Darcs

CLOSED.

---

---

Mood

~~~
Location;; Little Spain Retirement Community, her Grandmother's Apartment, in the kitchen
Interacting With;; Herself ► Her Grandmother ► A member of her operation (Johnny) ► An Unknown Caller

---

---

A perfect white line.

Thin, and precise-- no powder strayed from the meticulous journey from point A to B. As if a machine had crushed up a little white pearl, and laid the dust of it's being a perfect, glowing, silver-white 'I' that contrasted poorly with the spearmint green Formica table it called home. For now.

A woman sits before the line, bill in a recently manicured hand, folding it into a straw, as quickly, as immaculately, and with the same precision she laid the line with. She bends over the table, and inhales. Point A to point B. Just like that, the perfect white line is.

The woman, Adah, reels back, stars in her eyes. Leaning back in the chair, she feels relief. Stars are always a good sign, she thinks, that's the body adjusting. She stares up at a ceiling, beige-white to match with the coffee brown carpet, a dim yellow light greets her, the ever glowing eye of a three pronged fan spinning slowly. That's not environmentally friendly, is it? That light? The room comes into focus.

Pale Christmas lights that have been a staple of this kitchen since at least three holiday seasons ago glitter at the edge of her periphery. A cage of light surrounds the edge of the ceiling, though some dandelion bulbs flicker out of existence while their brother's burn on. Make a note of that. Yeah.

Adah jerks her head downward, feeling the kick sufficiently coursing through her system, enough to revoke the puffiness of her tired eyes of their power. The sickly green walls match the table she sits at, littered with pictures o animals and people alike, interrupted only by a monolith. A flat, black rectangle amidst the chlorine green and baby pictures. Save for two doorways and a pastel blue fridge, she feels enclosed by the tacky yellow counter tops, preserved from their birthplace in the 60's, all crowded with more manner of appliances and sinkware than her schooling led her to believe existed. The kick is good-- she sniffs again, rubbing the underside of her nose.

Adah blinked, and like that, a moment had passed. She knew she needed more sleep, but for now she had to settle for coffee and some blow. She gave an almost invisible nod to herself, feeling her thoughts catch up with her material being. How had she been up since 6? Slapping her face a little, she gets up to get herself a cuppa.

Or rather, she had started to get up-- when from behind her, a familiar 'tsk' bounced off the asbestos and carpeting. "You know I don't like that shit in my house."

Adah sighed, settling back into her position, only turning slightly to acknowledge the woman entering the room, hair obscuring her eye for her effort as she did so. "That's why I do it when you aren't around." She gave small grin to the elderly brown woman as she rounded the corner, "Wotcha, Nan."

"Yeah, yeah." The old woman, larger than Adah by half, and dressed in a blindingly floral Hawaiian shirt and a skirt as sickeningly green as the Formica and walls, yanked open the fridge, pulling out a freshly prepared tupperware container, "Made you some breakfast-- it'll take a minute to heat it up."

"That's fine," Adah rested her head against her arms as she sat, watching the woman work, even if it was just simple reheating, "Got any coffee on?"

Wordlessly, soundlessly, as if she was already performing the action before it was even mentioned, she handed Adah a freshly poured mu. As if from nowhere, responding only with her own query, cigarette in mouth, "Gotta light?"

"Yeah." Adah didn't move from her bored position as she pulled out matchbook-- from Blackie's-- prompting her grandmother to strike the match on her own. "Thanks." Adah mumbled, sipping on the black concoction, feeling life return to her two-fold, along with the white horses running through her body, now they had all been given coffee.

Her Grandmother blew the smoke upward, into that fan with the environmentally unfriendly yellow light. "So." She took a drag, "My little monkey seems down."

Adah gave a mirthless laugh, "Down is for the romantics. I'm fine, just tired." Sip.

She blew the smoke away from Adah. "Busy week?" She took a pull. Another drag.

Another sip of the coffee. "You don't know the half." Another sip. She felt her throat tingle.

"It's always a busy week, month year-- life! The smoked flared form her nose as she spoke, "Whatever."

Adah finished the cup of coffee, "It's different. That storm shook everyone up from under their rocks, we haven't been this busy since the Olympics." Running her finger along the rim of the mug, "And I don't even want to get into those damn reporters-- half of my guys got heads so big now they can hardly work...." Motioning her fingers, she silently requested her grandmother move further away with her cigarette, while she fumbled in her purse for her inhaler, she took as long a pull on her medicine as her grandmother, "Good grief."

Her grandmother chucked the mostly smoked parliament out an open window, giving an exaggerated frown she turned back to Adah. "Awww, pobrecita." She shrugged, "What can you do? You know-- I heard on the news, they're closer to finding those missing people than ever."

They haven't even identified the missing people, Nan. Adah scoffed-- though it went unnoticed, as she did so, her phone began to ring from in her purse. Her grandmother nodded, retrieved the breakfast plate from the oven, and left it on the table for Adah, as she left the room, leaving a final kiss on her forehead as Adah answered, knowing full well what this call was about.

Adah flipped open the burner. "Wotcha."

"W-wotcher, boss..."

There was a pause. Not particularly heavy, or, for Adah's part, anyway, awkward-- she took advantage of the man's own nervousness to ge tot the point to begin scarfing down her meal. She hadn't had a thing to eat at all today and she was famished. It was a simple meal-- one of eggs, toast, and beans-- but still one she could feel her grandmother's love and skill infused in. Being hungry made the simplest of meals delicacies-- following that logic; Adah, perhaps, ate better than most kings.

"Boss...?" The voice chimed, even more mousy and unsure after a near minute of silence.

Adah continued to eat. She wanted to put off the stress of this conversation for just a little bit longer. For an instant-- a fraction of a fraction of a second eve--

_{"B-boss......?"}

Adah sighed. Dropping her fork, she moved to grip the bridge of her nose with her index and thumb.

_{"Are you--"}

Adah spoke up. "New missing?"

"Y-yeah... At least 6 of our dancers are confirmed gone without a trace. A couple bouncers."

Adah was silent.

"And um... 4 runners."

"... Fuck."

"Y-yeah."

"Thank you for this, Johnny. This is important to know... moving forward."

"Y-yeah!" The stuttering youth sounded genuinely encouraged by the perceived optimism. "Of course! So what's the plan?"

She gave a sigh. "Let's close Don Juan for now. Put a memorandum out on the website, the Facebook-- all our social media-- that this is in respect of those missing, and that we won't open until further notice. We can concentrate sales in Blackie's for now." She thought for a moment, "For Blackie's... we'll keep the club open. Anyone who works at the club can take shifts at the bar. We're offering drinks half-price until... and... write this down Johnny, I want this on social media, and as a press release-- this is what we tell reporters, 'Until the victims are found, all drinks are half-price, and family of victims drink free." Adah coughed into her hand, "Did you get all that, Johnny?"

"Yes, mum."

"Good." Adah stood, nodding to herself, "We need public opinion on our side now more than ever, if someone even accidentally says 'drugs' to the wrong person, the pigs will come right for us."

"Got it, boss."

"Right now, we're in damage control mode while we figure out what the hell is going on. I'll brief everyone else later."

"Okay."

"Until then, no one but you and I are to even be in the same room as a reporter." She grabbed her hoodie, waving a silent goodbye to her grandmother as she exited the apartment. "Otherwise we have a full head count."

"Yes, mum."

"Great. I'll need their names."

"Oh! It was--"

"Not over the phone." Adah paced herself, walking brisk in the fog of the afternoon to her car. "Text me the missing Don Juan people. Give me the runners in person."

"O-okay."

"Get the word out. Don Juan's is closed for now, Blackie's is offering liquid therapy for Brighton's grieving. I'll see you in a bit."

"You aren't coming down right away?"

"No Johnny..." Adah entered her car, a used up Camry, and the only thing grayer than the morning fog for about a thousand miles in any direction. "Something tells me our swine may have a few pearls for us in this matter." She slammed the door shut and she clicked the phone shut. And like clockwork, eight names appeared from an unlisted number, sent to her personal phone.

---

Cannolo Murolo
Massimo Murolo
Angelica Attanasio
Coniglio Cura
Sheila Errina
Mira Michal
Tiziano Squalo
Melone Edmonds

---

As Adah starts up the engine-- her phone rings, not her burner, but her personal phone rings. She runs over the possibilities in her head-- the number is unlisted-- there's no number to recognize on the screen at all. Her finger hovers over the 'answer' button on the touch screen, before, as she sits there, in the driveway to this apartment complex for the elderly, she lets the phone rings for several minutes, before panic sets in-- it eventually rings out. No second call. No message.

Adah pulls out of the driveway.

Silverspell University; Sandbox-ish Dorm/Apartment Life Fantasy Creature RP

Elenei

---

✿

---

---

_{{"Blue Flowers!! I love that song! Look! They're so pretty. It's totally raining green... and like... auroras... the sky..."}}

---

---

