, Vola libera e forte, piccola colomba. Fly free and strong, little dove. She loved them with all her heart, and yet, each year, she felt like that little dove her father thought she was, trapped out at sea. Floating steadily away from the people that had raised her, as she was forced to keep more and more about her true self from them.
Nina’s grip on the railing tightened, and she looked out at the ocean. She’d seen visions of this year, in gritty bits and pieces. While at home, her visions were usually not as potent, but slivers of images she knew her mind did not conjure just for the sake of dreaming had come to her in the dark of night. This year was going to be a vivid one, and while she had not yet grasped the full extent of what was going to occur, something in her heart told her of dangers to come. A sudden bout of nausea struck her, and while she would have liked to blame it on sea sickness, she knew it was no such thing.
With a soft sigh, steeling herself against the uneasiness in her gut, Nina left her perch on the railing and began to weave through the crowds of people. Some knew her enough to give her a curt nod, others turned away, uneasy to meet her eyes. She was used to this, and it didn’t bother her much anymore. She greeted the crew kindly, never much phased by their undead stature, and mused about who she’d need to say hi to upon the ship. Mylo could probably use a friendly face, knowing the young man, but she had yet to spot his slouched posture among the crowds. Nina didn’t much enjoy areas filled with people like this, but knowing it was her last time coming to Mythos on this ship, she tried to soak in the chaos of it all, knowing the memory would later on bring her comfort.
In front of her, a small shuffle. Her head turned sharply just in time to watch a lithe figure stumble into her. Instinctively Nina’s hands reached out to steady the young woman, having not been much moved herself, and as she did, a soft smile of recognition crept upon her lips.
“Pal, Fiorellino?” Nina said with a small smirk, the Italian word for little flower rolling off her tongue with a doting tone. Leia would know it as her nickname for the young daughter of Demeter. “I’ll forgive you this time.” She was obviously teasing. “Good to see you, Leia. Was your summer good? I see you’re already feeling glad not to be a freshman.” Nina gave a nod in the direction of the freshman she had shoved towards the crew, who looked to be trying to hide a shiver of fear. Oh, freshman. They never got old.
fletcher lowes
interactions:
Maverick.
location: the beach near le dock
Campus without his friends sucked.
On the edge of the dock stood Fletcher, clutching the bag of holding to his chest. His fingers buzzed against it and his foot tapped at inhuman speeds. It was hard for him to stand still at any moment, but in this one, he was trying to contain his excitement. He wanted to see the Dutchman right as it rolled up, wave so hard his arm got sore, and then speed up the damn side of the hull to bear hug all of them. Even the absence of Thea for just one week had left him bored out of his mind, and no amount of laps around Mythos Academy had combatted it. For the very first time in his life, Fletcher was eager to start a year of school. Even though Mythos Academy didn’t really count as a normal school.
Mythos had been a crazy, insane, amazing and terrifying ride for Fletcher. Freshman year had been the greatest whirlwind-tornado-tsunami extravaganza he’d ever known. The overload of magic, lavish living conditions and lack of “you could possibly die next Tuesday if you don’t eat whatever this is out of the garbage” had rocked him to his core. He’d had ups, he’d had downs, but most importantly, he’d made it to another year.
He glanced at his hands as they flickered in and out of reality along the leather surface of the bag. The punishment charm placed on him by the school had not been easy to grapple with at first. The burning had been more intense than any pain he’d ever felt, and Fletcher had had his shit kicked in plenty of times. Trying to resist the urge to nick every shiny glimmer, to fight the feeling of being in a brain in a body that didn’t have much of a desire to do anything except grab. The shiny second floor of the infirmary had slapped him with the kind diagnosis of kleptomania. It was the first time he’d ever even known it was a mental problem. Though it sort of stung to hear, he supposed mania was right. It had just been a lot to adjust too. So much so that he’d resorted to the only thing that had ever really kept him safe. But hey, the punishment charm did its job. A good helping of pain was always a sure thing to keep someone from doing something they didn’t want to. And he was a willing victim. A big ol’ pavlovian dog.
Summer had been better, though. Summer had been really good. That job in town at the music store that Alina had gotten him? The most fun Fletcher had ever had actually working. The inability to steal? Actually very helpful aside from the searing pain when he occasionally slipped up. Althea staying on campus? He had actually touched the pool without major panic. He was serious about changing shit up. Sophomore year was gonna be his year. And what he eagerly held in his bag was going to be a testament to that. (Save for like, all the old stolen stuff. Yeah he wasn’t giving that back.)
In the brown leather sack was a safely tucked away gift for each of his friends, purchased with hard earned money. Not a single thing that Fletcher planned to give today was stolen, taken, or lifted in any manner of speaking. He had walked up to a cashier, handed them actual dollar bills, and left with the goddamn fucking receipt. He had kept all of them and was thinking of framing them or something. They weren't the most expensive or fancy gifts, at least in comparison to his once unlimited budget, but they were all something that Fletch had chosen with a lot of thought, and he was, well, giddy about it.
For Alina, a golden hair clip in the shape of the sun. For Mylo, a dinky but surprisingly flowy and easy-to-write-with pen with a bobbling chipmunk on the other end. For Kiaan, some really grody cologne that Fletcher hated but Kiaan would definitely love and spray everywhere probably. For Iseo, one of those tiny harmonicas on a necklace. For Ezra, a shark-tooth arrow head from a weird gift shop. For Philo, a bag of fancy sour candy and one of those jawbreaker necklaces. For Leia, little seedling bookmarks and a packet of “mystery” seeds that he had also found in a janky tourist shop. And for Althea, one of those hilariously large blankets made to look like a tortilla. And a razor scooter. They were gonna have fun on that one.
He also had a smattering of gag ‘gifts’ he planned to use on Lenn, including a whoopee cushion. The thought of finding some way to slip that on her brought a devilish smirk to his lips even alone. The prank war was not ending anytime soon, even with his inability to steal. Not on his watch.
So, Fletcher stood on the dock, vibrating excitedly with every inch of his being. He had a good feeling about this year. Leia was going to be his roommate, his friends were all coming back, he was gonna shower them with gifts because if they hadn’t realized by now, it was most definitely his love language, and things were looking up. So help him god, or, uh, Hermes or something, things were going to look up. He waited. He waited. He waited. The ship was so dang far in the distance. Uhg, the world moved so slow. But he could contain himself. He totally could. He wanted to be there big n' smiling when it rolled up.
So... far... away...
In a sudden gust of wind Fletcher couldn't contain his stillness any longer, and took off down the beach. Running by the beach was both terrible and fun at the same time. The air tasted like salt, but the sand got. Everywhere. Unfortunate for any soul who was in his way, though there was enough gaps between people waiting for their friends the beach for Fletch to avoid totally sandbombing someone. Except for... Oh! Mylo!
