Fantasy The Last Judgement

[JustAki]

HARUKA
​

Silence. Tension. That's what Haruka felt as she saw in the corners of her eyes when a white haired woman brushed shoulders with the terrifying man. 'His name is Grigori Salvador' inner said as Haruka look at the wall next to her, covering her face with her hair. 'Salvador Grigori, noted' Haruka thought as her usual bright eyes started to become darker and darker. One side of her lips curved up and she silently chuckled. 'I like the K.I that's been oozing off him'

"-Oy, My father would need some help. Help bring in the barricades, be a useful man" Haruka heard making her look at the person who said that. A child, that's what she saw. A child who have been forced to be a soldier in order to survive. A man with a dark aura, -the man who talked with Emma before- came closer to her, putting his hand on her shoulder and saying "Of course. You obviously have some sort of ailment where being polite to people would cause you to drop dead or else I'm sure you would display the epitome of good manners. And whatever malady causes your eyes to see me as a boy means I'd feel bad for insulting you about it." in a calm voice.

'...I like him' Inner said making Haruka chuckle at her amused voice. "You" the girl said as she looked at Haruka. "Yes?" Haruka said, tilting her head in questionand smiling to the girl. "Darius mentioned that a layour would be good. Check the desk for one. A directory or whatever." She said in a hostile voice which made Haruka raise her eyebrows at the girl's tone. 'Figures' inner said in an amused voice. 'Figures what?' Haruka thought, as she walk away. 'that she saw you under the car, aiming your gun at Salvador, someone she must truly trust' Inner said, chuckling insanely at the thought of killing a person. 'Shut your mouth, your getting annoying as time pass'

"I told you to shut up, didn't I?" Haruka talk back, not realizing that she was talking aloud as she was busy keeping the other personality quiet. 'My head...' she thought as she stop infront of the desk. It's surface were dusty. Opening one drawer, Haruka found some folders. She took them and then she spread it all in the table. Opening another drawer, she found a pistol. A small pistol with a rough textured frame. "A Glock 22? Nice" She said, putting the small gun aside. After looking inside most of the drawers, all she found was a set of keys and some folders that seem to contain some important details.

"That's it, a set of keys, a couple of folder- oh" Haruka stopped as she opened the last drawer. What she saw made her want to smack her head against the wall or punch the devil on the face continuously or curse God again and again. On the other side, inner was cackling furiously at the 'gift from heaven' or the 'Masterpiece' as she quoted.

"And a fucking masterpiece for males in this Fucking apocalypse, a stock of porn"​

 

[CupAndCough]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer / Parking Lot
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force Epiphany
Mentions:

Companions:
Darius (Following Grigori)
Velska (Inside)

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 D E X 」
◈◈◈◈◈
「 C O N 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 I N T 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

[/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Grigori raised an eyebrow at his son's remembrance of the family edict, "You do remember my teachings then, but hold your tongue boy--I am still your father. You call me sir, it would be best that you remember that." Grigori pulled forth a sternness. It bellowed forth, it was not a shout or tirade, it was a command. Darius shifted as heard his father rectify his actions. Reflected on easily excitable his nature was, how it clouded his thoughts. A sorry does not satisfy Grigori. Action and consistency does.

"Yes, sir", Darius ripped off a car door. Its metal structure weakened due neglect and weather. Heavy, but not so much so that the tall young man had much in terms of struggle with. His strength wouldn't compare to his father's. It was good enough however that it made him more than useful. Little was to be found in terms of tension between them, the matter had concluded as Darius hoisted the door up and marched towards the entrance. He loved his father, he loved his work, he loved his beliefs--but in some fashion he felt much too tactless and informal in comparison to his father. Grigori had struggled, he felt it. However so did Darius, a child soldier. Some warlords human trafficked slave for cheap labor and drone work. He had no place quantifying struggle, wasn't his place, but why didn't his struggle provide him with such a powerful design. He felt disappointing to this man, his father, like watching the back of a mountain aim its earthen apex towards fate. Aimed at the heart of God. Darius had much to learn, to resolve what was best for humanity. To avenge the world he was robbed. Grigori found him holding mass produced arms, but believed him to be right and special. A son.

What would his purpose be?

Grigori watched as his son walked towards the camp, peering at his broad shoulders, watching him lift the weight of a door. A wall to protect the group they rested with. Rumination of his son, verging on the cusp of adulthood, he wondered what world he would leave to Darius, what axioms he would follow, what future he would carve. Grigori sought mankind's liberation, it's vengence, to give what begot trifling spirits and daemons in the affairs and lives of mortal men. The last errant thought bleed out as aggression, snapping a door off the hinges with relative ease. Its heavy frame caught listlessly by the antideist.
Did his father agonize over such subjects and what-wills? Did the woman who adopted him and send him off to the military machine of America plot his course?

He looked towards his personal radio. The Detective perhaps still wandering through creature infested halls had not given status updates. A slight smuggness eminated from the ex-Major. 'Forgetting Protocol for Gungho Exploration?'He thought. Darius and Grigori completed their venture of car material barricades.

Velska looked at Haruka, she could tell that thoughts rampaged in her mind like a schizophrenic. It was not amusing to the young girl, but as she spoke aloud a grimace came over her. She clearly was mad.

Velska sneered at Erxa touching her. She really didn't like contact. She was born without a large sensation of touch, of how to feel, of what pain and softness was. And considered if the boy had attempted to inflict pain upon her fruitlessly.
Emotionally she was able, but at a tender age she resorted in paranoia and fear. Perhaps taking over her emotions, robbing her of restful nights. Death lurked on her, preyed upon her ignorance to the sensations owed to her that so many agonized and cried over. Envy, malediction, annoyance--until a man, with pale hair. Paler than her own skin. Brought news of her mother. A woman who left her in a home alone many nights with a rotating list of nannies. He had death and pain on his lips. However it reached beyond sensation, something well beyond her ken to explain....She had gained a father that day, and though sensation was still an echo compared to those around her...she felt something more powerful than most would ever know....

"I did not know a grown man was capable of such a painful, and womanly, passive aggressiveness. How biting", She replied back with a lippy retort. A smugness somewhat eminated from her, as if to say 'Well done. You took the bait. You didn't really accomplish anything..'. Her eyes narrowed as Erza used telekinesis, she understood afflicted existed. And a few she even saw herself with Grigori and Darius. Grigori had mentioned them as humans who gave into the demonic violation that sought to corrupt their world, a possible demon in wait. In some form she thought the idea of allowing such a person who consorted with the filthy influences of demons was...unintelligent to say the least. However Grigori mentioned that humanity was crafty, cunning, and more willing to rip forth the power of demons to hoist Demonkind on a pike...

She looked towards Stella as she lit fire pile with debris and wooden items. Her eyebrows raised, but her eyes narrow. She looked at the papers charring in the pit by magicborn flame, she was a witch, and wondered if she even considered reading any of them. She had no stocks placed in the competence of the gaggle of misfits and supernatural beings. Witches were uncommon for her, but not unacknowledged. Useful, but crafty. And when she saw her talk to Grigori, out of the corner her eye, she remembered.

"Don't harass my father." She grumbled as she shoved a stick through the pyre. Unfolded papers crinkled by heat. No map, but still annoying. "He isn't interested". A rather..protective comment slipped out from her mouth only too be hushed out by the roar of the flame. She had not cared for the interaction, it left her feeling emotions

As the flame roared she hustled to make food for the group, often her job while hiding away from lethal enemies. Grigori and Darius were well and able, but she could barely feel the searing flame of the open pit. She long realized her ailment was beyond repair, but she dare not be useless in woe after Grigori had given her care and hearth.
With rations in hand she had begun the ritual of making a meal for 18 people in total. She pouted, what invigorating peril. A stew would serve best. And with that preparations went underway...

Grigori approach to the camp, fire lit by magic and telekinetic manipulations in use, he observed the strategic benefit to the group. Wondering what possessed the leader of this band to accumulate such....abled people. In his steps he passed by Emma. Dragging the bodies out. Mangled. Shot. Dismembered. Demons relegated a once proud species into vicious lampreys and screeching vermin. Voracious ghoul-beings. It only nestled his hatred within him for these demonic refuses and dregs. Who would weep for these departed? He rarely had these thoughts as a soldier, but as a prophet it weighed with such enormity that it was leaking through his visible features. A solemn grim look. Brows covering his eye in shaded darkness, a glint of rage. A speck of overwhelming hatred and passion.
The grim-featured man snapped to his senses and found himself staring too long at the corpses.

"This is what they wrought upon us. For existing. This is what those eyes above give only remorseless observations for, for not beseeching some great pity upon them. A simple request of a life well lived...The agony is gone now, I won't forget your passing. I won't forgive those who sent you to become ashes..." A eulogy for the forsaken, for the departed souls long gone and bodies subjugated. His voice was of stern anger, of somber hate. For a moment Emma being there had not mattered, this moment was for them as he gave them last rights.
Grigori left his sermon, only to gaze at Emma. His face showing a strange...preacher like visage.

"I wonder who will pay for the happenings here, the responsibility. The repercussions of their life being robbed. Sickening."He ended it curtly. Darius and his father added to the barricade. More than enough to keep out the storm.

"Velska is cooking, sir", Darius spoke watching his diminutive sibling fiddle with rations and meals to create something that would feed the platoon. It was a mix of excitement and worry. Velska was a wonderful gift to the palate in a horrid wasteland, but her tampering with knives and fire set the protective brother reflexes into a tizzy.
"I see that Darius. Go in and help her, see to it she didn't accidently injure herself." He ordered, as looked at Erza. His powers being a peculiarity to the prophet. He nodded to the young man and left following Darius in toe, acknowledging his existence as a cold dark wind followed behind.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1B1B; box-sizing:border-box; color:#f9f9f9; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: crimson; font-size:3em; font-style:bold; padding:0; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1B1B; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px double crimson; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-size:1.2em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-color:black; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class] [class=magical] margin:auto;center; background:white; opacity:0.5; width:100%; [/class]

 

[Lekiel]

Reverie Lowiezka

Location: Somewhere in the station.| Interacting with: Dzwon | Mentions: BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater Chise_Robin_ Paarthurnax Lakyr | Current Do: Hair tied in ponytail, Black zipper anorak over White tank top, Jeans, Black Converse.

❖ ❖​

Reverie kept herself close to the ground, afraid the twisted entity might come back with its raking claws to finish the job, knowing its deception had failed. But it did not. She should've taken that moment to act. The old Reverie would have, without a second of hesitation. But she was not herself lately. And so she had laid there, back pressing painfully against the edge of a bench while her eyes stared in bewilderment as the Bell Witch assailed her companions. The scene in the dimly lit locker room might as well have been right out of an indie horror movie about hauntings. And if it weren't for their dire straits, Reverie might've even scoffed as several of her group appeared to be caught up in apparent conversation with the incorporeal shade. Though judging by their expressions, they clearly were not exchanging pleasantries. It had not given up when the White Witch had broken out of her thrall. She sensed its growing frustration, casting its web of lies broader over them. Perhaps it was because of that, that it began to make mistakes. Or perhaps each and every one of her group held a substance within the very fiber of their being. Something that they could hold on to. Something they relied on that broadened the narrowed path of whispered uncertainty and crushing doubt, that is the crux of a Bell Witch's attack. Who were these people? Her eyes sought out each huddled form, their faces contorted with a myriad of expressions as they faced their inner demons with impassioned audacity. A sudden movement caused her to turn sharply, eyes wide as Rhys stumbled towards her. His gaze fixed upon her for one moment, and in the next, it flickered out of focus.