~~~

Portrait

~~~

---

---

✿official full name_
Kiều_{(family name)} Melodiá Morena_{(middle name(s))} Elenei_{(given name)}

✿goes by_
Mel or Elenei Kiều

✿alias(es)_

current

• Mel _{(most common)}
• Melly/Elly _{(close friends/family)}
• Mel One Wing
• Mel Crow's Wing
• Melodiá Morena
• Morena Joy
• Pretty Bird
• Crow's Wing
• One Winged Crow

✿gender_
Female

✿age_
24

✿goes by_
Witch (Alchemist, Animalia specialty)

---

---

✿appearance_
Elenei is an alluring, androgynous young woman, with somber and piercing eyes and windswept hair the color of polished oak with blue dyed streaks. Her eyes draw one in and her face has regal qualities, she's quick to smile and joke around. Her lips are particularly pale, and her skin is the color of a milky sunset. Her eyebrows are regularly plucked and her nails are manicured on a weekly basis, but she does not wear makeup.

She has a slight, unassuming physical frame with some wiry muscle hidden beneath expensive clothing. Her bust is modest, nearly flat, and her figure could best be described as "thin, fragile hourglass." She rejects her coven's sensibilities when it comes to fashion, and wears button down blouses, pastel vests, dark slacks, and ballet shoes. As a part of her ongoing experiments as Witch, based in the study of animals and alchemy, she has grown herself a large, dexterous, black wing on the right side of her body.

✿in-depth appearance_

appearance, full

~~~

Elenei was always a somber girl, even from a young age, there was always a certain reserved cloudiness behind her eyes, contemplative of something that would upset lesser men to a greater degree than the slight sadness that seemed to be a permanent feature of her face. almond-shaped eyes, piercing, dark and somber all rolled into one, rest between a frame of windswept, but chic and trimmed brunette hair. She keeps her hair clearly longer than a pixie cut or a bob-- but also shorter than a typical shoulder length hair cut-- when it grows much longer than this she tends to braid and pony tail before cutting to this 'in-betweener' length.

She keeps her ears hidden-- yet spending a few minutes with her will reveal that she is a woman who listens far more than she ever speaks. Her stony face reveals little beside the mere reality that she is thinking-- although scarcely will her expression ever give away that she is thinking of other people. She isn't a serious woman, often quick to smile. Though, she keeps her cards close to her chest, she may laugh-- but she wants you to wonder "Why did she like that joke?" Her lips, in their default state, are very subtly turned downward, just a tick, it's difficult to tell whether this from a general displeasure, or a simple force of habit. Regardless, her lips themselves are pert, caught somewhere in-between being thin and heart-shaped, and they are of a pale salmon shade-- it is very clear that her lips are abnormally pale, furthering a powdered, regal appearance of her face.

While not quite gaunt, her cheeks reveal that she has missed more meals than she should-- it can be said that her dimples do contour with the concave nature of her cheeks, and give her a very bright and pleasant smile. It is rare for her to do so, however, as previously mentioned. However, to those who know her intimately, this simply means that her rare smiles are completely genuine. Her nose is perfectly sculpted and roman, and almost serves as a pillar for the frame that is Mel's 'long' face.

That is how one would describe it, typically-- her face is long both metaphorically and quite literally, when she was younger she found a common nickname of her's to be horseface-- however as she's come into womanhood it has become something that sets her apart, giving her the air of a tragic noble, sharp facial features within a soft, long frame, and a distant, solemn personality give her a Byronesque Romantic visage. Clearly responsible for this is her multi-cultural background-- her father was a human male of Chinese and Vietnamese ancestry, and her mother is a Spanish-French Monegasque Witch.

However, certain large factors of her appearance, such as her androgynous hairstyle, often dyed with streaks of blue, her well maintained eyebrows, her pale complexion, and her single, black wing-- come from more than genetics.

Years spent training at night with her coven, hiding in shadows and huddled over fires in the pale moonlight have changed what should have been a Mediterranean olive-tan skin tone, reminiscent of the early sunset, to a skin tone that is much milkier in color-- it is even, save for the occasional blemish, and very soft to the touch.

After years of ingesting potions imbued with her own magical energy, she has managed to physically maintain features of the animals she specializes in. Her right wing has grown large to compensate for the her difficulty in ever growing a permanent left one-- she can't fly, but the wing is strong enough to propel her jumps by a little over her own height-- 5'8"-- can move upwards of 100 lbs of weight, can lighten falls and generally act as a third, muffled limb. The wing is 8'6" at it's longest, and is slick like a raven or a crow's.

She's thin, all around-- often to the point of causing confusion to her sex from a distance. Having the skinny, well-maintained body of an athlete-- albeit one eats much less than they should, and drinks more potions than intended for any one person. Due to this, she can appear to be much frailer than she actually is-- she's fast, and has quite a bit of endurance and flexibility to boot.

~~~

✿personality_
Elenei is the daughter of the famed "Alchemist from the Orient," in witch circles, her mother is famed for being one of the few witches to bring the arts into the modern era. Her mother, Enyaba, for her part-- revitalized the teachings of potioncraft in covens in Europe and Asia, by bringing her findings from her studies with the Dugpas in Tibet, the mystics in the Americas, and the storm wives of Africa, Enyaba, with her coven brought powerful new techniques to potion craft that helped make it a viable form of magic again, as the practices of the old entered into a new century.

Elenei has followed in her mother's steps-- choosing to focus even more on the relationship between Witches, potions, alchemical brews, and the natural world. Her claim to fame has been synthesizing alchemical-chimeric brews, capable of permanently or semi-permanently altering your physical being, granting you the same strengths as found in animals. Unfortunately-- Elenei, despite her passion shared with her mother-- is a bit of a slacker. Whenever she finds time to focus on her studies, outside of her procrastination spent with activites best left to mortals, she tends to accidentally fall into new brews-- or, as she puts it 'intuit' them.

Still, she is her mother's daughter... she's a skilled botanist, alchemist, a well-known witch in her own right... perhaps she knows what she's doing? Perhaps she really can rely on her intuition to find a way to fix her 'one wing' problem... Either way, she'd just rather not bother right now, you know?

---

---

✿familiar name_
Francis Forever

✿familiar form_
A magnificant blue, morpho butterfly

---

---

✿other leitmotif(s)_