"MYLO!" Fletcher said gleefully, coming to a screeching halt in the sand, spraying it everywhere. "Dude, why aren't you on the dock? Well, I guess it is boring as hell. I couldn't wait any longer. The beach is so nice today! Ooh, did I get sand all over you? Uh..." Cringing slightly, Fletch leaned forward to attempt to dust the sand off of Mylo, touching his shoulder very gingerly and prepared to snap back if need be. "Sorry. Do you uh, want your gift now or later? Actually, since I got sand all over you.."
Fletcher shoved his hand into his bag of holding, rummaging around for a solid ten seconds before producing the pen. He handed it to Mylo with a smirk, the chipmunk on its end bobbling around. "For your moody journal entries." He dramatically sighed as if it was no big thing. "Thank me later."
interactions:
RosateNena
Leialocation: aboard the dutchman
One more year.
The brisk sea air was in her face, ruffling her hair and kissing her cheeks. A moment of peace in the commute to campus, a moment for her to wrestle with her last feelings of leaving home, coming back to school, and knowing it would be the last time. On one hand, the idea of graduating from Mythos was a thought that was aching and sore. For three years she had worked hard to do well, get comfortable, and grow strong. Sooner or later, of course, she’d be thrust into the ‘real world’, or however real the world of demigods and legacies could truly be. There was a pretty good amount of work for a seer like her in the realm of magic, maybe even still on campus. She had little place in the life of mortals, and going home for the summer reminded her of that thought every time.
Mattias and Gustavo were almost seventeen now, the hooligans. And each time it hurt a little more to leave and know she would come back to them a good three inches taller. Her mother would always pack her way too many foods, assorted meats and cheeses from the deli, Italian chips and pastas to cook in her dorm, insisting she needed a taste of home. Her father, as always, pressed a deep kiss to her forehead and told her, Vola libera e forte, piccola colomba. Fly free and strong, little dove. She loved them with all her heart, and yet, each year, she felt like that little dove her father thought she was, trapped out at sea. Floating steadily away from the people that had raised her, as she was forced to keep more and more about her true self from them.
Nina’s grip on the railing tightened, and she looked out at the ocean. She’d seen visions of this year, in gritty bits and pieces. While at home, her visions were usually not as potent, but slivers of images she knew her mind did not conjure just for the sake of dreaming had come to her in the dark of night. This year was going to be a vivid one, and while she had not yet grasped the full extent of what was going to occur, something in her heart told her of dangers to come. A sudden bout of nausea struck her, and while she would have liked to blame it on sea sickness, she knew it was no such thing.
With a soft sigh, steeling herself against the uneasiness in her gut, Nina left her perch on the railing and began to weave through the crowds of people. Some knew her enough to give her a curt nod, others turned away, uneasy to meet her eyes. She was used to this, and it didn’t bother her much anymore. She greeted the crew kindly, never much phased by their undead stature, and mused about who she’d need to say hi to upon the ship. Mylo could probably use a friendly face, knowing the young man, but she had yet to spot his slouched posture among the crowds. Nina didn’t much enjoy areas filled with people like this, but knowing it was her last time coming to Mythos on this ship, she tried to soak in the chaos of it all, knowing the memory would later on bring her comfort.
In front of her, a small shuffle. Her head turned sharply just in time to watch a lithe figure stumble into her. Instinctively Nina’s hands reached out to steady the young woman, having not been much moved herself, and as she did, a soft smile of recognition crept upon her lips.
“Pal, Fiorellino?” Nina said with a small smirk, the Italian word for little flower rolling off her tongue with a doting tone. Leia would know it as her nickname for the young daughter of Demeter. “I’ll forgive you this time.” She was obviously teasing. “Good to see you, Leia. Was your summer good? I see you’re already feeling glad not to be a freshman.” Nina gave a nod in the direction of the freshman she had shoved towards the crew, who looked to be trying to hide a shiver of fear. Oh, freshman. They never got old.
fletcher lowes
interactions:
Maverick.
location: the beach near le dock
Campus without his friends sucked.
On the edge of the dock stood Fletcher, clutching the bag of holding to his chest. His fingers buzzed against it and his foot tapped at inhuman speeds. It was hard for him to stand still at any moment, but in this one, he was trying to contain his excitement. He wanted to see the Dutchman right as it rolled up, wave so hard his arm got sore, and then speed up the damn side of the hull to bear hug all of them. Even the absence of Thea for just one week had left him bored out of his mind, and no amount of laps around Mythos Academy had combatted it. For the very first time in his life, Fletcher was eager to start a year of school. Even though Mythos Academy didn’t really count as a normal school.
Mythos had been a crazy, insane, amazing and terrifying ride for Fletcher. Freshman year had been the greatest whirlwind-tornado-tsunami extravaganza he’d ever known. The overload of magic, lavish living conditions and lack of “you could possibly die next Tuesday if you don’t eat whatever this is out of the garbage” had rocked him to his core. He’d had ups, he’d had downs, but most importantly, he’d made it to another year.
He glanced at his hands as they flickered in and out of reality along the leather surface of the bag. The punishment charm placed on him by the school had not been easy to grapple with at first. The burning had been more intense than any pain he’d ever felt, and Fletcher had had his shit kicked in plenty of times. Trying to resist the urge to nick every shiny glimmer, to fight the feeling of being in a brain in a body that didn’t have much of a desire to do anything except grab. The shiny second floor of the infirmary had slapped him with the kind diagnosis of kleptomania. It was the first time he’d ever even known it was a mental problem. Though it sort of stung to hear, he supposed mania was right. It had just been a lot to adjust too. So much so that he’d resorted to the only thing that had ever really kept him safe. But hey, the punishment charm did its job. A good helping of pain was always a sure thing to keep someone from doing something they didn’t want to. And he was a willing victim. A big ol’ pavlovian dog.
Summer had been better, though. Summer had been really good. That job in town at the music store that Alina had gotten him? The most fun Fletcher had ever had actually working. The inability to steal? Actually very helpful aside from the searing pain when he occasionally slipped up. Althea staying on campus? He had actually touched the pool without major panic. He was serious about changing shit up. Sophomore year was gonna be his year. And what he eagerly held in his bag was going to be a testament to that. (Save for like, all the old stolen stuff. Yeah he wasn’t giving that back.)
In the brown leather sack was a safely tucked away gift for each of his friends, purchased with hard earned money. Not a single thing that Fletcher planned to give today was stolen, taken, or lifted in any manner of speaking. He had walked up to a cashier, handed them actual dollar bills, and left with the goddamn fucking receipt. He had kept all of them and was thinking of framing them or something. They weren't the most expensive or fancy gifts, at least in comparison to his once unlimited budget, but they were all something that Fletch had chosen with a lot of thought, and he was, well, giddy about it.