"Fight it..." She'd whisper, knowing he already was; with every unyielding strand of his will. One by one, they were breaking free. And she was hearing the soul-piercing wail once again. Her prey was struggling out of her web and the demon witch did not like it one bit. And when Bell Witches grew desperate, they became overwhelmingly violent. She barely had time to register what happened, but when she did, she only saw Rhys ducking out of the way as the lockers behind him twisted and peeled open with an unseen force. The screech of metal was like a keening of excruciating pain. Here she comes...

She heard her name. It was the Nic guy. And in all honesty, she didn't know the answer. She should. But her mind was a whirr, dread clouding her percipience, forcing her to cower out of fully justified fear. She's coming... She's coming... We shouldn't have come here... We're all dead... her eyes shifted to every corner of the room. They had to get out. Get out before it was too late. Then she saw her discarded backpack. And in that moment, she remembered. Her journal. A gift from her mother, filled with even more gifts etched in meticulous cursive on its yellowed pages.

"MOVE!" She didn't know who said it, it might've even been her final cry. A petulant denial in the face of certain death. But she took heed of it. She threw herself to her bag, even as the lockers just beside her burst outwards with an explosive bang. Twisted metal careening unerringly close to her evading form. She screamed for her life, grabbing her bag and pressing herself as close to the ground as possible to avoid being crushed by the flung debris. She dug into her pack, fingers finally closing on worn leather skin. She pulled her spellbook out, it was eerily warm, but she didn't have time to even flip its pages. She heard a warning shout, somehow knew it was meant for her

"LOOKOUT!"

She threw herself to the side for the second time. A millisecond later, heavy metal lockers smashed into the ground where she had been. Reverie didn't even have time to breathe. Scrambling on all fours, with adrenaline numbing her bruises, she rushed to where she had thrown her belongings in her haste to save her own life. Unsteady fingers clutching scant inches from her book. Then she heard a sibilant hiss in her ear. So close she thought it right next to her.

"NO!" Sharp claws dug into her ankle, dragging her unceremoniously backwards and away from her book as if the woman weighed nothing. She nearly despaired, but then the pages of her book rustled in unnatural wind. And then she knew, like she always did. Mama...

"Osłaniać mnie!" The familiar flash of gold, a piercing shriek of pain, and then she was free! Her spell worked this time. The woman scrambled frantically, barely up before she was again diving to retrieve her book, which had stopped flipping on a page. And at that moment, she saw the carefully sketched pictures and diagrams. Revelation surged through her soul. Seconds felt like an eternity. She was crashing to the floor, but one hand was already grasping at the book, and in the other, she reached for the elongated coloured stone tucked securely in its spine. Her shoulders struck the unyielding floor. Pain flared through her frame but she gritted her teeth and stared in defiance at the creature of nightmares. Again it rushed at her, but this time, Reverie was the quicker.

"Bariera!" With a practiced sweep of the coloured stone, she drew a perfect half circle before her. The Bell Witch leaped. A torrent within her surged, pure and powerful. Instinctively, she knew it had been there all along. Lying dormant. The twisted mass of darkness closed in. And then a wall of incandescent gold ignited between them. The Bell Witch recoiled, screaming as the hallowed light scorched its roiling substanceless flesh. Reverie's eyes were wide in shock, but she did not hesitate, the knowledge had always been within her but she had lacked the strength. But on this cold evening, kneeling on the accursed ground of the police station, she could feel the blood of her forebears call for release. And she answered it.

"IRON!" She shouted, hoping the others could hear her. "Line the room with iron! Do whatever it takes, just don't let it out!" She dug into her bag with one hand and flung a few bottles out into the open. They smashed into the ground, exposing an assortment of rusted metal nails and bolts. She didn't know if it was enough, but they'd have to figure it out. The Bell Witch would probably focus the White Witch, especially after she had exposed herself. It was deliberate, she hoped she could buy them time.

The swiftly drawn barrier mark was already fading. Ruby lips quivered, the beginnings of an incantation lisping from the edge of her tongue. Hazel orbs grew distant, staring beyond the tainted walls of the locker room.

"Swiatło we mnie krew całej matki..." as she chanted, the chalk was dashed against the ground. Markings and runes of an unknown language were struck out onto the cement. The Bell Witch howled, charging at her again and again. But each time, it was met with the final stroke of a completed sigil. And each time, it recoiled screeching in agony. "Niech wasze niekończące się rzeki napełniają mój puchar..-" The foreign tongue pierced the stifling air in accented staccatos. Spoken softly, yet somehow resonating off the four-cornered walls. Sensing doom, the Bell Witch disintegrated in a whirl of shadows, only to reappear at one of the sides stopping just short of the line of iron that was being layed out. Its horrified screech rising in a crescendo. "Daj mi moc, by wyrzucić tę zagubioną duszę!" An elaborate pentagram now surrounded the brunette, each etched symbol and rune gleaming softly in the gloom. The Bell Witch suddenly materialized before her. A desperate clawed hand reached to grasp for her vulnerable throat. The barrier flared up in a wall of light, searing unholy flesh, but the Witch didn't seem to feel the pain. It wailed louder still, struggling with an immeasurable strength to force its appendage in. A blackened nail finally scratched at alabaster skin, drawing a thin trickle of blood. But the White Witch didn't seem to notice, her lips continued to utter her spell, hands marking the ground. Then there was an audible CRACK, the chalk snapped in twain. The ritual was complete.

Reverie opened her eyes, flecks of gold shimmering in her irises as the blackened and disintegrating hand closed around her throat.

"Fuck you."

If shadows could crack, then that was what happened. A sliver of golden light streaked across the dark twisted mass. It screeched, violently throwing itself about the room as more and more cracks ripped the apparition asunder. Reverie watched it, her lips a grim line as the light filled her senses. Overwhelming and enfolding her. She was vaguely aware of her spent frame slipping onto the cold ground.

She closed her eyes and welcomed oblivion.

P.s.: Rèvie is in a comma, very shallow breathing. Feel free to (wo)manhandle within reasonable bounds

code by Ri.a

 

[GuavaJuiceXI]

Luci
CupAndCough Paarthurnax

Standing in front of Luci, was an older man. Luci believes that his name was...Salvadoll? Or was it Salvagore? Something around there. Luci got quite the...strange vibe from him. He couldn't quite put his tongue on it, but he didn't trust him. It was just the air about him. It was either that, or it was just because Ezra was by him. "pfft" Luci let out a little laugh, laughing at his own joke. Now, the girl next to him however, did catch his eye. She was far from normal. He didn't know what, but she was definitely different. Her brother was also strange. Brash and bold, he worried him. Luci then realized what he was doing was pretty weird, and started worrying that he was lurking. He broke out in a sweat and ran the opposite way.

As he slowed down into a walk, he remembered that he rode in here with Luiza, on a motorcycle. At the beginning, Luci tried to hold onto the bar behind him, however, since his hand broke, he could barely keep himself stable. He ended up holding onto Luiza. Luci's face turned beet red. Inhale...I touched her, now I can't marry anyone ;-;. I guess I'll just take a shower.. Luci then starts to walk to the showers..with his face painted with embarrassment. Or at least he'll attempt to.

 

[Kaas]

[class=Notes] //So this is an older code that I tried to fix up to look nicer// //Forward slashes are comments // //and do no show up in the final design,// //these are to help you find everything easily// //and explain some code as well // //These comments must be with in a class or script tags// // in order to be hidden, from what I know. // //Long URls are images// //# followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes// //or color codes// //this code does not show breaks unless is shows the
code. // // when typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press ente// // it will not show that you did. you'll have to use the
tags// [/class]

[class=Notes] //The background image// [/class]

[class=Notes] //the image in the cirlce and the border// [/class]
[class=Notes] //Below is the purple box and the content meant for tags// [/class]

BGM: 1 Hour of Dark Winter Music & Gothic Music
Located: Police HQ
Mentioned: Hell0NHighWater

code by AgWordSmith

[class=Notes] //the transparent with background and the border and below is the text// [/class]

Snowflakes fell softly to the ground from the sky high above. They danced and twirled in a chaotic but beautiful dance towards the ground. They mingled and mixed, flitting around each other as victims to the whims of the wind. As their* dance ended with their landing, a foot stepped across them. In a steady march, the feet moved onwards. A voiced hummed out La Medicina - Zouk La Se Sel Medikaman Nou Ni as it moved through the silent streets. The characters boots hit the concrete in a rhythm, and looking upon the figure it wouldn't have taken much to see he was dancing alone in these streets. Well, almost alone. A serpent wormed its way through the cloak of the figure, trying to keep warm in the frosty city.​

Hours passed as the figured wandered the city, aimlessly following a whisper he heard during one of his seizures. But Adisa was strong-willed, and his spirits were undeterred by the cold. And it had paid off. He skidded to a halt and looked upon the police station with a glint in his eyes. His teeth curled into his crazed smile as he gulped in a comically large amount of the crisp air around him. ​

"Rhys!! I hope you didn't think you could get rid of me that easily!"​

His voice echoed through the station, bouncing in and out of every crevice possible. Did he use magic to make his voice so powerfully loud? Or was Adisa just loud enough to do so? Not even the crazed Prophet could say for himself. As was custom, he began to chuckle in his own unique way. Some days, it felt more like a malformed cough coming out of him. His manic joy spread throughout the air around him and reached the ears of those close enough to hear with ease. Adisa regained his composure and closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath as his face curled into an psychotic grin. As he stood beneath the cold sky he whispered to himself.​

"The Doctor is in."​

 

[Lakyr]

James
BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater Chise_Robin_ Lekiel Paarthurnax Anise

There was no immediate threat and they spread across the room, so James put his blade away leaning against a wall and started rummaging through the lockers as well. But before he could find anything of use he paused as he heard a faint sound barely acknowledged by his senses. It was a soft whistled tune together with gentle footsteps. He resumed searching, thinking it was probably one of the others around him. But the steps seemed to be coming closer and the whistling louder whilst every other sound seemed to be duller and soon James found himself hesitating once again. He heard a last more forceful step somewhere behind him and the whistled tune suddenly stopped, for a second everything was dead quiet. Then he heard an exhale and felt icy air running up his neck. As he turned around nobody was behind him, his eyes darted through the room and he saw the rest of this small group most of them looking startled. They were talking but he was oblivious to the words said, only hearing the same whistled melody again coming from the other side of the room. He shifted his gaze towards the sound but his eyes stopped at the sight of a familiar person. He was tall and had a strong build and though he was facing away from James so that he could only see his back he immediately recognized him. Matt. His brother had the same dark hair as James, it was just a little longer and curled off his heads sides wildly.

James didn't even need to glance over into the dark corner to notice the eerie being creeping out of the shadows eclipse. He instantly went into autopilot, he didn't scream nor yell and neither did he really think. He just started running, watching the things flickering motion towards his brother. Its body was abnormally twisted and warped, its limbs were uncannily long and it looked like a living creature fused with shadows. It hauled its arm up and what was just a torn end before slowly morphed into a huge claw ready to strike his brother, who was still unaware of the thing behind him. He was just about to tackle the thing, as just disappeared right in front of him, taking his brother with it.

Before he knew got a hold the situation again he was hurled into the air by what felt like nothing more than frigid air. He spun around and again saw nothing behind him before his back crashed into the lockers. His vision became a blur as his head connected with the metal, but that was nothing compared to the pain that shot through his shoulder and kept throbbing through his body. He lay on the ground trying to prop himself up, a constant pounding echoing in his ears as his vision became clear again. Somebody crouched down in front of him, James tilted his head upwards and looked into the face of his brother, but it was painted in blood and rapidly decaying as it started to speak, "You are worthless, little brother. You're gonna die miserably after all your worst nightmares came true." It was his voice but different, darker. "Fuck off!" as much as the words could have hurt, it wasn't that bad because he was aware that this wasn't real anymore and he just put a slight defiant smile on his face. As his brother's face was almost beyond recognition it crumbled away and beneath it, Niks face was revealed. But instead of blue, his eyes were pure black and his hair was matted with gore. "Your future holds nothing but despair, this is how your new friends will end." blood started running down Niks face and beneath it seemed to transform, his voice now slowly altering into one more female, "You will fail, you cannot save any of-"

"IRON!"