~~~

others, still

~~~

✿

---

---

Mel's scattered thoughts

i v y

{"Yeah... I've seen her once before... or like...? Maybe? I don't know...? Yeah.... Because, she's like, important, right? I'm pretty sure my mom met with a Solstice Witch of Winter. At some point in the last century, at least. So know that."}

v a r o s

{"Dragons can hoard without utilizing their rare materials, things that like, really help people... That's the stereotype, right? I wonder what Puff thinks about it."}

a s h

{"I'm working on a new potion! Lend me some of your fur! No-- it's not what your thinking, dude-- it's like-- you feel like a wolf on the hunt. Like coke, but the high is like a million times more intense."}

e t h r a

{"Kindred spirit! Ohh oh oh-- please lend me a feather, I'd really like another wing please."}

m e s u k a

{"I can brew you something to help with your people anxiety. Yes-- it's tested, I test every potion, powder, pill, and polutice I create in like, friggin triplicate. Totally 100% natural and I'll let you in on a secret-- I'm uncomfortable around people in my cover too-- I always keep a flask of my special greens on hand."}

k a t

{"Haha.... You're so tall. That's far out, space cadet. Maybe a little too competitive for my taste--
I know something that can calm you down a million times more than booze though-- have you ever wanted to feel like a sloth?"}

r a v e n

{"You can have a sip of my sloth brew too, my dude."}

m o r t e m

{"Bone powder is a rare commodity in the modern world of witchery-- spiritually enchanted bone powder in particular. I'll give you something that'll make you feel like a cheetah for some. No, man, it doesn't like... actually make you faster. I'm still working out the kinks."}

g r i f f i n

{"Eaten eaten eaten... I've never heard of that! But it doesn't mean you are! There are many spirits one could entwine with the brews to help ease your suffering, lost one. Do you wannaaaa...... touch a cloud?"}

o m

{"GIBE FEATHER."}

l o l a

{"Dolly Dagger! Meet Francis Forever, and a new... potion seller?"}

l e o n a r d

{"A human? Hey, I love humans! They have such a creative eye for mind altering chemicals-- not too good at allowing them to reach their full magic potential, though."}

a l e x

{"Pale and perky... But, no, not jerky... Just... I don't know where I'm going with this one."}

v i i k

{"Does that black sludge.... feel magical?"}

c a s t o r

{"Sometimes, you just need some classic, no nonsense ganja.... though, I also make xanies that make you feel surrounded by like, a full enclosure of butterflies. Thanks to Francis, here."}

s a m a n t h a

{"Like... a beast from the east! My mother spoke of your kind in her travels, you're... smaller... than I expected."}

Silverspell University; Sandbox-ish Dorm/Apartment Life Fantasy Creature RP

Lola

Katarina

---

---

Kat smirked moving her hip to the side and letting her hand rest upon it, granted the comment was intended for Om but Lola opened up a chance to get closer so she figured she might as well take it.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you sweat a bit goldie, but I meant Om” she said walking closer bending down to get more on her eye level “But I’m sure I can think of another workout” she finished, it was part serious and part joke but she didn’t care which the girl took it as.

Lola feigned a gasp, emulating a southern belle catching the vapors. “My word miss Kat!” Lola smiled as she spoke, “I’m a woman of high class and standing-- I should hope you’d at least buy a girl dinner and a movie before such scandalous thoughts should dare to transpire!”

Katarina’s lips stretched outward into a smile and soon opened as she erupted into a bellowing laugh that lasted a second or two before she calmed down clearing her throat.

“Oh, I think I’m going to like you- a lot more than I should,” she chuckled, it was rare that anyone had a clever retort on top of that she wasn’t exactly hearing a decline to the coy invitation into the bedroom “A movie would have to wait for afterhours I’m afraid my lady however, the dinner would have to depend on what we’re eating and where” she replied.

Kat soon lifted herself up and stretched a bit popping her back then grunting a bit as her bust stretched out the fabric of the training bra, it was starting to get just downright uncomfortable. Her back popping told her she really needed to stretch out and that last night was more than just a drunken adventure of self-discovery. Bending over touching her toes, stretching her arms and legs around making them pop one after another.

“You should actually think about commin with us, the sweat isn’t so bad once you’re used to it and the shower after can be real invigorating” She explained emphasizing the ‘real’ part wanting it to sound exactly what it was, an invitation.

Lola sighed, making note of the not-so-hidden flirtations being thrown her way, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’d prefer to be a part of the invigoration that comes after, without all the work that comes before.” She tilted her head as the woman stretched before the pair, “Though, I’d never turn down an invitation to watch.” Her visible eye glittered with mischief-- as did her lips, now hidden as they openly smiled behind her raised mug. She took a sip.

---

---

interactions: @Noxx

Quick RP Ideas I Had At Work

I HADN'T HEARD.

YES YES YES!

Silverspell University; Sandbox-ish Dorm/Apartment Life Fantasy Creature RP

I threw together another dude because I'm very easily influenced by peer pressure.

Elenei

m

e

l

---

---

_{{"Blue Flowers!! I love that song! Look! They're so pretty. It's totally raining green... and like... auroras... the sky..."}}

~~~

~~~

Portrait

~~~

---

---

✿official full name_
Kiều_{(family name)} Melodiá Morena_{(middle name(s))} Elenei_{(given name)}

✿goes by_
Mel or Elenei Kiều

✿alias(es)_

current

• Mel _{(most common)}
• Melly/Elly _{(close friends/family)}
• Mel One Wing
• Mel Crow's Wing
• Melodiá Morena
• Morena Joy
• Pretty Bird
• Crow's Wing
• One Winged Crow

✿gender_
Female

✿age_
24

✿goes by_
Witch (Alchemist, Animalia specialty)

---

---

✿appearance_
Elenei is an alluring, androgynous young woman, with somber and piercing eyes and windswept hair the color of polished oak with blue dyed streaks. Her eyes draw one in and her face has regal qualities, she's quick to smile and joke around. Her lips are particularly pale, and her skin is the color of a milky sunset. Her eyebrows are regularly plucked and her nails are manicured on a weekly basis, but she does not wear makeup.

She has a slight, unassuming physical frame with some wiry muscle hidden beneath expensive clothing. Her bust is modest, nearly flat, and her figure could best be described as "thin, fragile hourglass." She rejects her coven's sensibilities when it comes to fashion, and wears button down blouses, pastel vests, dark slacks, and ballet shoes. As a part of her ongoing experiments as Witch, based in the study of animals and alchemy, she has grown herself a large, dexterous, black wing on the right side of her body.