For Alina, a golden hair clip in the shape of the sun. For Mylo, a dinky but surprisingly flowy and easy-to-write-with pen with a bobbling chipmunk on the other end. For Kiaan, some really grody cologne that Fletcher hated but Kiaan would definitely love and spray everywhere probably. For Iseo, one of those tiny harmonicas on a necklace. For Ezra, a shark-tooth arrow head from a weird gift shop. For Philo, a bag of fancy sour candy and one of those jawbreaker necklaces. For Leia, little seedling bookmarks and a packet of “mystery” seeds that he had also found in a janky tourist shop. And for Althea, one of those hilariously large blankets made to look like a tortilla. And a razor scooter. They were gonna have fun on that one.
He also had a smattering of gag ‘gifts’ he planned to use on Lenn, including a whoopee cushion. The thought of finding some way to slip that on her brought a devilish smirk to his lips even alone. The prank war was not ending anytime soon, even with his inability to steal. Not on his watch.
So, Fletcher stood on the dock, vibrating excitedly with every inch of his being. He had a good feeling about this year. Leia was going to be his roommate, his friends were all coming back, he was gonna shower them with gifts because if they hadn’t realized by now, it was most definitely his love language, and things were looking up. So help him god, or, uh, Hermes or something, things were going to look up. He waited. He waited. He waited. The ship was so dang far in the distance. Uhg, the world moved so slow. But he could contain himself. He totally could. He wanted to be there big n' smiling when it rolled up.
So... far... away...
In a sudden gust of wind Fletcher couldn't contain his stillness any longer, and took off down the beach. Running by the beach was both terrible and fun at the same time. The air tasted like salt, but the sand got. Everywhere. Unfortunate for any soul who was in his way, though there was enough gaps between people waiting for their friends the beach for Fletch to avoid totally sandbombing someone. Except for... Oh! Mylo!
"MYLO!" Fletcher said gleefully, coming to a screeching halt in the sand, spraying it everywhere. "Dude, why aren't you on the dock? Well, I guess it is boring as hell. I couldn't wait any longer. The beach is so nice today! Ooh, did I get sand all over you? Uh..." Cringing slightly, Fletch leaned forward to attempt to dust the sand off of Mylo, touching his shoulder very gingerly and prepared to snap back if need be. "Sorry. Do you uh, want your gift now or later? Actually, since I got sand all over you.."
Fletcher shoved his hand into his bag of holding, rummaging around for a solid ten seconds before producing the pen. He handed it to Mylo with a smirk, the chipmunk on its end bobbling around. "For your moody journal entries." He dramatically sighed as if it was no big thing. "Thank me later."
Last edited:
Squad141
The Purple Soul
Mazoku Hakomono
Freshman
Stating the truth was an important trait in human beings, even divine ones at best. However, if Mazoku was to tell a stranger that lived halfway across the globe about what had transpired in only a year of his life, if even he could, the truth simply wouldn't make the cut.
Sitting on a small bench on deck, Mazoku watched as the waves churned and frothed below, not peaceful, yet not violent and upturned. Sitting next to him was a school bag which he had brought with him, though looking around, may have been a poor decision. Flipping back through his months, Mazoku knew what he had done. After cancelling the honorable scholarship at the Heavens Door Academy of Art, Mazoku had fully dedicated his mind to his new goal: prepare to succeed at this new school. Thus, he had prepared for it as if he was preparing to head off to a special school. He had packed several pairs of clothes, essential hygienic supplies, a few enamel pins (a fun pastime of his), and of course the supernatural items he'd be needing, including the Hoki Naiden, a powerful journal and spellbook (simultaneously) from his divine ancestor that held all the secrets to his imperial magicks, the Seimei Star, an amulet that Mazoku now wore around his neck in honor of his grandfather up several generations, and finally, his own thick notebook, which he used to practice, study, and experiment with any and all magic he encountered through the Mythos path.
Surveying the area now, Mazoku knew he was out of his league. He had been preparing for Entrance Exams, while the others around wore armor, jewelry, and weapons as if entering a gladiatorial school (which may be the facts, for all he knew). He had initially been trying to converse with a few crewmates, who hadn't fazed him much. Back at home, Mazoku was a very big fan of Junji Ito, a master of body horror far beyond what the staff of the Flying Dutchman were the likes of. After a while, the deckhand that he had been discussing interests with had to leave to, well, run the ship, and now he found himself here, dreading a school that may value physical strength over psychological dexterity.
Sitting on a small bench on deck, Mazoku watched as the waves churned and frothed below, not peaceful, yet not violent and upturned. Sitting next to him was a school bag which he had brought with him, though looking around, may have been a poor decision. Flipping back through his months, Mazoku knew what he had done. After cancelling the honorable scholarship at the Heavens Door Academy of Art, Mazoku had fully dedicated his mind to his new goal: prepare to succeed at this new school. Thus, he had prepared for it as if he was preparing to head off to a special school. He had packed several pairs of clothes, essential hygienic supplies, a few enamel pins (a fun pastime of his), and of course the supernatural items he'd be needing, including the Hoki Naiden, a powerful journal and spellbook (simultaneously) from his divine ancestor that held all the secrets to his imperial magicks, the Seimei Star, an amulet that Mazoku now wore around his neck in honor of his grandfather up several generations, and finally, his own thick notebook, which he used to practice, study, and experiment with any and all magic he encountered through the Mythos path.
Surveying the area now, Mazoku knew he was out of his league. He had been preparing for Entrance Exams, while the others around wore armor, jewelry, and weapons as if entering a gladiatorial school (which may be the facts, for all he knew). He had initially been trying to converse with a few crewmates, who hadn't fazed him much. Back at home, Mazoku was a very big fan of Junji Ito, a master of body horror far beyond what the staff of the Flying Dutchman were the likes of. After a while, the deckhand that he had been discussing interests with had to leave to, well, run the ship, and now he found himself here, dreading a school that may value physical strength over psychological dexterity.
The Flying Dutchman
Nervous
Red Turtleneck Sweater with Kerchief, Ruffled Black Khakis
Interactions Open
coded by natasha.
mangomilk
big oof
coded by natasha.
thespectacularstorm
Mistress of the Elements
♡coded by uxie♡
[disclaimer:: swipe up on the mood/interactions stuff to see the contents]
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
♡coded by uxie♡
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
RosateNena
Twilight Princess
RosateNena
Twilight Princess
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Maverick.
say hi to your mother for me.
Mylo Garrick
Mood: weary
Location: Leon beach
Outfit
Interactions: Fletcher
cablebelly
Mylo heard his name in an echo. Since he had been staring at the sea, he squinted at the horizon, wondering for a moment if the waves had somehow raised their whispers into a shout.
Less than a second later, however, he was caught off guard by a sudden assault. Mylo had his hands up instantly, ready to defend himself with clenched fists. Instead, he found himself having to shield his eyes from a blanket of sand that had launched itself at him. He pawed at his face, shaking the grains from his cheeks and hair as he steadied himself from stumbling backwards. He muttered a string of curses, hissing as he lifted the hood of his jacket to empty some of the sand that was caught there.