Not only was the creature interrupted by the shout, but it also took away the complete attention it had for James and the thing in front of him just dispersed. He couldn't hear what was said afterward but he had to run over and help. He yelped in pain as he tried to get up, putting to much pressure onto the shoulder that still hurt like shit. All he could do was to watch the witch fight the spirit as he was getting up with the help of the lockers behind him. His eyes were still locked on the fight, mostly on the spirit, as he steadily walked over. He could barely stay on his feet as it started screeching and throwing itself across the room whilst basically breaking apart. As silence filled the room again he was almost back at the point where he had put his machete down he raised his voice, trembling though doing his best to keep it calm, "Is it done?" He looked over towards the rest of them, his expression not hiding how messed up he was right now.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText] Location: Haunted AF Locker-room
Tags: Favorite Witch Lekiel |Jams Lakyr |Lulu Paarthurnax |The Greatest State Chise_Robin_ |Jaemin Anise |Blondie BasiliskVeranda
Mentions: Homophobic Bitch from Hell | Adisa?
BGM: It Hurts
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
"Fight it..."

Reverie's whispered words echoed in the back of his mind, contorting with Nik's perturbed voice. Rhys didn't really understand what was going on, whatever this thing was....it wasn't something he knew how to deal with. Demons, Revenants, Vampires, Humans....they were all tangible. All things --all problems-- that he could potentially solve with his fists. This thing? A ghost? How did you hurt a ghost? Rhys didn't like that helpless feeling. But he had to trust that the rest of the group would know what to do, especially when there was no chance in hell he could help. Not like this anyway.
A deep wound was sliced in the flesh of his upper leg. It was heavily oozing out blood which he could feel staining his jeans and sliding down the length of his calf. He lightly pressed the pad of his index finger against the center of the cut and sucked in a sharp breath as the pain spiraled all across his body. Colorful spots contoured the sides of his eyes and he bit his lip in automatic response.

"Emrys, it is not proper for the next capo della casa to behave in such a manner."
Azure orbs glanced upwards again, seeing that apparition materialize before his eyes. She was a translucent, transparent, shimmering, figment that blended in with the lockers behind her. She was gaunt, with eyes black as wells, that flickered in and out of focus as if trying to capture the visage of Chiara Contiello from a memory he had fought long and hard to forget. The appearance of her was smudged, quivering, shaking, trembling, glowing brightly, yet barely visible, a smoky silhouette, reaching out with an imploring look, beseeching with that open black mouth, staring with vacant, soulless eyes.
"You are confused, mio figlio. There is no love that can be had between two men."

He wanted to rip her throat out.
That anger surged in him just as it had in the memory.
The night he left.
The night he decided that he would make his own way in the world.
His grandfather would have been proud.

Rhys clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth ground together almost painfully. His fingers tightened around the grip of his gun, flames sputtering at the tips of his fingers.
It's head twisted, the illusion slipping briefly as if that thing's attention was currently focused on something else. Something that, immersed in the rage and pain that sweltered inside him, was muted almost as if it were far away yet close at the same time.
The mimic of his mother inched toward him, twitching in all the wrong ways, eyes the same color as his own looked down at him with such a motherly adoration that Rhys felt himself shrinking away. If he hadn't been certain that this wasn't his mother then, he was now.

"As a kid...I always wished that he looked at me like that."

His eyes narrowed, the blue sparks around his fingers dying like a fire without oxygen. It's lips curled back into a snarl, a screech billowing from it's mouth as it rushed at him, claws reaching to cut through him.

"Daj mi moc, by wyrzucić tę zagubioną duszę!"

A smirk curled across his lips, not knowing the words yet somehow recognizing the cadence. A spell. Something, perhaps, that would keep him from getting shredded into small string-cheese strips.

"Enjoy hell you homophobic bitch."

And she was gone. Whatever that thing was vanished before his very eyes in a plume of smoke. The room felt lighter then and perhaps just a little less cold. Rhys let out a breath of air he didn't know he had been holding, falling back against the tile of the locker-room floor. He stared up at the cracked ceiling, all too aware of the pain rocketing through his limbs. Maybe if he just laid down for a bit, he'd be okay. There was a weight on him, a sort of fatigue that he knew didn't have anything to do with how tired he was. Over his shoulder he heard the sound of someone collapse and he angled his head just enough to make out Reverie laying across the tile in a much less cognoscente state.

"Is it done?"
James.
Relief flooded through his veins for a moment, happy that everyone was more or less alive from what he could tell. Deciding that laying on the floor probably wasn't the best option, he grasped at the bench to his right and struggled to pull himself back up. His nerves screamed in agony as pain seared through his shoulder, sending tingles all the way down his body. Rhys turned his head in James's direction, a weak smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I think so."
He grunted, trying to get his feet under him.
"Fuck." The curse slipped out of him as he slid back on his ass, realizing that there was no way he was getting up on his own. God this was such a mess. Rhys took a long breath, wishing that for just once he wouldn't have to fight while already injured. His attention shifted towards Alaska blue eyes scrutinizing her for any outward injury, just as he had done to James a couple seconds prior.

"Alaska...can you and James get those doors that lead into the gym blocked off? I don't think we'll want anymore unwelcome guests."
A sharp his of pain left his lips as he positioned himself to get a better look at Reverie. He watched her side as it rose and fell with deep, shallow, breaths. Unconscious was better than dead. Maybe he could get Nik to grab her? Or Jaemin? In the distance he could have sworn he heard someone call his name...

The radio that had been clipped to his pants (it had slid off when he dived out of the way) crackled with muffled static on the other side of the room.

Rhys glared at it as if it offended him.

He'd get it eventually. But right now he would just sit and tell himself that he just needed to catch his breath; he was fine.


[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#2a4047; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

mentions: Lakyr Hell0NHighWater and basically the whole witch hunting squad
location: the police academy
BGM:

Reverie's voice came roaring with spells, a language she'd never heard before. Whatever apathy was on the young hunter's face now was replaced with concern for the woman suffering on the floor, fighting and shouting and being dragged. Alaska's dagger was ready in her hand, she looked around, feeling completely helpless against that bitch. She shouted for them to get iron, and the first idea to hit her was the lockers' doors.

The sound of metal now being ripped out of the sockets filled the air, she wasn't even sure if those metal doors contained iron, but got two anyways laying them on the ground with her eyes watching James be dragged across the room ''Shit''
Their resident witch delivered however, the shadow cracked and a shriek escaped the dead witch's lungs, it was the only trail it left as it disappeared into oblivion.....

''Is it done?'' James' voice came concerned to say the least. Alaska's eyes wandered from one person to the other, landing on no one in particular. Kaeden lifted the witch who was now in deep sleep, Alaska frowned wondering if he remembered her from the academy, she didn't open her mouth to ask though.

''"Alaska...can you and James get those doors that lead into the gym blocked off? I don't think we'll want anymore unwelcome guests." Rhys's voice reflected the pain that now show on his face. Alaska nodded in reply, the sting from the burn on her neck still vibrant and red, the color contrasting with her pale neck, she'd have to ask one of the witches to take a look at it.

The now opened double doors were closed slowly one by one, hiding the contents of the orange floored gym. Alaska's eyes searched for something to block the doors, the only thing that actually looked to be helpful enough was the set of lockers standing tall in the locker room. She opened her mouth to ask James for help with them only to see the pained look on his face. Alaska frowned coming closer to the brown haired hunter, her hand touching his shoulder lightly: ''Are....are you ok?'' her voice came gentle and soft, the touch light as a feather, her brown honey colored eyes now looked into his dark green ones. He was in pain, and his shoulder looked in a very bad position, he wouldn't be able to move it at all: ''That bitch really got what she deserved'' she tucked a stay peice of hair behind her ear: ''Do you need help with that'' a slight smile was upon her lips, it was going to hurt should he agree, but it wasn't logical to go around with a dislocated shoulder after all.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station > Locker Room From Hell.

OOC:xxxx fffffucck
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr Lekiel Paarthurnax Anise Chise_Robin_ Hell0NHighWater
BGM:xxxxCHROMATICS - INTO THE BLACK



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks] “Yeah I’m not into this shit myself,” said Luiza, another person that Nik realized was talking enough sense to snap herself free of whatever hellish machination had been ripping through her. The others were struggling with what they were facing, and he rightly couldn't say he was doing much for the majority of it. Because he felt so exceptionally powerless...it wasn't something he could see, or fight, for them. Being someone so innate in physicality, this was a helplessness he didn't understand. If he could see it, and touch it, he could rend it asunder, with sharp blades, the powers of hell, and a wicked tongue.

There'd be a lot of emotional damage after this, he knew. Living through some past pains, the trauma of times before, that always opened up wounds. Not usually physical in nature, but perhaps emotional. Maybe even spiritual, if he was the kind of guy to believe in that. He was sure with what the others saw, their harrowed expressions, that they'd be left stricken in ways, the deep wounds open. But maybe stronger for it, maybe better able to handle it next time. The physical wounds would stick too, however. Lots of mending for the lot of them.

He met her ghost enough times that this wasn't new, or even terrifying. You get used to the ink blots of before when they dot the corners of your mind constantly.

''However we do it...Let's get it over with'' Alaska was done with her own battle, and Nik's smiled, but his emotions were in flux. He hadn't done much but rifle through things and swear. This is where he lacked something, this he knew. The witches had their powers to fight these unseen creatures, they had their spells and their knowledge, he had...darkness. Not even the telepathy he had been told he should be able to wield was something he could enact. Almost like he was blocked from wielding it, when it would've been such a boon in these times of duress and stress.

"Line the room with iron! Do whatever it takes, just don't let it out!" Shouted out Reverie as her finesse of fight and the glory of her gifts besieged the ghastly creature they were all being tortured by. Now he was able to take action, quickly scrambling his fingers even through broken shards of glass to line the room with rusted over nuts and bolts. He couldn't use any of his damnable abilities right now. It would've been so much easier to sweep darkness along the floor and crackle all the bits of iron across the room like shrapnel. He was far too concerned about traversing into the dark side, though he knew this fight against the Bell Witch would be over quicker if he had that capacity.

This felt worse than the sin he wrestled with. In this moment, he did realize what he feared most, out of anything. Being helpless to help those around him, or stop their suffering. Diana...she would've found a way to overcome her limitations. That was just the person she had been. He was also terrified of hurting them.

And he would, hurt them, if he was allowed to cross over the line.

"It's done!" the statement fell from Nik's mouth as his cigarette dwindled. He flicked it the ground. His fingers ached, his hands bled. There was almost nothing he liked less than glass in his skin. Tiny fucking pieces of the shit just digging into the spaces, into the creases, it'd take forever to get it all out. But that was a small price to pay, considering he'd been mostly inert during this whole traumatic endeavor.

"Fuck off!" His dark blue gaze cast itself to James, and yet again Nik felt like the outsider looking in. This pain was impenetrable. Just what was he seeing? What were they all experiencing? What had kept them in such thrall?

"Fuck you." Reverie was the hero in this fight, and she gave up her strength to get the others past this obstacle. As Reverie fell, she shifted as if in slow motion, falling like a flower, her eyes dazed and unseeing. Nik lurched forward, hands scraped and bloodied from the glasses that had more or less torn up his digits, but was halted by the ghost. His ghost.