✿in-depth appearance_

appearance, full

~~~

Elenei was always a somber girl, even from a young age, there was always a certain reserved cloudiness behind her eyes, contemplative of something that would upset lesser men to a greater degree than the slight sadness that seemed to be a permanent feature of her face. almond-shaped eyes, piercing, dark and somber all rolled into one, rest between a frame of windswept, but chic and trimmed brunette hair. She keeps her hair clearly longer than a pixie cut or a bob-- but also shorter than a typical shoulder length hair cut-- when it grows much longer than this she tends to braid and pony tail before cutting to this 'in-betweener' length.

She keeps her ears hidden-- yet spending a few minutes with her will reveal that she is a woman who listens far more than she ever speaks. Her stony face reveals little beside the mere reality that she is thinking-- although scarcely will her expression ever give away that she is thinking of other people. She isn't a serious woman, often quick to smile. Though, she keeps her cards close to her chest, she may laugh-- but she wants you to wonder "Why did she like that joke?" Her lips, in their default state, are very subtly turned downward, just a tick, it's difficult to tell whether this from a general displeasure, or a simple force of habit. Regardless, her lips themselves are pert, caught somewhere in-between being thin and heart-shaped, and they are of a pale salmon shade-- it is very clear that her lips are abnormally pale, furthering a powdered, regal appearance of her face.

While not quite gaunt, her cheeks reveal that she has missed more meals than she should-- it can be said that her dimples do contour with the concave nature of her cheeks, and give her a very bright and pleasant smile. It is rare for her to do so, however, as previously mentioned. However, to those who know her intimately, this simply means that her rare smiles are completely genuine. Her nose is perfectly sculpted and roman, and almost serves as a pillar for the frame that is Mel's 'long' face.

That is how one would describe it, typically-- her face is long both metaphorically and quite literally, when she was younger she found a common nickname of her's to be horseface-- however as she's come into womanhood it has become something that sets her apart, giving her the air of a tragic noble, sharp facial features within a soft, long frame, and a distant, solemn personality give her a Byronesque Romantic visage. Clearly responsible for this is her multi-cultural background-- her father was a human male of Chinese and Vietnamese ancestry, and her mother is a Spanish-French Monegasque Witch.

However, certain large factors of her appearance, such as her androgynous hairstyle, often dyed with streaks of blue, her well maintained eyebrows, her pale complexion, and her single, black wing-- come from more than genetics.

Years spent training at night with her coven, hiding in shadows and huddled over fires in the pale moonlight have changed what should have been a Mediterranean olive-tan skin tone, reminiscent of the early sunset, to a skin tone that is much milkier in color-- it is even, save for the occasional blemish, and very soft to the touch.

After years of ingesting potions imbued with her own magical energy, she has managed to physically maintain features of the animals she specializes in. Her right wing has grown large to compensate for the her difficulty in ever growing a permanent left one-- she can't fly, but the wing is strong enough to propel her jumps by a little over her own height-- 5'8"-- can move upwards of 100 lbs of weight, can lighten falls and generally act as a third, muffled limb. The wing is 8'6" at it's longest, and is slick like a raven or a crow's.

She's thin, all around-- often to the point of causing confusion to her sex from a distance. Having the skinny, well-maintained body of an athlete-- albeit one eats much less than they should, and drinks more potions than intended for any one person. Due to this, she can appear to be much frailer than she actually is-- she's fast, and has quite a bit of endurance and flexibility to boot.

~~~

✿personality_
Elenei is the daughter of the famed "Alchemist from the Orient," in witch circles, her mother is famed for being one of the few witches to bring the arts into the modern era. Her mother, Enyaba, for her part-- revitalized the teachings of potioncraft in covens in Europe and Asia, by bringing her findings from her studies with the Dugpas in Tibet, the mystics in the Americas, and the storm wives of Africa, Enyaba, with her coven brought powerful new techniques to potion craft that helped make it a viable form of magic again, as the practices of the old entered into a new century.

Elenei has followed in her mother's steps-- choosing to focus even more on the relationship between Witches, potions, alchemical brews, and the natural world. Her claim to fame has been synthesizing alchemical-chimeric brews, capable of permanently or semi-permanently altering your physical being, granting you the same strengths as found in animals. Unfortunately-- Elenei, despite her passion shared with her mother-- is a bit of a slacker. Whenever she finds time to focus on her studies, outside of her procrastination spent with activites best left to mortals, she tends to accidentally fall into new brews-- or, as she puts it 'intuit' them.

Still, she is her mother's daughter... she's a skilled botanist, alchemist, a well-known witch in her own right... perhaps she knows what she's doing? Perhaps she really can rely on her intuition to find a way to fix her 'one wing' problem... Either way, she'd just rather not bother right now, you know?

---

---

✿familiar name_
Francis Forever

✿familiar form_
A magnificant blue, morpho butterfly

Silverspell University; Sandbox-ish Dorm/Apartment Life Fantasy Creature RP

Lola

---

---

Lola allowed the black suucor to wash her being in caffeinated revitalization. It was cheap coffee-- disgustingly cheap-- Lola wasn't a miracle worker with the slots, but she knew she could afford better. Still in spite of that-- or rather, because of it, the cup did it's job all the better. The mud tasted like home, and with a glass in her system, she felt one again. Her mug bore the words 'world's best mother.' Just like a mother would-- the black energy, coffee as black as midnight on a moonless night, coursed through her system, keeping her awake, alive, and in a state of appropriate existential being around her euclidian classmates.

Speaking of her classmates-- she generally ignored the two as she prepared the pot and drank full-- but she catch the important parts of their conversation. She knew Om, she'd seen the living mountain before, obviously, who hadn't? Kat-- she'd said was her name-- was new, to Lola, at least. Neither seemed to be too troubled or even particularly susceptible to stress, certainly not enough to provide significant garmonbozia. She supposed that meant she'd spend most of her nights eating out...

Lola poured herself a second glass. She'd felt her stores of energy returning. Her connection to the void, the Black Lodge in the woods, her ability to interact with people-- all rushed back. She always forgot how hard the jump here was, until it was too late. She let out a little sigh. "Humm..." Her coffee became like motor oil-- and then even thicker, like molasses.
Lola tilted the cup, while Om suggest laying down ground rules-- the coffee poured out slowly, never quite touching the ground-- until it developed the elastic consistency of rubber, and contracted back into the now upside down mug. Flicking the mug back up in her wrist, the coffee became like liquid once more, "Wow, MOM. Wow." She muttered.

After answering the door, Kat was the first to respond to Om. Though, Lola had taken to allowing her eyes to settle on the man. Staring at him as she sipped her endless mug of coffee. There was a depth to him he wasn't allowing others to see. Her Jade eye sparkled, she only caught the end of Kat's conditions, "--can’t speak for gold-y here.”

Goldie? Cute. She thought. "We might balance each other out, then." Her glare shifted from Om to Kat, "Never was a huge fan of milk, myself." Lola had no clue what people did with milk aside from occasionally putting it in their coffee, which she preferred black. "Though, I never deny myself an opportunity to learn what it is that makes people love something." Lola would literally constantly deny herself opportunities.

"Dolores Dague, Lola, for you two." She spoke to them both, allowing herself to linger on Kat returning to her room a moment longer, before snapping her gaze toward Om. "I've never been a huge fan of rules, either." She took a sip of her coffee. "I don't mind sharing what's out here, I doubt I'll even use the fridge." Her eye kept focus on his. "Just don't go in my room." Another sip.

And then-- Kat returned, breaking silence. An opportunity to run with the toned Amazon of a woman.

Opportunities are the worst! She really could have been speaking to either Om or Lola-- honestly-- though Lola was the first to respond. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much of a fan do you think I am of running?"

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Interactions: @Saarebas
@Noxx

CLOSED.

@HushedWhispers Still working on the second character-- I'm going to aim to have her done by tonight.

CLOSED.