Mylo knew it was Fletcher before he even looked up because, although the demigod was finally standing still, his mouth was moving at a million miles an hour. Mylo had met Fletcher the year before when they were both freshmen at the time. For whatever reason, Fletcher couldn’t seem to leave Mylo alone. And since the son of Hermes wasn’t someone Mylo could exactly catch, the legacy had no choice but to tolerate him. After a while, however, Fletcher seemed less like an annoying fly to Mylo and more like a buzzing fan someone might turn on at night to fall asleep— sometimes, it was just too quiet without him.
Mylo’s brain was still trying to catch up with Fletcher’s words. The demigod was quick, and surprise attacks such as these always left Mylo reeling, even for a guy who generally considered himself to be on his guard. The scare, along with the sand, made Mylo clench his jaw.
Fletcher was reaching out to flick some of the sand off Mylo’s shoulder, withdrawing quickly before the legacy had a chance to bat his hand away. A familiar fire began to singe the back of Mylo’s throat, and he retreated a step as he fished his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. With expert hands, he lit one and inhaled deeply. Sometimes breathing smoke helped to trick the flames into submission, and the pumping blood that reddened the man’s neck lost its interest and began moving elsewhere.
While Mylo was doing this, Fletcher had been rummaging around in his bag, and Mylo raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully as he exhaled. A cloud of smoke twirled it’s way from the side of his mouth as it melted into the breeze. Just like a magic trick, Fletcher produced a pen from his bag as soon as the veil of smoke lifted, and he presented it to Mylo.
The legacy paused, his cigarette halfway to his mouth, and studied the gift. It took him a moment to interpret the gesture, and upon realizing Fletcher’s intention, Mylo’s eyes flicked up to meet those of the demigod before him. Whereas Mylo’s eyes seemed to storm threateningly with heavy gray clouds, Fletcher’s always shone bright blue and green— like two halves to a whole planet. There always seemed to be a lot of life there.
Mylo lowered his cigarette and reached for the pen gingerly. He had been about to refute the moody journal entry comment, but he found that he was too busy trying to tame the smile that threatened the corner of his mouth when he saw the ridiculous chipmunk bobble back and forth on the end of the pen.
“Huh,” Mylo muttered in response, taking another moment to twist the pen between his fingers before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his hoodie. “I will… thank you later.”
He sighed and took another drag. He hadn’t decided whether he was going to show up at the dock or not. He wasn’t a fan of boats, and he was even less of a fan of crowds. Both reminded him of drowning.
Man overboard.
“You seem more insane than usual,” Mylo said, turning his attention back to Fletcher. He squinted at the other man through the sun, annoyed by the rays but too stubborn to put his hand up to shield his eyes. “Guess that means the ship’s on its way.”
Mylo could hear the weariness in his own voice, and he raised his cigarette to his lips to hide his grimace. He couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him so much. There were plenty of people he didn’t want to see on that ship, but he couldn’t pretend (well, maybe he could) that there weren’t some returning students he’d like to catch up with.
The start of a new school year meant missions. And unfortunately, class didn’t take place at the beach, and it wasn’t a solo activity. Returning to the school for Mylo meant stepping back into the ring, and although a guy like him should be rubbing his palms together in anticipation at the prospect, all he felt was heavy. Sometimes, there were moments when he was staring at a calm sea with sand in his hair and salt on his tongue, and his blood wasn’t at enough of a boil to melt his bones into something sharp enough to swing around. Right now, his skin was too warm for him to imagine it splitting, and there was no one around besides an idiot who was way too excited to give Mylo a stupid gift that he knew he’d done nothing to deserve.
Maybe it was because he had just woken up. Maybe that was why he felt so tired.
Mylo held his smoke between his lips and fished one out for Fletcher. Sharing his supply was the closest he could get to a gesture of camaraderie. He figured it was the least he could do. Didn't his dad have a saying about that?
“It’s the least I can do. And you know me, I always do the least I can do.”
Mylo had always thought that one was pretty funny. It was second only to: “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.”
Mylo offered the cigarette to Fletcher.
He tossed his head at the ocean, nodding vaguely at the ship that must be out there somewhere as it drew closer. “So, who are you waiting for?”
Mood: weary
Location: Leon beach
Outfit
Interactions: Fletcher
cablebelly
Mylo heard his name in an echo. Since he had been staring at the sea, he squinted at the horizon, wondering for a moment if the waves had somehow raised their whispers into a shout.
Less than a second later, however, he was caught off guard by a sudden assault. Mylo had his hands up instantly, ready to defend himself with clenched fists. Instead, he found himself having to shield his eyes from a blanket of sand that had launched itself at him. He pawed at his face, shaking the grains from his cheeks and hair as he steadied himself from stumbling backwards. He muttered a string of curses, hissing as he lifted the hood of his jacket to empty some of the sand that was caught there.
Mylo knew it was Fletcher before he even looked up because, although the demigod was finally standing still, his mouth was moving at a million miles an hour. Mylo had met Fletcher the year before when they were both freshmen at the time. For whatever reason, Fletcher couldn’t seem to leave Mylo alone. And since the son of Hermes wasn’t someone Mylo could exactly catch, the legacy had no choice but to tolerate him. After a while, however, Fletcher seemed less like an annoying fly to Mylo and more like a buzzing fan someone might turn on at night to fall asleep— sometimes, it was just too quiet without him.
Mylo’s brain was still trying to catch up with Fletcher’s words. The demigod was quick, and surprise attacks such as these always left Mylo reeling, even for a guy who generally considered himself to be on his guard. The scare, along with the sand, made Mylo clench his jaw.
Fletcher was reaching out to flick some of the sand off Mylo’s shoulder, withdrawing quickly before the legacy had a chance to bat his hand away. A familiar fire began to singe the back of Mylo’s throat, and he retreated a step as he fished his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. With expert hands, he lit one and inhaled deeply. Sometimes breathing smoke helped to trick the flames into submission, and the pumping blood that reddened the man’s neck lost its interest and began moving elsewhere.
While Mylo was doing this, Fletcher had been rummaging around in his bag, and Mylo raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully as he exhaled. A cloud of smoke twirled it’s way from the side of his mouth as it melted into the breeze. Just like a magic trick, Fletcher produced a pen from his bag as soon as the veil of smoke lifted, and he presented it to Mylo.
The legacy paused, his cigarette halfway to his mouth, and studied the gift. It took him a moment to interpret the gesture, and upon realizing Fletcher’s intention, Mylo’s eyes flicked up to meet those of the demigod before him. Whereas Mylo’s eyes seemed to storm threateningly with heavy gray clouds, Fletcher’s always shone bright blue and green— like two halves to a whole planet. There always seemed to be a lot of life there.