Not the ghost of before. And this time she stood, and there was no smile on her face, just a glance. A stare, a stare he knew too well, a stare like when she had been in a foul mood, or he had done something stupid.

"Enjoy hell you homophobic bitch." It shot right through the core of Nik's bones. That was a statement he understood, and that was a reason he had been good with knife-work before the crappocalypse had flooded their world with hellfire and decay. He realized, as the people around him were tormented by this fucking witch bitch, that he didn't truly know any of them, not at all. But he knew that phrase.

He did know that, as well as he knew every ridge of the blades that had kept him safe in less than stellar parts of his old haunts in Queens, as a scrappy youth with too much piss and vinegar in his veins.

Though the bell witch was now gone, in smoke, in ash, as below so above, he saw his own visceral past in natural colors, hues of jewel-tones and warm lights and all the trappings of beauty on a face he so loved to look on.

She was the warning bell.

No skipping, no coy looks, no warbling between the others. She stood on the edge of his vision, and his heart leapt up into his throat. The time was soon, and his mind knew it. As his mind knew it, so did she. Her gaze became somber, and then sad, and the little vision of his addled mine looked off into the distance, and back at him, but didn't leave.

She wasn't leaving.

"Is it done?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Fuck." Rhys collapsed straight on his ass, and that made the warning of his former love flicker her emotions. The thing about hallucinations was that they weren't very clear in image. Mostly as they were fueled by an addled brain, they were not unlike waking dreams. She was a very vivid one, but still bleeding on the edges of what he understood to be consciousness and alertness. She stared on at the people in his company, looking on them each, then folded her arms across her chest. The blue of her dress became fractals, and her emotion again changed, as if in pity.

Pity for them. Pity for him. Pity.

Nik swallowed hard then stepped right through the figment, who still didn't leave, and caught the blip from the radio that had clattered far away. He also heard the uncanny scrawl of a voice he did recognize pitch off the walls, of their leader's name. Hopefully it wasn't another fucking ghost.

He said nothing, retrieved the radio, clipping it on his own belt next to the knives he had long since tucked into their makeshift holsters. He rounded back, again, saying nothing, and knelt near Reverie to check her pulse. She was out, but she was still breathing, still living, still with them.

"Alaska...can you and James get those doors that lead into the gym blocked off? I don't think we'll want anymore unwelcome guests." Rhys was still issuing orders as fucked up as he was. That was admirable.

"Alright," he broke his silence.
"We've got an unconscious witch and a detective that's been fucked up by a hellish ghost-I'm uncultured. Jaemin, grab Rev. I'll lug around this poor bastard around," he said with a distant look. There as no cheeky smile to be had. He had something he wanted to ask the man, and this was the time to do it. He had to, because Rhys was their defacto leader, the minute their crew had bonded together. It wasn't that he didn't want to carry the witch. It was that he needed to say something, something important enough that the faded memory of his past was still standing, and looking at him, insistently.

That beautiful little warning opened her mouth, but spoke no words, but he already knew what she—his own mind—was trying to tell him.

Nik walked back, and knelt.
"Come on princess." He got Rhys off his ass, the blood of the wound on his shoulder and his leg adding to the mix of whatever was all over Nik, yet again. Bloody handed, just...red. Red, and raw, and painful. He raised him up, despite what protests he may have had, and hefted him onto a bench that had yet remained. Nik took his flannel shirt off, a sleeve still good in all this cadmium red and ruddy tones, and ripped the sleeve off with one of his knives.

"Alright," that was becoming a word he was using too often. Nik did his duty to tie off Rhys' fucked up leg injury, and was about to start on the one that had opened up on his shoulder. He'd have to stitch it with the fishing line when they got back to the camp that he was hoping was now settled. Or ask Emma to use her blessed grace to restore his injuries. She had a way about her, such a gift, precious and rare.

"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I'm going to need you to..." Nik bit his lip as he tore up his flannel shirt with his knife again, prepared to keep their fearless leader going strong. Because he had to keep going. The warning locked eyes with the part-time devil, and opened her—its—his...mouth. Nothing came out. But her lips moved, her red, rosed lips. Nik made a noise with his mouth, something akin to frustration but more like exasperation, or defeat.

"I'm on the line right now. I think you know what that means. Can you make sure...I don't do something fuckin' stupid?" There was a different question here, one that Nik was specifically not asking. He patched their leader up as best he could, and stalked away to grab his backpack. Not giving the other man a chance to say yes or...well, he'd have to say yes. He wasn't going to ask James or Alaska, that was for certain. Nik shifted to carrying it on one shoulder and came back to the whitelighter.

He sat on the bench beside him and started picking out the glass shards from his hands with his knife, a sigh escaping from his lips.

"I...don't want them knowing." He specifically meant Alaska and James, which he hoped Rhys understood.

His warning played her fingers over the lockers, moving nothing, as she was...a figment. She turned, made another motion with her bright lips, and shook her head. He pursed his lips, stared at her for a few moments, and dug more into his flesh with the knife. It hurt, but it was welcome.

Because it meant he was still human, and still alive. He pulled bits of glass free and stared at the blood on his hands.

And he hoped it would only be his, or an evil thing's, and not...any of their's. Ever.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText] Location: Not so Haunted Locker-room
Tags: Favorite Witch Lekiel |Jams Lakyr |Lulu Paarthurnax |The Greatest State Chise_Robin_ |Jaemin Anise |Blondie BasiliskVeranda
BGM: Fix You
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
Darkness was a strange substance, like ice it has three states solid, liquid, and gas, but with a twist. It manifests as a sort of mystical material within the soul, able to change states at the whim of some unknown user. In solid form it's almost completely black aside from a very tiny shade of red at its center, like a candle in the dark, when a non-user touches it its like getting winded, hit by a sharp point that will penetrate and quickly infect. As a liquid it's thick; sticky, and has a pungent smell that taints the very essence it touches, it can act like quicksand. As a gas it is able to pass through solid material with ease, suffocate, and eat away like acid. In a way, Rhys understood the darkness. He knew what it did, how it consumed, and he knew that it was an impossible bed fellow, never one to give mercy to those that deserved it.

"Come on princess."

The thing about darkness was that light was always attracted to it; an opposite that rectified the balance of the world.
Rhys allowed Nik to move him onto the bench with only a minor hiss of protest. His jaw ticked slightly, vision blurring at the edges, and he felt like he might pass out again.
The sound of fabric ripping brought him out of his daze, cerulean orbs flickering to the knife cutting through a shirt sleeve before moving back to the man in front of him. Besides their short time in the car, there hadn't been time to really interact with the man who flirted with the very darkness that sought to destroy him. His gaze followed the outline of his face, strong and defined, as if his features were molded from granite. His dark brows were sloped downwards in a serious expression and his usually playful smile had been drawn into a hard line. His lower lip tucked itself between his teeth--

"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I'm going to need you to..."

Rhys's eyes moved back up to those indigo darts, preparing to say something only to be cut off by the sudden manhandling of his leg. "Jesus fuck! Careful!"
His irritated remark fell on deaf ears as Nik was already moving on to inspect his shoulder. He made a noise, somewhere caught between a huff and a sigh as he looked away from the quasi-devil.

"I'm on the line right now. I think you know what that means. Can you make sure...I don't do something fuckin' stupid?"
That caught his attention.
He turned back to look at the blond, a sort of somber yet contemplative expression morphed across his features. Nik moved beside him and all Rhys could do was watch. That sulfur scent clung to him just as it always did, but there was....something more to it. Rhys could sense that bubbling pit of gooey tar in the man who was very much his counter part. What he was asking made sense. There was no cure, not one they knew of at least, and it was....acceptable to ask that before plunging off into the deep end. His gaze moved to those damned pink sunglasses that hung from the neckline of his shirt. He remembered how happy he had looked, driving with the sun glittering off his blond hair and making Rhys say a stupid into to an equally stupid song...

There was no way.
Whether the asshole knew it or not, he was stuck with this semi-blessed detective. Rhys hadn't had friends in such a long time that he had forgotten what it felt like. He wasn't keen on being alone again.
His gaze moved to the blade picking at the bits of glass that clung to skin, blood pebbling and pooling from where the knife jabbed in. Nik didn't even flinch.

"I...don't want them knowing."

Rhys took a long breath of air, holding the oxygen in his lungs for a moment before letting it blow out of them. Eventually he would be in the same position. It was inevitable, but that didn't mean he liked it. His hand reached out without really thinking about it, gently prying the knife out of Nik's hand as he waited for the other man to meet his gaze.

"You won't do anything stupid. And if you do, I'll kick your fuckin' ass got it?"

Rhys flashed him a quick smile, white teeth briefly visible as his lips stretched upwards. "Enough with the doom and gloom, blondie. You're making me grumpier than usual."
He handed the knife back before he cut himself. Even if what Nik was saying to him made sense, he wasn't going to let it happen. Even if it meant he had to bargain with heaven, he wouldn't let hell take the man who he was starting to consider his friend.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#2a4047; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[CupAndCough]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer
Tags: JustAki Rui Kaas Gravitational Force Epiphany
Mentions:

Companions:
Darius (Following Grigori)
Velska (Inside)

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 D E X 」
◈◈◈◈◈
「 C O N 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 I N T 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

[/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]


The white haired solider, step after step made strides towards his dutiful wards. Darius, who watched over his sister's preparation. Ever watchful, ever attentive. The supplies left to them by Rhys's group offended him very little, if at all. Quite the scavengers. Respect due onto their chances kf surviving the night here. Bleaker than it may seem he tried not to underestimate a person, nor a team. Death was a constant friend to arrogant proclivities, Grigori denied the hosts of order and chaos in his life, but Death? What better friend than a fact of life. Death met the Major more times than he desired, for swathes of flesh rendered limp and pallid, for pleads towards higher powers, and for those who sought the finality of this coil--Death was more than a reality.

Grigori scanned the camp, seeing the work doled out. With careful observation he deduced the actions in which were taken and which goal was finished. To his expectations annoyance, he had yet seen a map produced.

"Lingering, but still produces."From Grigori's throat rumbled a comment, his stance shifting as observations continued. "Darius set upon the bed rolls. If they have anything akin to that lay it encircling the fire. After that take out basic medical supplies. Some hobble too much for my liking." He ordered his subordinate son, met with a nod, setting out to accomplish his task.

"Very little in terms of initiative", Velska mimicked her father's signature deep grumbling sterness, "Fingers-up their as--oh." She paused. Her look upon such juvenile pleading eyes alerted the father. A sliced thumb. Not deep, but not good either. Grigori knelt to his daughter's side and held her hand. Leaving the finished preparations at the side of the flame. His eyes turned from strict and empty pools of dark to glassy stones of a somber pondering. Holding up the hand to her face she understood. Placing the thumb inside her mouth, suck off the blood from the region. Spitting out the crimson salvia into the fire.

"I am s-", She caught her tongue, "It won't happen again sir, I was careless."
"Hush. Still a child, need not give me such lies mixed with false maturity, Velska." He half-assured and half-scolded the young teen. As he took forth first aid from the inner pockets of his coat. He had always kept such things on hand for her, for Darius. They were learning, Darius well old enough to properly understand his role, but Velska? It left him with a heavy mind that all confrontations left her open to wounds and scars. To not feel pain. What God would rob her of a right such as pain?
"I am not a child! Darius is treated like this!",she pouted. Her eyes shifting from her father's visage. Once a cold and warm facade was turned warm and ever so natural of fatherhood. It was a rare moment, but a moment nonetheless she acknowledge that he chose to act on, wrapping her slender childish digits with care and concern

"Darius is almost a man now. You, you have yet to understand what your life will become in a few short years. Change is fast, something I cannot protect you from. You must learn, you must become more aware..", He chided her with a understanding dull reverberation. The dark polished stones shifted to her.
She mumbled forth an acknowledgement in Russian.
And Grigori did so in kind, but a small sound of a correction could be deduced through the foreign speak.