Adah Komchén

✿ Adah Komchén✿

_{{ ”Just stay in your lane. Don't be an idiot, and we'll all make it big.” }}

Theme no. 1|Theme no. 2|Theme no. 3|Theme no. 4|Theme no. 5

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| Name |

Adah Maria Komchén

| Nickname |

To friends and acquaintances: Madchen, Adde

To customers, associates, and business partners: Gehenna, Sheol, The Christian

| Date Of Birth |

10/31/1988

| Age |

29

| Sexuality |

Gay as hell

| Relationship Status |

Single

| Occupation |

Owner of 'Don Juan's (Strip club)'
Co-owner of 'Blackie O'Donnagan's Arcade, Slots, & Shots' (Blackie's)'
Drug trafficker/supply (Weed, Narcotics)

| In Depth Appearance |

Adah is a slight, but figured woman, with a relatively small bust contrasted with an almost hourglass, athletic lower frame. She stands around 5' 4", and is never seen in anything but skinny jeans. Typically dark blue, occasionally black, never acid wash. She tends to wear casual tops, neutral colored button downs or t-shirts, layered with cardigans or zip up hoodies. She had a large collection of scarves that will typically match her pants. Of note is her hair, shaved on one side, and her jewelry-- which, while understated, is always shiny and plainly authentic. Diamonds are her friend, and she prefers necklaces, earrings, toe rings, anklets, and time pieces, all respectively diamond studded, all casually hidden beneath her more causal dress. She had no tattoos, and does have a diamond tongue and navel piercings. Her eyes are inky black, and she is always wearing black cowboy boots-- an homage to her late father.

| Quirks & Habits |

She doesn't cook-- or visit restaurants. Instead, mostly relying on meals prepared by her grandmother to sustain her-- often visiting the woman several times per day.

She keeps a fiercely tight belt. She rarely flaunts her salary at others, instead preferring to save and invest. She's certainly biding her time, putting away thousands for something. But she's tight lipped as to what. She wears expensive jewelry to contrast with her rather plain manner of dress, but she has a tight control on her impulses, and doesn't buy enough to put her out. Her largest expenses stem from gambling, and her visits to strip clubs.

She doesn't smoke either-- her asthma is incredibly sensitive. She can hardly run without breaking out in fits of coughing. On bad days, just the smell of smoke is enough to trigger a violent attack. As such, she always carriers a high strength inhaler-- it's unclear how long she'd last without it.

She has weekly therapy sessions. Though, she hardly tells anyone about this. She's been seeing her doctor for years, and despite the breech in professionalism, considers the woman one of her only friends. Regularly buying her gifts.

| Hobbies |

Travelling: Immersing oneself in other cultures is her favorite thing to experience. Brighton can be a fishbowl, and it's good to leave every now and then, and remind yourself there's a whole world outside of her little, insignificant drug running business.

Chess: It's cliche-- but a game with oneself is a good time to consider next moves in life, she finds. She does it quite frequently.

Strip clubs: A weekly vice. She considers it therapeutic, since she's unlikely to meet someone she'd click with anywhere-- at least she can satisfy her more carnal desires regularly.

Reading: She almost always has some young adult mystery, or romance novel on her person. Her favorite series is Game of Thrones. She has not seen the show.

Gambling: A less than weekly vice she takes part in. More to honor the legacy of her surrogate father, than anything.

| Likes |

Uppers: Her drug of choice-- from coffee to coke. Though she worries she may be developing a reliance, like her mother.

Soul food: Her grandmother, true creole from Louisiana, makes collards and grits better than anyone Adah's ever met. Adah hardly eats anywhere that isn't her grandmother's house.

Music: Adah likes the instrumentation of bands like The Smiths, Joy Division, and Depeche mode, as well as the lyricism in most rap. Though she likes pretty much all of it, from country to mariachi to polka.

Games: Growing up in Brighton-- one had to take to arcade games. She's gotten good at them, and even today, they hold a place in her heart.

Planning/strategy: It's how she's able to operate so seamlessly.

Those who earn her respect: Like her late father. And Blackie, her late surrogate father. Those who can demonstrate strength through intelligence, to her, are always worth listening to.

| Dislikes |

Unpredictable situations: Any situation where she feels variables are unexaminable, make her intrinsically uncomfortable.

Stupidity: She doesn't not stand fools. Anyone who doesn't take her sound advice, to her, can't be a smart person.

Boredom: Time not spent on a task is time wasted. Even if that task is merely for satisfaction of the self.

EDM: She likes all music, except EDM. Which has no soul.

The 24 Hour News Cycle: It's an opiate given to the masses that the pigs use to instill fear in her populace. It's a big point of contention with her grandmother.

Violence: Especially unnecessary violence. She believes compromise is always the smarter choice.

Law Enforcement: The pigs would just love to put her away. Luckily,
her criminal versatility means she doesn't even have a record. They don't actually know who they're looking for.

| Fears |

Addiction: It runs in her family. She has participated in any number of vices, she has become attached to some more than others-- she may simply have a taste for some drugs, behaviors... and women-- while she might be borderline addicted to others-- she's certainly developed quite a reliance on cocaine in her coffee to function daily. And doesn't mind indulging in party drugs to help move along her deals.

Vulnerability: It's part of the reason few of her relationships last more than a few months. She has a desire for connection to others, but the idea of letting others into her head scares her, however much she wants to connect. This is also why she works at her image-- she doesn't want to experience the vulnerability many women feel at night. She wants desperately to surpass her slot, as someone who should be afraid.

A Meaningless Death: She isn't sure what she wants to build. But she know she wants to leave something behind. She doesn't know how she's going to get from Boardwalk dealer to Pablo Escobar-- but she wants it. It's not death she fears, per se, just historical insignificance.

| Personality |

A lack of affection from her drugg-addled mother and the perceived abandonment by and subsequent death of her Father have melded Adah into a very affectionless individual. She later came to idolize her father, upon relaizing the many sacrificed he made for her, and her family-- and obsessed with showing her compassion in a similar fashion. She doesn't say "I love you," instead-- she'll buy you the most expensive brand of clothing you like, and set up fund in your name. This means she's reserved... and has extreme difficulties in her relationship with others, and with others.

To combat her depression and talk through her aspergers, she self-medicates with sample sof the drugs she funnels into Brighton-- and sees a therapist weekly. Her personality is resolute, and she doesn't deal well with those who refuse to try and look at every situation, through every lens possible.

| Abilities |

Localized neuro-electrochemical theft: Adah's, unlike most abilities, ability is to simply create generally favorable conditions for her to act in by manipulating people around her. It doesn't have any real offensive capabilities, besides causing long term bodily damage to those it might effect for extended periods, by making them more susceptible to disease, depression, and suicide.

Adah's ability dramatically reduces the aggressiveness of those under its effects.

Manifesting as an invisible telekinetic field, that can travel as far as 25 meters from Adah. Her ability's effect travels through water in the atmosphere and numbs the human limbic and nervous systems, by stealing away a tiny electric potential of 0.07 Volts per second. This is an otherwise negligible current, however, continued exposure to this effect, when activated, is said to reduce a person's will to fight.

Any feeling of aggressiveness will be reduced, as the longer they remain effected by her ability, they become more agreeable, compliant, and eventually sadder. The lack of electro-chemical energy in the target's system, will also reduce their reaction time-- someone under the full strength of Adah's ability, will see the world delayed by several seconds-- allowing Adah to appear to be moving at superhuman speeds. Ironically, though, Adah's ability indirectly increases the fighting prowess of its victims, as they eventually become so depressed they ignore pain and fear, and are focused on their own misery-- meaning that while they become easier to attack, they are much harder to kill.