Mylo lowered his cigarette and reached for the pen gingerly. He had been about to refute the moody journal entry comment, but he found that he was too busy trying to tame the smile that threatened the corner of his mouth when he saw the ridiculous chipmunk bobble back and forth on the end of the pen.
“Huh,” Mylo muttered in response, taking another moment to twist the pen between his fingers before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his hoodie. “I will… thank you later.”
He sighed and took another drag. He hadn’t decided whether he was going to show up at the dock or not. He wasn’t a fan of boats, and he was even less of a fan of crowds. Both reminded him of drowning.
Man overboard.
“You seem more insane than usual,” Mylo said, turning his attention back to Fletcher. He squinted at the other man through the sun, annoyed by the rays but too stubborn to put his hand up to shield his eyes. “Guess that means the ship’s on its way.”
Mylo could hear the weariness in his own voice, and he raised his cigarette to his lips to hide his grimace. He couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him so much. There were plenty of people he didn’t want to see on that ship, but he couldn’t pretend (well, maybe he could) that there weren’t some returning students he’d like to catch up with.
The start of a new school year meant missions. And unfortunately, class didn’t take place at the beach, and it wasn’t a solo activity. Returning to the school for Mylo meant stepping back into the ring, and although a guy like him should be rubbing his palms together in anticipation at the prospect, all he felt was heavy. Sometimes, there were moments when he was staring at a calm sea with sand in his hair and salt on his tongue, and his blood wasn’t at enough of a boil to melt his bones into something sharp enough to swing around. Right now, his skin was too warm for him to imagine it splitting, and there was no one around besides an idiot who was way too excited to give Mylo a stupid gift that he knew he’d done nothing to deserve.
Maybe it was because he had just woken up. Maybe that was why he felt so tired.
Mylo held his smoke between his lips and fished one out for Fletcher. Sharing his supply was the closest he could get to a gesture of camaraderie. He figured it was the least he could do. Didn't his dad have a saying about that?
“It’s the least I can do. And you know me, I always do the least I can do.”
Mylo had always thought that one was pretty funny. It was second only to: “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.”
Mylo offered the cigarette to Fletcher.
He tossed his head at the ocean, nodding vaguely at the ship that must be out there somewhere as it drew closer. “So, who are you waiting for?”
Last edited:
Squad141
The Purple Soul
Mazoku Hakomono
Freshman
"What year are you at Mythos?"
The question may have seemed out of the blue, and Mazoku hoped he hadn't scared the man next to him, but being courteous was something he had learned was always a positive before, during, and after any school semester. His surprise companion was definitely older than himself, though that was most likely true for many others on the ship. The number of freshman to older-looking folk was smaller than he had hoped, and the other freshman (or those that appeared as such to Mazoku) had clumped together elsewhere. Perhaps conversation with someone with experience at the academy would help with a few of his anxieties.
"Sorry to be rude, I'm just curious about the curriculum at school. I don't know much about what classes to take or anything. How did you like it?"
Mazoku spoke with a facial expression that overpowered his attentive-ness with pure curiosity and interest. He truly hoped he wasn't being too intrusive.
The question may have seemed out of the blue, and Mazoku hoped he hadn't scared the man next to him, but being courteous was something he had learned was always a positive before, during, and after any school semester. His surprise companion was definitely older than himself, though that was most likely true for many others on the ship. The number of freshman to older-looking folk was smaller than he had hoped, and the other freshman (or those that appeared as such to Mazoku) had clumped together elsewhere. Perhaps conversation with someone with experience at the academy would help with a few of his anxieties.
"Sorry to be rude, I'm just curious about the curriculum at school. I don't know much about what classes to take or anything. How did you like it?"
Mazoku spoke with a facial expression that overpowered his attentive-ness with pure curiosity and interest. He truly hoped he wasn't being too intrusive.
coded by natasha.
cablebelly
well poised
antonina veyine
interactions:
RosateNena
Leia
fin
Oshea
location: aboard the dutchman
A gentle smile played on Antonina's lips as Leia immediately matched the playfully teasing energy. Nina quite liked the younger girl. A daughter of of such a well seated god, someone with the ability to give life to earth and flora, well, Leia radiated bountiful energy. It had to come with the lineage, and Leia showed it. The young girl had helped Nina cultivate many a plant for her own dorm room, and while Nina didn't have a godly green thumb, her partnership with Leia had helped her living space become wonderfully filled with plant life. Not to mention the two's bond in culinary club, swapping recipes and dishes. The one lovely thing about Mythos was the exposure to all sorts of cultures, and the ability to learn about things outside of her little Italian lifestyle. Leia's Brazillian-Japanese cooking did always stun Nina with its interesting mesh of flavors.
Nina uttered an impressed noise. "You're making me rethink my summer. I spent it on the beach, while you were saving the ecosystem? And you're barely even a sophomore!" She raised a hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint, the smile still growing. "I'm getting upstaged, I tell you. Upstaged all the time. Your class is just full of fire, isn't it? Oddio..." The Italian curse slipped from her lips easily as she continued the disbelief. It was true that Nina was impressed by the now sophomore class, Leia certainly being a good reason for it. They seemed rather teeming with unique abilities and the moxy required to use them, as well as a sure amount of volatile emotions. She thought of a few more fond faces to support that theory.
"That's quite impressive, really! I'd be curious to read any reports you've got, actually. Sounds like an interesting topic." Leia would know that Nina meant this whole heartedly. The senior was an avid reader, and after going through a solid amount of the Mythos library, she never minded a new avenue to explore that worked outside the stacks of books she'd checked out. "Especially so when I eventually get around to visiting, I'll know exactly which plants to glare at. Or, do something about. I'd know if I read your paper." She grinned.
As the topic of summer was turned upon her, Nina shrugged, but amicably so. "It was peaceful, really. Brought some friends to visit home with me, just spending time with them and my family. Good after the stress of junior year, and I missed home." Her eyes became wistful for a moment, reflecting on the quiet times on the beach, eating dinner with her family or messing around with her brothers. As she got lost in the memory of the summer, Nina was not keen enough to notice the shift in Leia's attention to a figure behind her, or the movement growing closer.
Luckily, all Oshea earned from dipping the coins over her eyes was a small startled jump. It could have been much worse, considering her usual keen eye for the future, but she'd been distracted enough by the rambling of her vacation and the endearing presence of Leia to not pay as much attention to her surroundings. Normally, such an ambush would probably grant the person an elbow in the gut, but the purring voice in her ear gave away his identity quick enough to save him from an instinctual attack. Even without it, she likely would have recognized the presence of Oshea, someone who she had lived with for the past two years and even brought home for the summer. "Oh, boy. Who ever could it be." Nina drawled, crossing her arms even as the gold coins remained over her eyes. "Smells like booze and seems entirely too cocky. What a mystery. Leia, were you in on this?"