"....sir". She corrected herself, as the imposing figure returned to his common form. His eyes emptying and fading into shades lf oblivion. Grigori thought that empathy burdened him, however the Major of The Marine Corp's Ars Goetia division reflected at what a life that lacked it entailed...

Darius by that point had settled the bedding for the group. Not all of them were there. Grigori analysed the outcome. 'Doubling up?', he inferred.

As the thought ended a massive holler echoed through the building. Perhaps waking up every damn vermin revenant in hiding or nearby. However the voice seem very familiar with the Detective. He looked towards the door, his voice boom back at the Blessed Witch outside.


"That's YOUR Problem!"


Grigori sneered at the the visage of an eerily familiar voodoo man. The remembrance of such ached his head in similiar airs of visions. He called for Rhys, popular man. Adversary or not, he had to attain a field report from the blue eyed commander. Reaching for the radio at his side, Velska placing heavy pot on open flame behind him and wailing witch doctor in front, he clicked the receiver.

"This is Grigori. Come in, over.." He clicked the radio. No answer at first, "This is Grigori, Detective. Recon report requested. Anything of note? Do you have a field report? A...witch doctor has come to see you...over." He rubbed his eyes in exasperation, unable to fully under stand the nature of Rhys's diverse choice in acquaintances. He could hear Darius snickering in the background.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1B1B; box-sizing:border-box; color:#f9f9f9; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: crimson; font-size:3em; font-style:bold; padding:0; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1B1B; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px double crimson; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-size:1.2em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-color:black; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class] [class=magical] margin:auto;center; background:white; opacity:0.5; width:100%; [/class]

 

[Gravitational Force]

Ezra:
Well, the girl had just made this a full on sarcasm war. Time to bring out the nukes.
Ezra put every drop of vicious sarcasm into his voice that he could spare.

"I'll cut you some slack. I'm certain that someone like you, who has survived two years on their own and having to fight for everything would have forgotten their manners. Oh wait, that was me until a few days ago. You've had your group to leech off of during that time. And what exactly have you given them that's offeset the burden of taking you along? Your winning personality? No, you don't have one. Your superhuman abilities? Hmm, nope. Your knowledge and expertise. Obviously not. Congratulations, if you can't name a member of your group less useful than you you're the weakest link."

Ezra layers on Possessed ability to cause emotional pain, layering it into his words so even if she did notice it she'd attribute it to what he said rather than any actual abilities. Even if she did figure out what had happened he could just deny it and if it came to a fight he was certain he could win.

Why couldn't people just be nice to him? It wasn't like he went out of his way to piss them off. Even when he'd stolen from other survivors previously he'd only done it if they were obviously too weak to survive long/stop him if they found out.
CupAndCough

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station > Locker Room From Hell.

OOC:xxxx I'm editing this because it's just too long, and I think I boxed people in, my bad.
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr Lekiel Paarthurnax Anise Chise_Robin_ Hell0NHighWater
BGM:xxxxDRAB MAJESTY - TOO SOON TO TELL



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks] The pain of picking out the glass in his hands was soothing. Mindless, almost. Little jags of emotions, sensations, and meanings. His skin produced something, his body had created a reaction, it made adrenaline pump through his system, and it was methodical. Something that he could do without thinking very much. And the glass needed to come out, or it'd be worse in the long-term. Nik scraped out a particularly large sliver of the stuff and flicked it to the ground with a small crystalline sound, raising his brows slightly.

He most likely could take a gross amount of damage if their war against the evils of this world called for it and still be standing afterwards. His arms were torn up in ways that marred the brilliant tattoos he had once had, and it really didn't phase him all that much, except that he liked the tattoos. It wasn't that he didn't feel pain, he did. But it was a welcome friend, or else he wouldn't have had so many damned pieces of ink on his body in the first place.

Rhys expelled air from his mouth, like he had been holding his breath in. For what purpose, the blond wasn't quite sure, but the man had definitely been studying him with an intense gaze as he had been fixing up the damage that had been done to the Detective. Then he pulled away his blade, and Nik let him, his hands empty, bloody, but most of the shit out of them anyways. Nothing too deep, but he'd have little scars, sure.

He was being careful, he had done this before.

The other man's bright, nearly cyan-colored eyes met his dark blue gaze and Nik looked away, and then back again. Rhys stared, and often. It was a little unsettling, he wasn't used to being stared at. Not that intensely. At least, not in a long time. The only other person who had repeatedly met his gaze with such soul-crushing exactitude had been...well, it was old-hat for him to think on her now. As she was hovering near him, staring at him, mouthing words that he couldn't hear.

"You won't do anything stupid. And if you do, I'll kick your fuckin' ass got it?" Nik caught the barest flash of his smile, and returned his own, muted at first. But then it grew broader, the token up-tilt of a half-smile, warmer, and the same as it had been. If a bit still colored by his somber mood, but it was more vibrant an emotion than he had displayed earlier.

"Got it, Detective." he said with a chuckle, low in his chest, his dark blue eyes gleaming in his gaze. There was a low flame there, it crept in the center of his look, and there it stayed. Like gazing at the blue sky over a palette knife's stroke of gray—rocks, sea kissed—with waves crashing in inlets, greens and blues drifting in the darker waters. Dusk, he'd paint this moment as dusk. But a calm dusk, a pleasant one, with a cornflower blue moon maybe.

Despite all the ails they had faced. Despite Jaemin's exactitude with bringing up their very unconscious friend. Despite her state of current frailty. Despite James' pain. Despite the wounds that fettered them all.

There was a blue here, blue like heaven is, all of the time. Finding respite in a glance. For a moment, it made him self-conscious, and he scanned the room for the others.

It had been a long time since he had thought of pleasant paintings instead of monstrosities of violent pigments splayed out with grit and ruddy red-brown swaths. A very long time.

His own personal warning dipped her head down to look at him, just shy of a few inches away from his face. Bright eyes stared at him, a specter in inks, warbling the line between consciousness and dreams. She was insistent right now, his mind was insistent, that he'd need to escape this place, to keep them safe. Regardless of what Rhys said. The feeling kept ringing, his mind kept playing that idea on repeat, obsessively. And so she stared, and uttered words he could not hear, but knew them in his head. Run. Run fast, run far, and don't stop. Keep them safe, escape, it's too close.

Like a black hole of a sun, he hoped he hadn't caught them in his sphere of influence, just to dash their bodies upon the rocks of the painting in his mind.

"Enough with the doom and gloom, blondie. You're making me grumpier than usual." Nik made an indignant snort and shook his head. He was handed back his knife, which he kept in his grip, but didn't yet start working again. He stared at it, like a promise had just been made. As bright and gleaming as the edge of his blade was now, catching the scar of the low, warbled light.

The specter of his mind urged him with bright eyes, her mouth moving but no sounds coming from between her luscious lips...but he didn't once look at her now. Instead, his gaze traveled back to the detective. There it stayed.

And when he didn't meet her eyes, she became as nothing, falling away like the smoke he did so love to keep in his lungs and throat, and peter away like blissful cancer.

"It's possible to make you more grumpy? Shit," he belted out a genuine laugh. He turned his head to look at the others around him, in various states of distress or perhaps recovered or recovering. Alaska was on the move, following their fearless leader's instructions. Nik's gaze softened when he saw her, and then his eyes cast to James, and he gave a half-smile.

He really didn't want to lose them. He really didn't want to lose himself.

There was a tenderness here. Nik was a vulnerable person, with a heart that loved greatly, frequently, and without regret. Open, warm, and the walls he created were more for them than for him. Unlike many of his companions, it wasn't to protect his ego. It was to protect their lives.

"If anyone is royally fucked, I do have a med-ki—" His words were halted when the radio at his hip blurted out a severe, deep voice that made him instinctively roll his eyes into the back of his head so hard he could create a gravitational orbit.

"This is Grigori. Come in, over.."

"This is Grigori, Detective. Recon report requested. Anything of note? Do you have a field report? A...witch doctor has come to see you...over." Nik snorted to himself, and mouthed the words "field report" with his grin cracking across his face like white lightning. They weren't in the fucking military. He wanted to respond with a scathing retort, but he decided that it'd be better if Rhys took the reigns. He was their fearless leader, after all.

He handed the other man the radio and grinned, going back to dealing with the splintered shards in his hands.

"Sounds like...I mean, I thought he was dead," Nik offered, a smile blooming on his face. He had finally managed to scrape out the flecks of glass from his skin. Hands bloodied, he stole away into his bag and poured disinfectant on his hands, and wiped them off with the baby pink towel he had managed to find. It mirrored the color of the glasses hanging off the neckline of his shirt. But now muddied, staining the towel almost magenta in ways.

Nik opened up his med kit and sat it next to him, then placed his knife away in the makeshift holster on his belt. If anyone needed him to play Mom right now, he'd be more than happy, but also didn't want to impose or assume that perhaps Jaemin or Luiza needed his attention.

His arms and hands ached with the gouges of hell hound teeth and gnarled nail-drags of Revenant attacks. His fingers hurt from his own self-imposed masochism. The glass hadn't hurt nearly as bad as his near surgically precise way he had dug clean the glass that had assailed him. He flexed his fingers and mulled his lower lip over between his teeth. The bleeding was minor, but he kept the towel on those hands.

Those hands that had once painted the mystery called life, in all its gorgeous blue hues and earthen tones. He had never really meant to be a warrior, he felt.

But in the time of now, in the time of burned holy works, eating into the oils like whicked wildfire, in the time of brimstone and terror, of fast friends and even faster enemies, and of a fate he still felt he couldn't escape, he had become one.

He winced, and wondered how it could've been, had they all met under very different circumstances. Perhaps under the pulsing magenta and cyan lights of the nightclubs he frequented, perhaps as friends not just in arms but as friends in banter around hot coffee, cold nights, and warm embraces. A romantic at heart. Such a rare thing in this time of now.

Nik placed his red stained towel at his side and stood to the lockers adjacent them, one still standing, half-opened and cracked with a blow from the Bell Witch. He found a few bottles of pills, nothing very impressive, but a bottle of multivitamins, and Ibuprofen laced with a headier analgesic that made one heavy with sleep. A bit too overkill but it worked. He placed it in his bag. Nothing much else but shaving cream, which was a boon, and a roll of toilet paper.

He'd save that for Ezra, since he seemed fucking obsessed with it.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

 

[Lakyr]

James
Chise_Robin_

They had survived another fight and even though most of them were in pain, that was a reason to be happy. "Let's just hope this was the last fight for today." he just said it, not loud and not directed to anyone, just stating what they all must've been thinking. Pain again shot through his shoulder and arm as he wanted to move it to get his backpack off. Crap, why did it have to be his right arm? It always had to be the right arm ... He let it slide off his back and to the ground carefully as Rhys requested the doors into the gym to be secured.

James was walking over a tad behind Alaska who was already heading in to close the doors, as he heard a short laugh. Turning his head into its direction he saw Nik next to Rhys, it just seemed like that guy could always laugh. James returned the half smile before looking towards Alaska again, who was now throwing him a concerned look. She stepped towards him and reached out for his shoulder, his first instinct was to back away but her touch was soft and so he remained still.

''Are....are you ok?''
He lost himself in her eyes as he thought about the question for a second. He thought about what this group had already gone through. They weren't really okay, how were they supposed to be, but they were alive and that is what mattered. "Not really okay, but we're alive. That's a reason to celebrate." He cast a quick smile upon his face before he flinched at the pain once more. He just nodded at her comment about the bitch getting what she deserved. Honest gratitude painted itself across his features as she offered her help. "Yeah, actually I could really use help with it." He wasn't looking forward to the pain, but it'd be nice to be able to move his arm again.