Electrokinesis immunity: Interestingly, Adah is also immune to electrical damage-- likely a resulting feature of her ability, and the telekinetic cloud surrounding her.

| Limitations |

Considering Adah's ability is only able to rob one's system of 0.07 Volts of neuro-chemical electric energy per second, it may take Adah's ability several seconds, to minutes, to possibly even hours, to actually noticably reduce someone's reaction time.

People tend to become more agreeable to Adah's demands almost immediately after being under her influence, so long as they enter her field without excess aggression. Those who are charged up, take much longer to calm down, before reaction time reduction can even begin.

Adah's ability requires moist atmosphere to work effectively-- on particularly dry days, her ability is much weaker-- only being able to rob one's system of 0.03 Volts per second, and her range becomes halved.

Her use of her ability is obvious, as when she turns it on, the whites of her eyes glow with sick, white electricity. And as someone with a range of only 25 meters, she is at a distinct disadvantage in outdoor settings.

| Place Of Origin |

Brighton native, daughter of first generation American immigrant

| Background |

Sometime in the 60's, two men named Juan Komchén and Blackmoore 'Blackie' O'Donnagan meet and become friends. They are men shunned by society. Juan can't return to America, and Blackie can't return to Scotland.
They put their criminal talents to use in Brighton-- Brighton in it's prime-- and starting from nothing, but two bar stools, they resolve to become kings. Juan is capable muscle, often following Blackie's instructions to a T, because of how in tune they are. Blackie is quick-witted. He's the brains-- longterm planning isn't his strength, but he's gifted at improvisation.

20 years later, and things are looking good. Juan has done some time-- but Blackie's put enough together to buy the two a bar. They become the Co-owners of 'Brighton's Best: Slots & Shots' it was going to grow into something amazing. Were they going to go legit...? That might have been smart. Blackie has twins on the way--
and Juan just started seeing a girl from the Church. But the boys never claimed to be smart. For a time, they're merely dimebag pushers, they're still just grunts, operating in the shadows. But they're getting ready to make their move. The thing that draws them to each other... is a desire for more. They continue growing, seeking power. They will be kings.

1988. Adah Maria Komchén is born on Dia de los Muertos after a shotgun wedding held a week prior-- a priest threatened to kill Juan if he didn't make an honest woman out of his daughter, a pale, modest Briton named Mary. She didn't leave much of herself in Adah-- shes the spitting image of her father, Mary names her after the biblical Adah, Juan lies and says the middle name is in her honor, and mother Maria-- it isn't. She's baptized the day of her birth, and soon after attends the Dia de los Muertos proper. Blackie's twins play with the squishy baby, while the father's smoke cigars in their bar. Juan's mother is moving from Louisiana to help with the baby-- he's wanted to move her up here for years. Things are well.

1999. Adah sees Blackie more than her father. Her mother, raising her a good christian girl, obsesses over her whenever her grandmother can't step in to impart some wisdom of her own. Her mother, Mary-- while once a good mother, has developed a habit-- as Juan is in and out of prison, seeking to expand his and Blackie's influence on Brighton. Blackie tries to impart the lessons of youth he wishes he got. The value of patience, planning--
tries to impart the perseverance and strength her father has in her. Her grandmother reminds her the importance of a homecooked meal. After the year 2000, her mother is almost never around. She's raised by her grandmother,
Blackie, and the twins. She consistently is top of her class, despite her tumultuous home-life. Blackie adopts a girl to give himself another shot at parenting, seeing his Twins as less his sons than Adah is his daughter. This causes a rift between Blackie and his wife, but she ultimately relents, though her relationship with the girl is cold, Mariko is an expansion of their kingdom. Adah and Mariko, despite an age difference, become fast friends.

2003. Juan is killed in a fire-- the bar-- 'Brighton's Best'-- is burned down. Blackie's family were the targets-- and his wife, and the twins were the targets, and Juan dies trying to save them-- Mariko, however, survives, but is permanently injured. It was part of an attack on Blackie, following his take-over of the trafficking into Brighton. For a time-- he becomes paralyzed. Adah, not knowing how to express herself in anyway outside of her work, graduates early. After reading what her father was really working for in his will, she develops an admiration of his ability to work for those he loved, guilty she never appreciated his love while he was alive. A girl with little friends, and blind ambition, Adah takes up residence with Blackie and Mariko, helping him recover from his loss and figure out next steps. She begins selling weed, to support herself. Mariko disproves.

2008. The generous sum that her father left for her in his will, combined with Blackie's own savings. Is enough to open a strip club, 'Don Juan's'-- darkly in his honor. Blackie wanted Adah to be completely legit-- but she begins using the club to expand into harder narcotics, she's more in charge than him at this point.
Blackie, feeling some pride-- settles into an advisory role-- feeling the pride in her, he wishes he could feel in his own sons and now daughter. Mariko, growing from her adoptive father, attends boarding school.

2010. Blackie dies peacefully in his sleep one cold winter morning. Within months of his passing, Adah opens 'Blackie's.' And again turns to her studies to deal with her grief. After leaving competent managers in her businesses, she dedicated 5 years to travel and completing her post-secondary education. Mariko returns to Brighton for a time, eventually fading away again, from the place that had caused her so much pain. She decides to volunteer in South America. She and Adah date for a time, before she goes to South America. Considering how much like sisters they are, they both agree it's a huge mistake and they'll never repeat it again.

2015. Adah returns to Brighton. Settling into routines of therapy, deals, strippers and occasional vacations. She's resolved to follow her father's dream, on hr own terms. She dreams of power and influence. Mariko has been in and out of town, an accomplished nurse in her own right. They repeat the mistake again. Mariko contiues to leave and return, 'finding herself.' Adah continues to fail in love and succeed at business. She starts sampling products to increase her efficiency in the field.

2017. A storm one night leaves Adah (and Mariko-- though Adah doesn't know this) with... abilities. Like a light switch, she can make people calm and sluggish. She wordless begin utilizing this ability, ultimately uncontrollable 'who' it effects, and how 'strong'-- to it's highest effect, like a master strategist-- without comment.

Ariel Darcs' Haunted Character Sheets

(Dead)

Lily-of-the-Valley

____________________________________________ Lily-of-the-Valley "My life a hell you're making You know I'm yours for just the taking I'd gladly surrender Myself to you body and soul"

Backstory : Lily had a full life before trudging her way across the wasteland of Nevada to find herself as a protector of Westside. As an ex-tribal-- the light skinned, lithe young woman was trained in the art of tribal medicine practically since her birth, making her a very effective medic on the road. But she's also spent time in New Reno and Vegas, working on her gift of gab and her powers of... more amorous persuasion. While she puts on a very clean and made-up appearance, the woman can handle herself in the wasteland-- in a city or settlement, or on the road, thanks to her time as a Crazy Horn and her time as a freelancer. Lily has lived in Westside for the past two years-- and through all the crazy shit she's seen in her time, perhaps the most crazy to happen to her is becoming a respected member of the community. She has friends, and despite one of her occupations being in trading of her own flesh, suitors-- she can gamble freely on the arena fights, and she is intimidating enough in her speech to put a stop to any fights that may break out outside of the community. The scavenge she brings in helps to keep the community afloat, and the tribal salves, medicines and more 'recreational' drugs she is capable of making have started to give the settlement a bit of a reputation, even. The freelancer matriarch is keeping her reasons for taking up the courier's call mum. But anyone who knows her well enough knows it has to do with her mother... with feelings of having failed her tribe.