It had been only a month since they had seen each other, but it felt like longer. Nina had invited Oshea and his mother to Italy to spend some time with her family, and it had gone over rather well. Her parents were happy to catch a glimpse of the college life that Nina seemed rather secretive about, and Oshea made a decent impression. As her last summer before being thrust into whatever the world looked like without school, and she was glad to spend it with her friends and family.
Nina spun nimbly within Oshea's reach and stared right up at him, now free from his blindfold, the side of her lip upturned in a smirk. "What a greeting. Already busy bullying the crew out of their money, are we?" Lightly she shoved him with both hands on his chest to create a little space between them and get some payback for the prank, though he'd know if she wanted, she had the strength to push him farther. "You're a menace," She puffed, and then turned back to Leia, jabbing a thumb in Oshea's direction. "So sorry about him, Leia. He's probably already wasted. See what I have to deal with?" Nina shot another look back at Oshea, eyes sparkling with both a glint of mischievousness and appreciation. Nice to see you too, they said.
fletcher lowes
interactions:
Maverick.
Mylo
location: the beach
In the moment where Mylo caught Fletcher's gaze, the quick footed young man tried to hold his place firm. Mylo always seemed to stare with a vengeance, and even if Fletcher knew he wasn't in danger of being pummeled, he really wasn't the best with maintained eye contact, under any circumstances. He fidgeted just slightly, but the glimpse of a teeny tiny smile on Mylo's face had one rising on his. Aha. Fletcher knew he'd like it. "Obviously you don't actually have to thank me but, yeah. Psh. It's a gift. Yeah, it doesn't need thanks." He said with a full grin now, watching Mylo tuck it away as he completely backtracked over his previous statement. Hell. Yes. Mylo was a man of few words, but Fletcher had buzzed around the fellow sophomore for long enough this year now to know that when he liked something, he went a little quieter than usual. "I knew you'd like it, of course, but if you don't... I have the receipt." Pause for dramatic effect. As great a pause as Fletcher could manage anyway, which was probably three whole seconds, but it felt like a very long time him. Then, he cleared his throat, and with a pomf, collapsed on his ass in the sand next to Mylo, staring out at the waves.
Him and the ocean? Not the best of friends. Well, it hadn't really started with the ocean, more like the Freeburn City Pool. That place fucking sucked. After getting his head held underwater one too many times by the giant eighth grade bullies until he could feel his lungs screaming, Fletcher had given up spending any moment of his summers in the cesspool of floating bandaids and chlorine pee water. His mom never really understood why he refused to go, but decided not to question it, seeing the amount of grief it gave her Fletchling. After that, he never learned to swim until Althea insisted upon it. His luck becoming friends with the daughter of a water dragon, really. Since those lessons with her, he’d been a bit better about it, even swimming a little bit with enough persuasion. Sometimes he liked to jeer that eventually he’d be able to run on water, and though he was a little too spooked to work at it, Fletcher felt like it was bound to happen eventually.
Mylo looked good on the beach, though. Brooding and silent, the classic cigarette poking out between his lips, the waves mirroring what Fletcher assumed to be the turmoil of whatever that guy was always thinking about. Fletcher's brain never stopped whirring, but the gears that seemed to grind in Mylo's head seemed less like a whir and more like a meat pulverizer. And Fletcher looked at the ocean that way. Big, depthy, crashing, swallowing. It wasn't any wonder Fletcher often found Mylo sulking on the beach.
"More insane then usual? Me? Hah, what?" Fletcher said, though his voice rose an octave. Shit, did he seem more insane? What did that mean? He didn't want to be all buzzy jumpy Fletch for the arrival of the Dutchman. He was insistent on proving this year that shit had changed, that he'd done work over the summer, that he was no longer an endlessly talking mouth. As Fletcher's brow pinched in thought over this assumption, he realized that his feet were both vibrating in the sand, itching to dash back over to the dock without his consent. Instantly his cheeks flushed. "Uh, haha. Okay maybe a bit. I'm just eager, yaknow! Kiaan's been gone, Alina's been gone, Philo's been gone, Ezra's been gone, Althea has been gone for like a week and that is enough for me, and I'm just ready to get back into the swing of things! I mean obviously I ain't a school nerd but. I like it when it's busy here. You know? More people, more bustle, more hustle! The works!"
It occurred to him as he blabbed that Mylo sounded a little tired. Perhaps his friend was anxious in a different sort of way. While Fletcher was eager for the second chance that was sophomore year, someone like Mylo who treated everything like a fight had to be feeling a little apprehensive. Tilting his head with a slight look of sympathy at Mylo, Fletcher opened his mouth to say something but was promptly quieted by the offering of a cigarette.
Fletcher, without asking for it to be lit, dropped it between his teeth and talked around it like a pirate. He'd been around plenty of second hand smoke in his youth, and for the most part, it didn't bother him, but unless Mylo insisted on lighting it, Fletcher seemed oddly content to hold it in his lips and not smoke the thing. Leaning on his hands behind him as they scrunched up fistfuls of sand, trying to get his body to stop fighting against sitting still. That was always a challenge, being next to Mylo, but Fletcher sometimes needed the task. "Oh, you know. All those people that I just blabbed about. I got gifts, n' I got receipts. Music store job actually paid pretty nice, and since I was bored as hell I worked a lot. Summer was good though. I liked the downtime. You know, it just gets a lil tiring. And then the whole time you feel like you're waiting for it to end, or waiting for school to start, and just... yeah, I was getting antsy. You know me, I get pretty antsy."
From his seat on the sand, Fletcher made a fist and gently pushed it Mylo's way. He was in no vicinity of hitting, but it seemed like if he were, it'd be the same as pushing Mylo playfully in the shoulder. Fletcher also made a little 'psh' sound for effect, so he'd understand exactly what was the point of making such a fist. "Don't be so glum-lookin, Mylo. I got a good feelin' about this year, seriously. I'm no future-seer but my speedy bones are sensing good things, okay?" The whole time, he spoke with the cigarette flapping up and down in his mouth. "C'mon, there's gotta be something you're lookin' forward to."
interactions:
RosateNena
Leia
fin
Oshealocation: aboard the dutchman
Nina uttered an impressed noise. "You're making me rethink my summer. I spent it on the beach, while you were saving the ecosystem? And you're barely even a sophomore!" She raised a hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint, the smile still growing. "I'm getting upstaged, I tell you. Upstaged all the time. Your class is just full of fire, isn't it? Oddio..." The Italian curse slipped from her lips easily as she continued the disbelief. It was true that Nina was impressed by the now sophomore class, Leia certainly being a good reason for it. They seemed rather teeming with unique abilities and the moxy required to use them, as well as a sure amount of volatile emotions. She thought of a few more fond faces to support that theory.