 

[Silent Mimic]

Lilina Ovelia
​

"I wonder what time it is." A girl said to herself as she was exploring the barren wasteland of glistening snow. Lily was just finishing collecting supplies from another group as she encountered a group of humans that seemed to work together. She watched them from afar, wondering if their supply of food is plenty. She started to feel cold since her little dress was not fit for the cold and harsh flurry of snow. She proceeded to enter the premises of the building but tried to not be seen by the survivors. She sneaked successfully inside the building and proceeded to take out her stuffed rabbit and hold it tight to her flat chest. She drank water and ate her last supply of food, some chocolate chip cookies when she became comfortable inside the station. Her stomach was rumbling a bit but this did not bother her. Her dress had been stained a little with blood but she hoped that it won't become a problem. She was hoping to find some source of food inside the camp since her supply already ran out. Lily observed the group from the inside, trying to find moments where she could possibly obtain the food.

 

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

mentions: Lakyr
location: GYM doors
BGM:

''"Yeah, actually I could really use help with it." The pain on his face was apparent but he was trying to be cheerful about it. She realized then how strong James really was and returned his smile. He was right.... this was going to hurt.

Nik's voice came from a distance, and some radio sounds from Grigori, this made her feel more releaved to at least hope that the others were alright.

Alaska had him lie on the ground, careful not o make any sudden moves so he wouldn't be in a lot of pain. She sat by him and slowly guided his right arm arm horizontally away from his body until it’s about forty-five degrees from his side, being careful not to force it. The adrenaline now numbing the burn on her neck.

Alaska had a problem with pain when it wasn't her who's suffering, she could handle being hurt, or tortured. But when it was someone in front of her who's in pain, it felt like someone was stabbing her right in her heart, she felt incapable of releasing them from their pain.

She grabbed his hand gently, a look of worry on her face as she held it, her eyes wondered to James' ''Screaming dulls the pain a little'' with that said, Alaska started pullin his arm toward her firmly and steadily, staying in that forty-five-degree angle. She was trying to get the muscle to give just enough that the head of the humerus moves beyond the lip of the shoulder cup. She held it in that position for five minutes trying to allow the shoulder to spontaneously relocate. The pain must have been severe for the young hunter, Alaska's eyes were firmly shot till she heard a faint pop. She slowly let go of james' hand and folded her arms in her lap. ''we need to find something to tie that arm with...You shouldn't move it for a while''

Next to the doors of the gym there stood a tall cupboard that once contained the trophies and cups of compatitions held between county police stations. The glass of the cupboard and most of the trophies were broken, an ideal item to block the door with.
Walking towards the cupoard, Alaska put both her hands on it and started pushing, trying to knock it over. '' If we can just.....push this....goddamn thing!" James' right arm was in no condition to help but he could probably do more pushing with one hand than she could with both..muscle power was something lacked, making p for it with excellent shooting

 

[CupAndCough]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer / Parking Lot
Tags: Gravitational Force Silent Mimic
Companions:
Darius
Velska

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 D E X 」
◈◈◈◈◈
「 C O N 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 I N T 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

[/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Erza's returned fire for the earlier comments, his vitrol and anger spewing forth his words, the appearance before Grigori and Velska was aburpt to their small surprise. It was harsh and unrelenting. Velska stared at the boy, her general apathy shifting between hues of emotion. A dark vibrancy compounded his words, but seemingly overwhelmed coherence of such sarcastic retorts. Emotions where nary expressed well with Grigori's tutelage. Despite her overwhelming remorse and guilt, it felt as if she had lost something. An argument? A violation of herself? The young teen refused to compromise her face. With furrowed brows ever so tightly she asked for resolve. 'Never show your hand. Don't give them a weakness', she thought. Teachings and heavy emotions fought amongst the confines of her mind. Which would win?

"много шаров, чтобы просто сука [TL: lot of balls, to just bitch]", she lifted her head from gazing at the stew that was nearing completion., "file a complaint."[/b]. She conducted herself against her emotion, but with a hit of watering eyes she belied that the emotional manipulation from the afflicted had taken affect.

The dark soldier watched as the young man berate his daughter without much understanding to the arrangements of who she was to Grigori, and the value she had to him. It was very easily more than a sparse few bodies here. The emotions fed into him, enraging his prophet's empathy only to be subject to bias.
The flames of fire behind him casted a shadow over him and the shouting afflicted before him. From ebon castings, a veil of killing intent wafting the fumes of ashen black-charred bodies, blood, and the overcast of terrible enormity beared down upon Erza. Grigori was not a demon. Had no powers of one, but as the abyssal pupil widened and face obscured by malefic shadows rose there was hardly a discernible difference. Putrid memories of foul smelling wet iron amalgamated with the singed flesh. War. Wrath. Detest of Life. Death exploded from the aura of Grigori. He was not a demon. Grigori was a man, perhaps the worst creature God gave birth to, Grigori represented the choice of malice, of asunderimg flesh against morality. Of creating hell on earth for a very special few, He wasn't a demon. But when humanity softly tucked their heads to sleep at night--he took the safety from those sent onto him: guilty or innocent. He wasn't a demon, worse--He was Man.

He peered at boy, an arm jutted forth to keep his distance from the daughter. The steel like bone and sinew halted any advance. Uncompromising force. A simple gesture of, 'Don't Cross.'. From the dark it looked as if the man was a monster, a hulk of flesh and death.

Then she spoke. He peered towards, Velska. Guilt, but tears--but unrelenting choice to not be tied down to such emotions. Close ever so to him, but not quite. In a way she touched a sense of respect for resisting to show weakness. As Russian left her lips the argument was more fit to be over now than ever--a disgusting comment, he had just about enough.

"ENOUGH!", It was as if thunder had striked down upon the three. The fires rose in the cacophony of sound. A father. A murderer and soldier. A man dominating the air., "Silence! Both of you!". It was brief, curt, filled with the world of hate he carried...

"You.", He looked to Velska, his eyes burning brighter than hellfires. "You will apologize for your mouth and insubordination!".
Velska dared not engage his ire. Life was too precious for her not to.
"And you, what may have gone on here is well behind. Both of you will sit down and rectify anything you have said to one another--Clean. Slate." It was not an order that thrusted upon the two of them, it was a prophetic vision. If they knew what was good. He snatched a bowl from Velska's hands. And replaced his bulwark of an arm against Erza's chest.

"Discuss it over dinner." , He finalized as the stew pot burst open with a billow of steam. With that a terrified Darius looked from the very easily ruined safety of a few feet to speak up--"D-Dinner's ready!"


As Darius spoke a small figure caught his eye. Too purposeful for a demon or revenant. He snatched the hand of his daughter and briskly ripped her away from the scene. "Darius, you serve. Now.", Darius very much aligned with much higher judgments followed the order as Stew-Master. Glamorous work.

The father dragged the daughter towards the spy's location, "I'm disappointed in you Velska. у нас есть шпион [TL: We have a spy]", Grigori snarled, "What possesses you to be so reckless? Не двигайтесь, если я не прикажу вам [TL: Do not move unless I order you.]" The two halted near the shadowed location of Lilina. For a few moment of Russian speak he chided her, scolding on her on temperaments and childish tomfoolery. It was cutting to say the least. Much more an assault than Erza was willing to provide. But as he did, he observed the being ever so close to him, a quick draw. A black gun hidden in darkness. Her eyes met his.

A young girl no older than Velska sat, clothes bloodied and rations low. A sigh, "You got a name?" He sought to startle her from the darkness.



[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1B1B; box-sizing:border-box; color:#f9f9f9; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: crimson; font-size:3em; font-style:bold; padding:0; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1B1B; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px double crimson; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-size:1.2em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-color:black; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class] [class=magical] margin:auto;center; background:white; opacity:0.5; width:100%; [/class]

 

[Anise]

Kayden Julian Huang​

Tags: EVERYONE


"Alaska, Jaemin, James, Reverie, Luiza, and Nik come with me. We'll get the locker rooms cleared out," the sharp voice of their fearless leader cut through the silence, snapping Kayden from his thoughts. He nodded in confirmation and followed the small group to the locker rooms.

The group entered the dark, depressing, expressionless, dusty, smelly and dirty old locker room, when Kayden's blue irises started darting around the place, looking for a possible threat. Although exhausted, the freckled hunter kept a mental reminder to stay alert. Now peaceful looking room could suddenly turn into a morgue, their bodies scattered around the place. Kayden sighed and shook his head.
The freckled boy tucked his icy hands deep inside the soft pocket of his comfortable, over-sized yellow hoodie, warming them a little. He was cold. Really cold.
The group split up and everyone started to rummage the place.

Kayden started to search through the dusty old bags when he found a recipe book. His eyes lit up with excitement. God he missed cooking. He brushed the dusty covers of the book and started turning the pages over, when a familiar voice crept into his ears. It felt like a light breeze at first, sending shivers down his spine. Was his mind just playing tricks on him? Maybe, it was true that he didn't get any shut eye the last couple of days, but still. Kayden shook his head. The sudden dizziness caught him off guard. Everything started dancing in front of his eyes, the faces of his allies blurred out, his body trembling, radiating a feverish heat. He put his hand to his forehead, measuring his temperature, when the whispers came back. The whispers of a girl he once knew…

…Alicia. Hearing the violin in her voice, the flow of her words ever so sweet as they flew into the hunter's ears. The cold ran down his neck as she stood in front of him, her pale hands held out at him, a smile on her face. Kayden could hear the music box they used to play with when they were little. So stupid and so young they were, dancing to the melody of the wind running wild through the branches of the mighty trees. Every day they climbed to the old farm house's roof, catching the last glimpse of the Sun as it kissed their cheeks and coloured their locks into dark orange. They were lost dreamers, lost cases. Nobody understood how they felt and nobody ever tried to understand.
Their heads were always somewhere in the clouds, as they listened to some classical music and looked at the onyx night sky covered in stars. That was his life in Canada. The life that was slowly ripped to the shreds.
They kept in touch, writing letters to each other when one day her family knocked on the door. They were all in black, their heads bent down. Her mother in tears, while her father gave him the envelope. It was her last message to him, a farewell to an old friend. She fought with depression for a very long time and this was the time when she gave up, when she lost the battle.
Now looking at her face again came with a feeling of a thousand knives being stabbed into his heart. The vision of his late friend playing in front of his eyes, teasing him. Her hands moving closer to his face when they touched his cheeks, marking the right one with a cut. Blood now covering her clothes as her face started to decay, now turning into someone else. "S-Sam?"Kayden whispered, looking at his green eyed friend in terror.

Kayden's chest started to hurt. He couldn't move. Me couldn't speak. He just stood there, petrified, haunted by the vision of his best friend. The one he met shortly after Alicia's death. The one that he saw in James' smile. The one that- "Fuck no,"another whisper came from his mouth.

"How could you let me die? I trusted you. It was your fault. It is always your fault. See them? " The creature pointed towards the burred figures of his group, "Every single one of them, including you, will die. You can't save the-"
"IRON!"
A high-pitched scream echoed through the walls, saving Kayden from the poisonous words that tainted his soul. The creature suddenly vanished and it all went quiet. Was it over? Kayden clung to his chests "Sorry, I'm so fucking sorry -" Then he was snapped out of it by the voice of a part-time devil, "We've got an unconscious witch and a detective that's been fucked up by a hellish ghost-I'm uncultured. Jaemin, grab Rev. I'll lug this poor bastard around," Kayden pinched his arm just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating anymore. His eyes looked over at the lifeless body lying on the floor and then glanced back at Nik. He nodded and approached the witch, his mind still in confusion. He picked up Reverie and held her to the base camp, his legs shaking with every step he made, the feverish heat still radiating from his skin. He finally made it to the other group and called out for help, " Help! She's unconscious! " Whoa, that was awkward, but he really didn't know how to put it differently. The girl was really unconscious and she really needed help, so fuck it. He looked around the room, hoping that someone would answer his prayers and that that someone wouldn't notice he was in bad condition himself.