Full backstory

Some say it takes a village. Lily-of-the-Valley both had and didn't have one.

Originally named Lily-of-the-Oasis, she was born in 2270 in the tribe of the Crazy Horns, a dwindling nomadic tribe that primarily operated in Northern Nevada. Her father was a lowly hunter, and her mother was the tribe witchdoctor and resident psyker. Her tribesmen were like family, regardless of blood. With each member doing their part to raise the child. Tribal life is hard in the wasteland-- all the more when you survive not by combat, but by relying on the guidance of spirits, apparitions, dark forces-- the unknown. In this tribe, babies were miracles from the spirits alone, but a child of the tribe's last living psyker? She was practically born a goddess. Surely under the training of her mother this child would bring about salvation!

So under the training of her mother, Cholla, she went. Starting the day Lily could talk, Cholla set about training her daughter in the old ways of mysticism, herbalism, and living off the land like the Crazy Horns' ancestors of the beforetimes-- teaching her the names of all the flowers and fungi of the region, how to make poultices, potions and poisons and how to use these gifts from the land to keep a body going. By the time Lily was 8, Cholla had Lily serving as the tribe's midwife. By the time Lily was 10 she could be considered an apprentice medium, her mother had her consuming ceremonial herbs on a regular basis to strengthen her connection to the other side. She had communicated with the ghosts of the land itself, had visions of places she was not, and could hear the past.

Yet she had never spent a day playing with her friends-- she didn't even have any. Children her age of the tribe went on hunting trips with their parents and friends, they were learning ways not just to keep body going, but how to keep a community going. Young Lily made it a point to understand the difference. Still, the little flower could barely fire a bow. Her father's face blended into those of the tribe, all faces that looked at her with love... and fear. Everyone smiled at her from a distance. She had a village, but she was solitary. Cholla was more of a mentor than a mother. One day, Lily-of-the-Oasis asked her mother why the two weren't closer, the tribe's witch cryptically replied, "To live in the world of the living and the world of spirits is to tear yourself in two, the decision has been made for us, little Flower, we must honor our gifts." She had said, "Do not let their reverence and fear that tears you, my young one."

Lily didn't argue, but she didn't agree with her mother either. Cholla saw this, but trusted not the spirits-- but her daughter, to do the honorable thing. Despite a growing uneasiness in Lily, this trust was well placed. Years passed and Lily studied the mysticism and shamanism of Crazy Horn ghosts, the tribe survived-- only barely, as a competing, militaristic tribe, the White Legs, grew in the region-- but they did survive, which, for a time, was enough.

Only for a time.

Cholla told of his coming, a 15 year old Lily saw him as well. A New Canaanite dressed in grays, coming to the Crazy Horns with a proposal. The Tribal chief welcomed the self-proclaimed missionary, Daniel, with open arms. Crazy Horn way of life left allies few and far in between, and an alliance with New Canaan could help alleviate some of the tribes sorrows brought about by the growing threat of the White Legs. After a feast and a tribal ceremony welcoming the Mormon stranger, a meeting was held between the Crazy Horns chief, Daniel, the tribe Witchdoctor and her apprentice. Lily marveled at the man as the adults spoke, sure, she had seen ghostly apparitions and beforetime visions with men who looked like Daniel-- but this was her first time seeing such a figure in the flesh, his clothes were alien to her, and the device on his back... She heard the war-chief talk about those; G-U-A-N-Z. Guanz they were called, like bows, but louder, with small and fast arrows.

It was all so impressive to her, in recent memory, the only other time she felt such awe is whenever she could parse a message from the land about the beforetimes-- and half the time the land spoke so cryptically she didn't know what it meant! The meeting was fate, she had concluded in her mind-- important matters were being discussed that pertained to the tribe's future, she scarcely understood any of it. But she certainly wanted to look like she did. English was difficult for her at first, but hearing it from a native speaker in the flesh-- someone who wasn't her mother, anyway-- gave it such a beautiful new life to her. The meeting had much more grave meanings for her mother, the Chief, and the tribe as a whole. But for Lily-of-the-Oasis, it was the day she decided she wanted to leave-- to see the world she had only just now begun to learn about, to learn from ghosts and people and experience everything that inspired awe in her, like the man Daniel.

The following months saw major shifts in the Crazy Horns modus operandi. The Mormon missionary, Daniel, assumed executive power over the tribe in all but name. They stopped moving around and made a home near Zion national park. Hunting stopped being the focus of the tribe, guns were introduced, and those who could, learned how to fight as the skirmishes with the White Legs increased as time passed. Daniel was unsure if he was doing the right thing, but he continued, backed fully by the chief of the tribe.

Cholla spent so much time using her own sight to aid in the coming war with the White Legs that for what felt like the first time in her life, Lily was free. She spent almost all of this free time pestering Daniel, trying to learn of him, the outside, what he called Mormonism, everything-- Of particular interest to her were long range weapons and persuasive tactics of a sensual kind. Guns and boys. Whatever she could gleam from the man, she did. And for a time, she considered the man her friend. Her first real one.

Daniel once famously brought the girl a radio capable of receiving far flung signal, and the girl's head nearly exploded with joy. Ghostly voices that sing for you whenever you want! What *isn't* to love? They bonded, he eventually taught the girl how to speak proper English. When not with Daniel, Lily felt it appropriate to learn how to properly use weaponry-- Lily preferred the precision of long-range scoped rifles. This and more she did with her freedom, she still felt ostracized by her tribes "Fear and reverence" of her, but even without company, she certainly didn't waste her break from the typical way her tribe ran. That brief moment in history may have been some of the best in her young life.

All good things must come to an end though, this particular good thing came to its end a few weeks after her 18th birthday. Cholla had a single vision the day of the Crazy Horn's march on the White Leg encampment, the land preemptively stained with blood told her of their numbers-- their brutality. Grabbing her daughter's hand, she ran faster than the march of every Crazy Horn fighter, stood in front of Daniel, the Tribe Chief and the full Crazy Horn vanguard, and relayed to them the visions. Relayed the warning. For the first time in the tribe's history, a Chief ignored the warnings of one of its Witchdoctors. He followed Daniel, and the tribe followed him, they had the Heavenly Father in the sky on their side, not a few spirits of the ground-- they couldn't lose.

Without a word, Cholla took Lily, returned to camp one last time to get a single Brahmin carrying everything they needed, and they began the long walk back to Nevada. Lily-of-the-Oasis didn't get to say goodbye to her father. She hadn't seen her the man for weeks.

The entirety of the Crazy Horn fighters were brutally slaughtered that night. Any survivors were sold into slavery, eventually becoming property of the Legion. The rest of the tribe scattered, much like Lily-of-the-Oasis and Cholla.

Mother and daughter traveling alone in the wasteland, vulnerable and weak. They should've been easy prey. But three weeks of walking and they found themselves in New Reno. The two relied on the spirits of the desert to keep them safe, help them hunt and find them a place to settle down, and the reliance paid off. Any differences the two had before were wordlessly forgotten in the journey. Lily cried as the ghosts of the land showed her landscapes skewered with the slowly dying corpses of her fellow tribesmen, and Cholla burned with a cold resentment that she hadn't done enough to prevent what Daniel led her people into. Lily got her wish, to leave her tribe and see the world.

But, the question was, at what cost?