"That's quite impressive, really! I'd be curious to read any reports you've got, actually. Sounds like an interesting topic." Leia would know that Nina meant this whole heartedly. The senior was an avid reader, and after going through a solid amount of the Mythos library, she never minded a new avenue to explore that worked outside the stacks of books she'd checked out. "Especially so when I eventually get around to visiting, I'll know exactly which plants to glare at. Or, do something about. I'd know if I read your paper." She grinned.
As the topic of summer was turned upon her, Nina shrugged, but amicably so. "It was peaceful, really. Brought some friends to visit home with me, just spending time with them and my family. Good after the stress of junior year, and I missed home." Her eyes became wistful for a moment, reflecting on the quiet times on the beach, eating dinner with her family or messing around with her brothers. As she got lost in the memory of the summer, Nina was not keen enough to notice the shift in Leia's attention to a figure behind her, or the movement growing closer.
Luckily, all Oshea earned from dipping the coins over her eyes was a small startled jump. It could have been much worse, considering her usual keen eye for the future, but she'd been distracted enough by the rambling of her vacation and the endearing presence of Leia to not pay as much attention to her surroundings. Normally, such an ambush would probably grant the person an elbow in the gut, but the purring voice in her ear gave away his identity quick enough to save him from an instinctual attack. Even without it, she likely would have recognized the presence of Oshea, someone who she had lived with for the past two years and even brought home for the summer. "Oh, boy. Who ever could it be." Nina drawled, crossing her arms even as the gold coins remained over her eyes. "Smells like booze and seems entirely too cocky. What a mystery. Leia, were you in on this?"
It had been only a month since they had seen each other, but it felt like longer. Nina had invited Oshea and his mother to Italy to spend some time with her family, and it had gone over rather well. Her parents were happy to catch a glimpse of the college life that Nina seemed rather secretive about, and Oshea made a decent impression. As her last summer before being thrust into whatever the world looked like without school, and she was glad to spend it with her friends and family.
Nina spun nimbly within Oshea's reach and stared right up at him, now free from his blindfold, the side of her lip upturned in a smirk. "What a greeting. Already busy bullying the crew out of their money, are we?" Lightly she shoved him with both hands on his chest to create a little space between them and get some payback for the prank, though he'd know if she wanted, she had the strength to push him farther. "You're a menace," She puffed, and then turned back to Leia, jabbing a thumb in Oshea's direction. "So sorry about him, Leia. He's probably already wasted. See what I have to deal with?" Nina shot another look back at Oshea, eyes sparkling with both a glint of mischievousness and appreciation. Nice to see you too, they said.
fletcher lowes
interactions:
Maverick.
Mylolocation: the beach
Him and the ocean? Not the best of friends. Well, it hadn't really started with the ocean, more like the Freeburn City Pool. That place fucking sucked. After getting his head held underwater one too many times by the giant eighth grade bullies until he could feel his lungs screaming, Fletcher had given up spending any moment of his summers in the cesspool of floating bandaids and chlorine pee water. His mom never really understood why he refused to go, but decided not to question it, seeing the amount of grief it gave her Fletchling. After that, he never learned to swim until Althea insisted upon it. His luck becoming friends with the daughter of a water dragon, really. Since those lessons with her, he’d been a bit better about it, even swimming a little bit with enough persuasion. Sometimes he liked to jeer that eventually he’d be able to run on water, and though he was a little too spooked to work at it, Fletcher felt like it was bound to happen eventually.
Mylo looked good on the beach, though. Brooding and silent, the classic cigarette poking out between his lips, the waves mirroring what Fletcher assumed to be the turmoil of whatever that guy was always thinking about. Fletcher's brain never stopped whirring, but the gears that seemed to grind in Mylo's head seemed less like a whir and more like a meat pulverizer. And Fletcher looked at the ocean that way. Big, depthy, crashing, swallowing. It wasn't any wonder Fletcher often found Mylo sulking on the beach.
"More insane then usual? Me? Hah, what?" Fletcher said, though his voice rose an octave. Shit, did he seem more insane? What did that mean? He didn't want to be all buzzy jumpy Fletch for the arrival of the Dutchman. He was insistent on proving this year that shit had changed, that he'd done work over the summer, that he was no longer an endlessly talking mouth. As Fletcher's brow pinched in thought over this assumption, he realized that his feet were both vibrating in the sand, itching to dash back over to the dock without his consent. Instantly his cheeks flushed. "Uh, haha. Okay maybe a bit. I'm just eager, yaknow! Kiaan's been gone, Alina's been gone, Philo's been gone, Ezra's been gone, Althea has been gone for like a week and that is enough for me, and I'm just ready to get back into the swing of things! I mean obviously I ain't a school nerd but. I like it when it's busy here. You know? More people, more bustle, more hustle! The works!"
It occurred to him as he blabbed that Mylo sounded a little tired. Perhaps his friend was anxious in a different sort of way. While Fletcher was eager for the second chance that was sophomore year, someone like Mylo who treated everything like a fight had to be feeling a little apprehensive. Tilting his head with a slight look of sympathy at Mylo, Fletcher opened his mouth to say something but was promptly quieted by the offering of a cigarette.
Fletcher, without asking for it to be lit, dropped it between his teeth and talked around it like a pirate. He'd been around plenty of second hand smoke in his youth, and for the most part, it didn't bother him, but unless Mylo insisted on lighting it, Fletcher seemed oddly content to hold it in his lips and not smoke the thing. Leaning on his hands behind him as they scrunched up fistfuls of sand, trying to get his body to stop fighting against sitting still. That was always a challenge, being next to Mylo, but Fletcher sometimes needed the task. "Oh, you know. All those people that I just blabbed about. I got gifts, n' I got receipts. Music store job actually paid pretty nice, and since I was bored as hell I worked a lot. Summer was good though. I liked the downtime. You know, it just gets a lil tiring. And then the whole time you feel like you're waiting for it to end, or waiting for school to start, and just... yeah, I was getting antsy. You know me, I get pretty antsy."
From his seat on the sand, Fletcher made a fist and gently pushed it Mylo's way. He was in no vicinity of hitting, but it seemed like if he were, it'd be the same as pushing Mylo playfully in the shoulder. Fletcher also made a little 'psh' sound for effect, so he'd understand exactly what was the point of making such a fist. "Don't be so glum-lookin, Mylo. I got a good feelin' about this year, seriously. I'm no future-seer but my speedy bones are sensing good things, okay?" The whole time, he spoke with the cigarette flapping up and down in his mouth. "C'mon, there's gotta be something you're lookin' forward to."
sox
محبت
son of nirriti
kiaan.
♡coded by uxie♡
Last edited:
mangomilk
big oof
EZRA VELLUCCI
son of enyo
nine lives
Last edited:
RosateNena
Twilight Princess
Abendrot
修羅の花
Madeleine
code by Stardust Galaxy
Maverick.
say hi to your mother for me.