 

[Silent Mimic]

Lilina Ovelia
​

As the girl was starting to get comfortable in the old and dark police station, she noticed that a man, a female, and a male teenager noticed her. She prepared her gun that was not that well-hidden but the man suddenly asked Lily, "You got a name?" in which the little witch responded, "I am just a wanderer, I have nothing to give except my services if you help me by giving me food." As she proceeded to stand and hold her gun in her left hand. She then prepared her fire magic but she realized it was not for the best regarding her situation and proceeded to unready her flame. 'Darn, I could control that flame over there and burn his face off but he may dodge it quickly.' She thought as she hold her stuffed rabbit even tighter to her chest. Her crimson red eyes just stared him, waiting for an approval to the question. "Lilina Ovelia, you can just call me Lily for short." She said as her finger was starting to become trigger-happy. She resisted the urge to kill them and proceeds to cooperate with the trio. She saw a revenant near them and decided to kill it with fire. Lily dropped her rabbit and let her left hand do the work. The revenant was screaming and rolling on the floor while Lily watched with amusement. She proceeded to control the flame, making it burn brighter and hotter. The revenant was already in pain but it suffered more as the fire burned brighter.

CupAndCough

 

[Lakyr]

James
Chise_Robin_ BasiliskVeranda

Here we go again. He was lying on the cold floor as Alaska carefully guided his arm upwards. "Don't worry about hurting me, I won't take it personally." He wasn't looking forward to this, but it had to happen. He waited for her to start every second now, but then she raised her voice once more, ''Screaming dulls the pain a little'' Being loud could cause more trouble though. "Alright, but I'll try not to attract any un -" the pain cut him off as Alaska started pulling and he was clenching his teeth and groaning in order not to howl in agony. He started kicking the ground repeatedly, welcoming the short stings of pain that shot through his toes as a faint distraction from the wildfire he felt going on in his shoulder. "Shit fuck DANG IT!" he finally yelled out and pressed his teeth together with all his might again afterward, restraining his voice into a relatively low rumble again as he started blurting out a surge of curses, "dumb ugly ghost-bitch, craprabbit, shite-nugget, arsebadger," He just kept going, his voice becoming a tad louder with every word said.

Why the hell does this take so long? He felt like he was lying there for more than just a few minutes already, constantly coming up with new word combinations. At some point, he laughed like a madman for a few seconds. He grew quiet after this, still bashing his feet into the ground over and over again. Suddenly he felt his shoulder pop back in with another burst of pain but then a feeling of sudden relief. The pain wasn't gone but he felt so much better, a warmth was now flowing through and radiating from his shoulder. He turned around to lie on his back and exhaled. "Thank you." he barely got the words out as he looked Alaska in the eyes and tried to smile, a few beads of sweat on his face.

''we need to find something to tie that arm with...You shouldn't move it for a while''
"Yeah ... and let's never fight something like this again." James started to get up and tried moving his shoulder around a bit. He saw Alaska walking towards a cupboard right next to the doors they were supposed to block. He stepped over quickly and put his left forearm against it above her hands. It wasn't that difficult for the two of them to cause it to topple over, he made a quick step back as it crashed into the ground with a booming sound. Some glass splintered across the floor and the doors to the gym were secured, James just hoped that nothing too big was attracted by the ruckus they've made. He looked at Alaska again and started talking, "I don't think we can get these doors anymore secure. Thanks for the help again, I'll go and ask Nik if he got anything in that med-kit to make me a sling." He turned around and walked through the room, looking around at the mess that thing had made until he came close to Nik who was looking through lockers again. "Hey, you found a med-kit or something? Maybe got anything to tie my arm with?" James asked before he sat down on a bank, "Or at least some disinfectant to clean up hell hound bite wounds? I don't even want to know what kind of diseases those things spread."

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText] Location: Not so Haunted Locker-room >Lobby >???
Tags: Major Irritation CupAndCough |Blondie BasiliskVeranda | Child Silent Mimic | I-thought-this-guy-was-dead? Kaas
Mentions: Jams, Alaska, Jaemin, Reverie
BGM: Incubus
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He hadn't expected that laugh or the crooked smile that accompanied it. It made him look younger when he smiled like that, a little less like a man who pretended that he wanted to be dragged to hell. The side of his own mouth lifted a little in response, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Rhys didn't miss the softness that had entered those indigo pools, but he also didn't call attention to it. There was something admirable in the way that he wanted to protect these kids...even if it was from himself. Rhys understood that, probably more than anyone, so perhaps that was why his heart clenched a bit uncomfortably when he thought about the inevitable.

Rhys gazed at him out of the corner of his eye, amusement twinkling in the depths of cerulean. "What can I say? I'm the King of being Grumpy."
His shoulders lifted in nonchalance, a bit of pain shooting through the one with the open wound. He payed no mind to it, trying to ignore the tingling situation that weaved its way down the nerves in his arm. Once Alaska and James took care of the doors, he should probably come back and see if he could stitch it up. It wouldn't be pretty, and he would probably need some alcohol to numb the pain, but at least he wouldn't be bleeding all over his shirts. When he had put the sweatshirt on he had been hoping for some relief against the sticky, wet, feeling but he had only somehow managed to make it worse.

"Ni-" Whatever he was about to say was cut off from the crackling of the radio.
"This is Grigori. Come in, over.."
Rhys inhaled sharply, a bit of an annoyed look marring his features.
"This is Grigori, Detective. Recon report requested. Anything of note? Do you have a field report? A...witch doctor has come to see you...over."
His gaze caught Nik's, watching as he mocked Grigori's words. Normally he would have laughed, perhaps if he wasn't feeling the pain in his shoulder he might have indulged the blond, instead he rolled his eyes and took the radio that was handed back to him.

"I'm not a detective anymore, Grigori. Rhys will do. The locker room has been cleared, we're locking down the entrances to the gymnasium," He took a quick glance over his shoulder, watching Jaemin pick up Reverie and move out of the room. "There's an injured coming your way, make sure that Emma is available. If not, see what you can do." Rhys took another pause, brows furrowing as his gaze traveled to Nik almost as if he were asking him if he really heard that last part right. "Did you say a witch doctor? Over." His thumb released the button in order to listen to the response. A witch doctor? He only knew one man who could be described as that....but...he was dead wasn't he?

While he sat in confusion, his blond counterpart had stood to rummage through the lockers. Although Rhys didn't turn to watch, he could hear his sneakers squeak against the tile slightly as he moved and the creaking of metal as he opened locker doors. Rhys shifted a bit on the bench, trying to test weight on his leg without really standing. A frown twitched at his lips, "Hey, Blondie, give me a hand." Rhys turned slightly, extending his hand out in hope that the quasi-devil would get his meaning. He hoped that it was just a deep cut, one that hurt like a bitch, and wouldn't be something that would keep him from standing on his own for a while. He should be getting back, see what fortress the soldier had rigged up, tend to his dumbass shoulder, get some food, and maybe, just maybe, have a decent night's sleep. He could confront the other issues when he was more awake...and when he wasn't feeling quite so useless.

As soon as Nik pulled him to his feet, he hobbled a little, grimacing against the sensation but not outwardly showing the level of pain he was actually in.
"Thanks.."
Blue eyes peered up into his own and he swore the beat of his heart stuttered.
This was dangerous.
"Hey, you found a med-kit or something? Maybe got anything to tie my arm with?"
James's voice broke...whatever that was and Rhys pulled away as quick as he could without falling over. Heat gathered in his cheeks. He turned before the others could notice and began limping back towards the main lobby. It was slow going and he was using the wall more often than he would have liked, but at least he was on his feet.

The scent of food was mouth watering.
His stomach agreed.
Rhys turned the corner, an instant wave of relief flooded through him at what looked to be a rather decent camp site. At least for now. He was almost positive the further they went into the station the more resources they would find. His brows drew together, a shriek filled the air and the stench of burning flesh masked whatever heavenly aroma had triggered his appetite. Who the fuck was burning bodies inside!?
Anger coiled inside him, a emotion that he was having less and less control over the more tired he became.

"What the fuck are you guys doing!? Don't burn Rev--"

He cut himself off mid lecture. Noting the small girl next to Grig's imposing presence. He was too tired for this shit. Running a hand over his face, he shook his head, waiting for the fire to die down before moving towards the front door. "Listen, kid, I don't know who you are, but you can't just burn bodies inside! Do you know what else could be in here!?"
Whatever calming techniques he was trying to use obviously weren't working.
Rhys pulled open the front door, pointing out to the snowy landscape with the rolling black clouds. Frozen air shot through, wrapping around him and chilling him to the bone.
"Burn. Outside."
He turned his head as if to exaggerate the point only to notice a tall man standing a couple inches from his extended finger. Rhys's expression soured, glaring towards the face with a painted skull.
"Oh for fucks sake!" He didn't know if he should be elated or aggravated. His brain just wasn't functioning correctly. He stepped aside for Adisa then slammed the door shut behind him.

Rhys whirled on Grigori, practically chucking the radio back at him.
He didn't offer an explanation.
He just stalked off, smoke practically billowing out of his ears.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#2a4047; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]



NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx Locker Room not so much from hell > HQ

OOC:xxxx get these kids a shower, food, and a SLEEP pls. I'm getting them close enough in case yall wanted to chat but if you wanted to pop forward we can do that too, rahh
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr Hell0NHighWater Chise_Robin_
BGM:xxxxFOO FIGHTERS - LEARN TO FLY



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks] Nik managed to score another lighter in his rifling through the various lockers, which was a boon simply for the lighter fluid alone. He now had the other lighter, multivitamins, a pink towel that he had since ruined, a few other towels, and an ibuprofen that could knock you on your ass in 20 minutes or less. Out like a light, sleeping like a babe, or if your adrenaline was pumping too fiercely, you may just feel mellow enough that you'd swear you'd just been hot-boxed in a warm, comfortable car.

Though he didn't spend a great deal of time thinking ahead, he knew this would be a boon. If only to help get someone to sleep, and safely.

"Hey, Blondie, give me a hand." Nik swiveled, quickly stuffed the other things he had found into his obnoxious green backpack, and obliged, graciously.
"Blondie?" he asked with his token smirk. He really liked that nickname. He was partial to that era of music, and took it as a great compliment, which he was unsure Rhys knew. That nickname alone had won over the blond in a way he couldn't articulate at the moment. And he smiled.

Something small, a little more mute than he was used to, and warm. The corner of his mouth twitched, the lip curling in a lilt, almost as though he were about to make some catty, rambunctious joke, but it never came. No words spilled from his lips, no ire, no scathing quip. It was the glee before the joke that Rhys was seeing, with no follow-through of the performance. Just the lilt, and it grew as the blond looked at the other man for far too many seconds.

Something like a soft glow around a matte fluorescent lamp that rose in light with a dimmer switch, it petered up as each microsecond passed, until it was loud, and hardly subtle.

Nik was staring, he wasn't bashful, and he was fine with the broiling pink of the detective's face creeping into view with each passing second. He took deliberate glee in standing far too close, because he was, on some level, an antagonist in the grand design of their story. If a playful one, who liked to see other people fluster.

"Thanks.." This was dangerous. He was spending far too much time staring at the curve of the other man's brow, and his strong jaw. But like a moth pinging at the clear panes of a window, trying to get to that soft afterglow. Nik was, in his own way, dauntless. And...