Despite tribal origins, Cholla and Lily did well in New Reno. Cholla picked up where she left off in regards to her mystic training in the arts of the witch, however this was tempered with more freedom for Lily, and time for Lily to learn about new things and explore her own interests. Lily was young, and so was renamed after the Valley of death she and her mother had escaped from, no longer the oasis her mother had found in the Crazy Horns. 'Lily-of-the-Valley,' shortened as Lily to better avoid a tribal stigma. Cholla kept her name, not entirely stuck in her old ways, but resigned to the fact that, unlike her daughter, she could never belong to New Reno.

To make caps, the pair charged for holistic, tribal mind/body/soul healing, tribal drugs, poultices, potions, and on occasion poison, and psychic readings. The tragedy brought the two closer with time, and the newfound freedom granted to her by her mother, as well as the life of the city, brought Lily to life.

The second Battle of the Hoover Dam passed, life moved on, New Reno kept on keeping on. As Lily aged, she healthily began to move away from home, taking on a myriad of odd jobs and learning the in's and out's of more wasteland. At 20 she got paid to advertise for a few casinos and clean up after customers at restaurants, at 21 and 22 she tried petty and not so petty thievery-- it went quite well with the use of her tribal visions, her mother didn't approve. For a few months between 22 and 23 she tried merc work, it didn't fit her-- farmhand work fit her even less right before she turned 24. 24 and 25 saw her working as a Cat's Paw prostitute-- she did quite well at that, being what was essentially a "flower child" raised conservatively, sexual liberation fit her well. Like a glove. Or a well lubricated jimmy hat, in this case.

Her mother urged her to leave, but even as she neared her 30's and began to dabble in prospecting, scavenging, and career gambling, she'd still occasionally work as a call girl for a hundred caps or two, she was always lucky enough to avoid the dangerous customers. By 28 she could scavenge with the best of them, she was better at finding specialty items, through her own perception, luck and hallucinogenic/psyker assistance. During this time, she happens upon what she considers her most valuable find-- her Pip-boy 2000, and the ability to listen to those beautiful whenever she wanted.

At the age of 28 her mother's health started fading, she had to stop leaving on prospecting trips so she could spend as much of Cholla's remaining time with her as possible. To stay afloat Lily gambled, cheated, and slept her way from month to motnth. Eventually, she scored a gig that involved serving as a guard-- a sniper in one of the casinos. This, combined with the tribal sales, and an occasional high profile client, allowed her to better reliably afford her mother's medical expenses, and remain close to her mother, watching over her in her decaying health.

Cholla died sleeping next to her daughter, full of regrets the she had failed her tribe, but happy she'd at least succeeded her daughter.

Lily worked through the sadness of her loss. She eventually grow tired with Reno and head south. Impressed by the nation the courier had built, blissfully unaware of how she had missed the man by a few years in Zion. Eventually, the ex-Tribal made her way to Westside. She works for herself-- occasionally as a call girl, mostly scaving so that she can continue to sell the hallucinogens and healing salves of her tribe-- she tries to be a guiding figure in her little corner of the wasteland, but she knows she's not immune to sin or it's temptations.

In a certain sense: she's content. The caps are good, she lives in a tight-knit settlement under the protection of the Courier, she's a voice of the community with admirers and fans-- she even does well gambling her caps away on fights at The Thorn. In another sense, though, she feels fed up with being where she is-- she never forgot her childhood dream of seeing the world, to honor her gift for her mother, to do... rebuild... or something.

Ghosts whispered from the lands one night of an opportunity to hear more from the land. Lily-of-the-Valley didn't turn a blind eye to the sign.

---

roleplayerguild.com/topics/182590-acc…

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

That doesn't matter. The country they invaded was also capitalist and the people there live better now under a government that at least pretends to be secular and such. Not to mention, the war in the middle east only went on to bring huge monetary losses even if nefarious ebil American Imperialist ambitions were behind it.

@Andreyich

Funding Imperialism is bad, and I feel like it probably does matter.

We're not arguing about it's business practice but about business overall. Business puts these laws there in the first place, at most you can blame microsoft for violating laws that it - by extension - placed upon itself which is not a very smart thing to do.

@Andreyich

You don't see anything wrong with the business making the rules for itself?

But art was commodified before the existence of money; people couldn't just make it on spare time, prehistoric artists would have someone bringing them their food in exchange for their works.

@Andreyich

No, hunter-gatherers literally just did it in their free time.

It seems, that before the invention of capitalism it was already better than communism.

@Andreyich

Considering it wasn't capitalism you aren't wrong.

Not to mention, that it is the choice of the artist to monetize their art. As such, you should blame the artists rather than capitalism. I for one wouldn't mind shooting a hipster making music on soundcloud, they are annoying fucks aren't they?

@Andreyich

🔥🔥🔥

People don't suffer, they only do better by it. Communism was tried over and over (no matter how much you bitch and whine that it wasn't real communism) and it didn't work,

@Andreyich

Who the hell cares what real communism is? The system we have now ISN'T working for everyone. Also again-- Catalonia.

stop trying to destroy stable society

@Andreyich

Well this is a different issue entirely but lol no.

The environmental concern is also a kind of bullshit thing to bring up too since it's just there to make you look like the good guy freedom fighter against us ebil imperialists wanting to save the earth.

@Andreyich

Oh, fuck off. I'm not even a communist, I should specify-- just an anti-capitalist, and fairly clearly an anti-statist and it's literally for this reason. Who the hell cares how anyone looks? Society, today, is based on expansion that's not sustainable, and not nearly enough people are living outside of the capitalist systems that encourage wasteful lifestyles in first world and western nations for it not to be a problem.

In truth, socialist Chile was razing and clearing forests and Vietnam has so much fucking smog that cars are all but banned there. Communist countries are always very backwards and still haven't even heard of alternative fuel sources. So once again, Capitalists are heroes and communists are the ones turning our planet to shit.

@Andreyich

In a statist system no one can really be considered a hero-- and I think you know it's the sign of a weak argument when you try to oversimplify it like that.

We are not complicit in the crimes of the one percent, I know I'm not.

@Andreyich

I mean, we are. If want to say you're not, fine. But our lives in one way or another, fuels their crimes. So I mean, you are, lmao.

I don't eat McDonald's and I eat mama's cutlets instead, I don't drink your filthy coca cola but make my own Kvass from shit I grow in my backyard and in a few vases. So once more, you're plain wrong and your argument continuously trips up over itself.

@Andreyich

Sure.

Your points aren't really worth addressing, because it's clear there's no room for common ground or even intellectual honesty at this point.

@SleepingSilence

Well, they are. But if you don't want to address them that's fine lmao. Let me address yours.

Well you're completely wrong and know jack,

@SleepingSilence

Jeez, you sound like every subconscious thought I have in every waking moment.

and apparently can't even read like the other person that commented to me. :D I said she uses rocks and things she finds/makes. She doesn't use things you'd immediately assume is in most common jewelry...

@SleepingSilence

Okay????

And if taxes have fuck all to do with anything, why the hell do I have to answer that? Do you pay taxes?

@SleepingSilence

Yes! I pay taxes and it sucks knowing you go to jail if you don't provide financial backing for wars of exploitation, among all the other illegal shit the state conducts. How do you change the system if you're a cog of it, just by working so you don't go hungry?

Yes, they are. A singer is a professional, it makes money. THEY DID BUILD THAT. And it doesn't exploit afghan children...

@SleepingSilence

But the system they operate in does???????

Contradiction levels off the charts.

@SleepingSilence

Ah, focusing on semantics to win an internet argument eh? You might strike the killing blow to anarchists after all.