Mylo Garrick
Mood: Resentful
Location: Leon beach
Outfit
Interactions: Fletcher
cablebelly
While Fletcher was talking, Mylo lowered himself to sit beside the demigod. He pulled his knees to his chest and let his forearms rest on top of them. He had meant to light Fletcher’s cigarette, but there didn’t seem to be a need. The son of Hermes simply stuck it between his lips and kept on talking. Mylo thought he looked dumb, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the scene. It was actually kind of funny, and Mylo found himself having to fend off another smile. He ran his hand down his face slowly, letting his palm mold his features back into something a little harder. Something a little more solid.
“A receipt,” Mylo repeated, letting the thought settle in his mind. He knew Fletcher had been trying. And that was more than Mylo had ever done. “Nah, you keep it. You worked hard for it.”
He said the last part in a rush, letting the words fly away in a trail of smoke.
His cigarette dangled between his fingers, and he watched as it grew closer to smothering itself. A few specks of ash floated down to become lost in the sand.
Burn hot, burn out, and be buried.
Soon, he would just light another. And he wouldn’t think about this one anymore.
Mylo was weighing the differences between burial and cremation in the back of his mind, but he kept himself present enough to hear Fletcher. Listening to him was pretty easy, Mylo had figured out. There were rarely awkward silences— or any silences, for that matter— and Mylo never felt like he was required to actually say anything. Sometimes it was like sitting in an empty movie theatre. Fletcher told whatever stories came to his mind, and all Mylo had to do was sit back and forget whatever world he’d have to face once the curtains closed and he was forced to get moving again. When he was there, he didn’t have to map out all the exits, and the only light that came through was a relaxed glow. Sometimes it felt almost safe.
But sometimes, it was just annoying. And it fucking pissed him off.
None of the names Fletcher mentioned meant all that much to Mylo. He more or less knew who would be returning to campus today. He told himself that there was no one he wanted to see on the ship. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it almost felt like one. He’d spent all summer trying not to think about the people he’d have to see once the school year started again. He wasn’t always successful, and every once in a while he’d find himself missing Antonina or wondering if Ikenna and Oshea were still alive out there.
Who the fuck cares?
“I think you’re full of shit,” Mylo said, and his voice seemed to grate against his throat as he clenched his jaw. Sometimes it was like his teeth did all the talking. It was like that's how they sharpened themselves. Otherwise, they might get dull. “What the fuck do you know?”
He didn’t care if Fletcher was looking forward to the school year. Of course a demigod would be. Mylo figured it was easy for them. They had their special godly abilities. And Mylo, who had none, was expected to live up to them and put himself on par with people whose blood was thick with divinity. After his one year at Mythos and his entire life before it, he should be used to failing. He would never consciously admit that he struggled. He was sure that he was better than all of them.
But still, it’s hard to be a superhero when you don’t have any superpowers. Otherwise, all you can be is a victim or a villain. Mylo had figured this out long ago.
He squinted at the sun. He was finally starting to wake up now.
He glanced at the man sitting next to him, and he could almost hear the bees that must be rattling around beneath Fletcher’s skin. He never seemed to be able to stay completely still. Sometimes he looked like his insides were stinging, and Mylo wondered if there might be something nesting in there that he couldn't actually run away from. Right now, though, he looked like a puppy who was trying to keep from peeing himself out of excitement.
“Fuck off, Fletch,” Mylo muttered in dismissal, keeping his gaze on the waves as he took another drag. “I’ll see you later.”
Mood: Resentful
Location: Leon beach
Outfit
Interactions: Fletcher
cablebelly
While Fletcher was talking, Mylo lowered himself to sit beside the demigod. He pulled his knees to his chest and let his forearms rest on top of them. He had meant to light Fletcher’s cigarette, but there didn’t seem to be a need. The son of Hermes simply stuck it between his lips and kept on talking. Mylo thought he looked dumb, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the scene. It was actually kind of funny, and Mylo found himself having to fend off another smile. He ran his hand down his face slowly, letting his palm mold his features back into something a little harder. Something a little more solid.
“A receipt,” Mylo repeated, letting the thought settle in his mind. He knew Fletcher had been trying. And that was more than Mylo had ever done. “Nah, you keep it. You worked hard for it.”
He said the last part in a rush, letting the words fly away in a trail of smoke.
His cigarette dangled between his fingers, and he watched as it grew closer to smothering itself. A few specks of ash floated down to become lost in the sand.
Burn hot, burn out, and be buried.
Soon, he would just light another. And he wouldn’t think about this one anymore.
Mylo was weighing the differences between burial and cremation in the back of his mind, but he kept himself present enough to hear Fletcher. Listening to him was pretty easy, Mylo had figured out. There were rarely awkward silences— or any silences, for that matter— and Mylo never felt like he was required to actually say anything. Sometimes it was like sitting in an empty movie theatre. Fletcher told whatever stories came to his mind, and all Mylo had to do was sit back and forget whatever world he’d have to face once the curtains closed and he was forced to get moving again. When he was there, he didn’t have to map out all the exits, and the only light that came through was a relaxed glow. Sometimes it felt almost safe.
But sometimes, it was just annoying. And it fucking pissed him off.
None of the names Fletcher mentioned meant all that much to Mylo. He more or less knew who would be returning to campus today. He told himself that there was no one he wanted to see on the ship. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it almost felt like one. He’d spent all summer trying not to think about the people he’d have to see once the school year started again. He wasn’t always successful, and every once in a while he’d find himself missing Antonina or wondering if Ikenna and Oshea were still alive out there.
Who the fuck cares?
“I think you’re full of shit,” Mylo said, and his voice seemed to grate against his throat as he clenched his jaw. Sometimes it was like his teeth did all the talking. It was like that's how they sharpened themselves. Otherwise, they might get dull. “What the fuck do you know?”
He didn’t care if Fletcher was looking forward to the school year. Of course a demigod would be. Mylo figured it was easy for them. They had their special godly abilities. And Mylo, who had none, was expected to live up to them and put himself on par with people whose blood was thick with divinity. After his one year at Mythos and his entire life before it, he should be used to failing. He would never consciously admit that he struggled. He was sure that he was better than all of them.
But still, it’s hard to be a superhero when you don’t have any superpowers. Otherwise, all you can be is a victim or a villain. Mylo had figured this out long ago.
He squinted at the sun. He was finally starting to wake up now.
He glanced at the man sitting next to him, and he could almost hear the bees that must be rattling around beneath Fletcher’s skin. He never seemed to be able to stay completely still. Sometimes he looked like his insides were stinging, and Mylo wondered if there might be something nesting in there that he couldn't actually run away from. Right now, though, he looked like a puppy who was trying to keep from peeing himself out of excitement.
“Fuck off, Fletch,” Mylo muttered in dismissal, keeping his gaze on the waves as he took another drag. “I’ll see you later.”
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
♡coded by uxie♡
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Users who are viewing this thread
Similar threads