He liked dangerous.

"Hey, you found a med-kit or something? Maybe got anything to tie my arm with?" Nik let a sound out from his mouth like an irritated hum or a grumble, low and grating in his throat, and his eyes raked across the haphazard locker room landscape to rest on James' face. His brows were angled just ever so slightly downwards as to show he was mildly annoyed.

Rhys took that moment to bolt, like some sort of teenager caught in too-close proximity, or perhaps doing something he shouldn't be doing. Which, considering what Rhys had shouted out, maybe that was close to the mark, to be plain. That was a shame, indeed. Whatever the Bell Witch had flung at him was just...tragic. Even if he didn't know all of what it had been, he knew a part of it. A very prickly, particular sentence.

The Detective fled the scene of the crime on a limp, leaving Nik to let out an exasperated sigh. Nik returned to making an annoyed grumble, his lips flattening into the human personification of muted annoyance, but he obliged his young friend, because he was in need of his...rather shitty medical assistance.

He really wasn't that good at stuff like this, honestly. He had given Alaska great stitches, but it wasn't like he excelled in mending anybody.

"I..." Nik looked over his younger friend and chewed his lower lip in contemplation, having to switch gears between the prior event and this one, his brain hitching.
"I'm...not a miracle worker, but I'll do what I can," he said this with a laugh to let James know that he was in jovial spirits yet again. Rifling through his backpack he removed one of the towels he had previously placed within it, found it was untouched and far cleaner and dryer than possibly anything on any of their bodies, and smiled.

"Let's get that disinfected first. Don't want you losing both your goddamn arms because a colony of bacteria decided to claim victory over your limbs." The blond said with a snort, getting to work without skipping a beat. It would sting, it would be fiercely painful, but at least James wouldn't have to worry about bacteria growing functional life, forming colonies, and blasting off into the stratosphere once they got to a higher plane of sentiency.

When that was done, he patched up his friend as best he could with whatever remaining gauzes and bandages he had, and the made a makeshift sling of the only thoroughly clean item he was sure any of them had at the moment. He tied the knot behind his neck, made sure everything was sound, and closed up his med kit. The bag came next, and he filled with whatever he had left lying around.

He hoisted it over both his shoulders, and then placed the obnoxious baby-pink sunglasses on his face once more.

Nik started his walk from the locker room, with James hopefully still at his side. He also hoped Alaska would come shortly after, as they had been in this locker room from hell for far too fucking long.

As they neared their designated camp, the foyer in all its glory, Nik tilted James a grin, and had one tiny, tiny request.

"Man, I'm glad to call you my friend. I hope you know that. But, please, for the love of rock and roll, learn to read the room," he said with a snort, before plugging up his grin with a cigarette, and lighting it. He'd been running through them quite a bit lately...

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Smoke fell around his head in waves and he walked onwards.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

 

[Gravitational Force]

Ezra:
Ezra didn't like getting pushed around by the cult dude, but he backed down because shit that guy was intense. No telling what kind of BS he could pull.

Grabbing his bowl of stew, Ezra sat across from the girl who'd made the mistake of dissing him. Getting her cult daddy mad at her served her right. Still he could add some more shit to her pile.
Picking up his bowl slowly and deliberately Ezra tried some with his spoon. He always did this with new food, it saved time. If it was good enough to take time eating he'd do it, otherwise he'd gulp it all down and hope he didn't taste enough that he vomited.

The stew was decent, but Ezra was hungry. Putting down his spoon he started drinking directly from the bowl, never breaking eye contact with the Girl Cult Scout.

Finishing quickly, Ezra picked his spoon back up. And. Then. Slowly. And. Deliberately. He. Scraped. It. On. The. Inside. Of. The. Bowl. As. If. Scraping. Up. The. Last. Bit. Of. Stew. Never breaking eye contact. From his judgement her snapping wouldn't be a problem for him.

CupAndCough

 

[CupAndCough]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer / Parking Lot
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force Epiphany
Mentions:

Companions:
Darius (Following Grigori)
Velska (Inside)

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 D E X 」
◈◈◈◈◈
「 C O N 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 I N T 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

[/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Grigori keot his near-ebon eyes upon Lilina. Unmoving. For the recent moment, his turnoil had not changed. Much to his very harsh annoyance. Lilina's pyromancy that was wrought upon the revenant did get a reaction from Velska. It was mix of a sneer and utter revulsion. It was in the middle of ther camp. Could they have just told her father to kill the vermin instead? It was messy, unclean, and it really took away from her cooking.
"Was that really necessary?", Velska interrogated, "Our food is stewing there. You could have very easily told my father to neu-nu..uh neutr--"
Grigori sighed, listening to her struggle as he holstered his gun away. His gaze transfixed on the witch, scanning her for a threat assessment. "Neutralized?"
"Yeah, that!"

Grigori's massive frame did not relax, but it did become less aggressive. She had killed a foe, and if there was to be a scene witha dead teenager by his hand The Detective would not be so kind afterwards. He sneered and motioned his head towards the campsite. His unwavering sterness punctuated with a command and not pleasantries.
"Sit down. Grab a bowl. Use one.", Brief and bare--was all that was needed from him, "Velska, lead her to the group. Stay in my line of sight." As his commands boomed static came forth on the radio. It seems someone was trying to contact him. Ripping the radio from his belt he held, peering at coming injured being funnelled from the direction of the locker room. Eyes focused on the injured and unconscious. It seems that his hunch was more than justified. However a revenant does not leave one unconscious, Grigori's lips thinned and eye brows furrowed. As he held the radio he scanned aching scar. From brow to jaw. He let forth a small amused chuckle. This horrid station would be a fine battlefield....


Grigori watched as the fearless leader shuffled forth from the locker room hell, with a menagerie of souls. He knew little of their names, but the man who seemed like he got into a vicious fight with a booze, regret, and a host of other issues seemed worse for wear, clearly Rhys would be rather agitiated at the scenario. Perhaps angry that his life partner, Nik appeared like he was one foot on the devil's gates.. The weariness written upon his face was palpable, it was downright telepathic. Grigori looked to the young witch, "That is the base camp leader. Well, not for me--for them, I am Salvadore Grigori, Ms. .", he alluded to the group behind him. His introduction was brief to say the least, the aura of horrifying man-slayer never truly left, much despite his holstering of the black desert eagle. However his form still spoke so harshly of a creature always ready to slay his foes, or would be ones

Rhys's shoutings of exasperations and confusion tired him as he scolded the teen. He looked towards the girl, and jerked his head toward the camp

"Follow Velska, be off with you." He commanded.

---

Velska walked towards the camp, hoping the young witch would follow in toe, stepping over the body Liina freshly charred. She scrunched her nose at the sight. 'I really hope this doesn't over power the smell of my cooking.', she whined within the safety of her thoughts. She had a long enough day, and in fact desired sleep more than anything. Darius watched his sister lead the young witch, his eyes arched as he scanned the body and the witch. It was not hard to decipher the cause nor was it very subtle.
"It seems the group piles on. .", The tall, dark, young adult spoke to his pouting sister--Darius sought nothing more than to ease the tension. He still had trouble believing his father's words, very little observations his father made became wrong (if at all), Darius wanted to sleep with a knife at his side...not in it.
"He's still mad."
"At you, he's mad specifically at you.", the elder sibling corrected her. Only to be met with a scoff and a subsequent stopping of boorish marching stomps as she snatched a bowl.
"Stew." She commanded as her elder brother held a ladle unmoving. A smugness very easily consumed him, he said nothing., "I said Stew!"
A smirk replied, punctuated with a "A stew? A stew what? Oh you mean this? The stew you made? I don't what yer asking, sorry!"
Velska mumbled forth a reply, breaking eye contact with the ever snickering Darius.
"Hrm? Pipe up."
"I would like..", She rolled her eyes and her face became a baleful series of facial exaggerations at the bane of her great and powerful patience. "A. Stew. PLEASE." Velska hissed. With snickering and smug eyes he brother pour a bowl of the warm-soup-paradise in this cold wasteland. A moment of respite overcame her as she smelled the much needed reminder of humanity's greatest accomplishments, good food. However as a quick glance to her father happened, an austere return from Grigori communicated to her.
'Sit down'. It seemingly spoke. She did not seek to meet the ire once more. Sitting far from Ezra. A head jerk and eyes a fire wrote a message within her skull
'Sit next to the boy', the voiceless command was invoked as he listened to the radio call, Velska's face implored a bit of mercy. There was none.

With a rebellious and disdainful thud, she plopped beside Ezra. Her shoulders a magazine thickness away. It was apology time--how would Ezra react?

---

Grigori hauled the charred corpse. His leather gloves gripping the spinal column. It was within these actions he found memories of the horrible actions he part took in long ago. Only for it to be unpunished. What god would make a world like this? An overseer of carnage and misery, what a charade the faith that those laid their lives for, onto that thing . Grigori grimmace, his hand clenching the corpse as he passed by Adisa being led by the Detective. The witch-doctor was strange, but the strangeness lasted beyond that. His visage was familiar.

He put such thoughts behind, tossing the body in a might swing. Only to watch Emma sprint towards the wounded. Her sights set on Reverie.

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1B1B; box-sizing:border-box; color:#f9f9f9; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: crimson; font-size:3em; font-style:bold; padding:0; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1B1B; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px double crimson; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-size:1.2em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-color:black; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class] [class=magical] margin:auto;center; background:white; opacity:0.5; width:100%; [/class]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

mentions: Lakyr Hell0NHighWater CupAndCough Gravitational Force
location: the police academy
BGM:

With the door now blocked, Alaska went back to the locker room to collect her backpack, and a few blue towels that had the police station's logo on them. She headed back to the camp, smiling at Rhys's exasperation with the new girl: "you know you're slowly turning into a mom right?'' she joked knowing the importance of the situation, what was done was done though. The smell of the dead revenant now filled the air mixed with the delicious stew someone had prepared.

The camp looked in a top notch condition. Bedding posts spread on the floor and it was warm. Alaska observed the interaction between Ezra and Griggs' follower, not interfering.

The young hunter put the items gathered from the lockers on one of the bed sacks telling everyone to come and choose from them. More towels, bullets, and a flask of burbon. She then took a towel and the baby shampoo along with the sweater and the jeans she found and headed to the shower rooms.

The icy cold water came as a shock at first but she felt extremely relieved to replace the blood and sweat smells with the smell of the shampoo and raspberry shower jell...she missed the little things.

The burn mark that the witch left on her neck now felt better under the cold water, she would have to wrap something around it after she finished. Alaska now took her pocket knife and trimmed the edges of her light brown hair which felt so soft and lively after the well deserved shower.It was so good that she didn't want to get out, the cold water made adrenaline pump with blood through her viens.


Water sounds came from the other cabinets, and pleasant smells of soap and shampoo. Alaska now stepped out of the cabinet, a towel wrapped around her thin body, her fresh cut hair dripping with water. She was so happy while applying the make up in front of the broken mirror, it was so subtle, a hint of mascara and some faint colored lipstick.

She put on the sweater and the jeans, then used the towel to wrap her damp hair and made her way to the camp.

Helping herself into a bowl of stew she sat on one of the bed sacks, wrapping herself with an old blanket. The stew was delicious, so much so that she had two bowls. Her happiness was cut by the sound of a spoon across the bowl. she looked with an exasperated look towards Ezra : " She's nine years younger than you! Can you please be mature about this?" her eyes begged his for some peace. She then turned her head to Velska and stated with the most genuine smile that that had been the best, most delicious stew she'd had in years. She took another sip with the spoon, eyes closing slghtly as she enjoyed the warmth of the stew.