January

Celestial Bonds

---

𝓝𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝟕𝓽𝓱, 𝟏𝟑𝟐𝟕 / / 𝓐𝓾𝓼𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓭 / / 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 / / 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

---

Gabriel never thought his life would take such an unexpected turn.

He would have been fine with routine. He liked it. Had worked and built his own comfortable life around it. Arden was included then, and he was still with him now. But magic was a different beast altogether; Gabe did not know how to tackle it. It felt like a fairy tale. Something his father would read to him in the distant past. Except now, it seemed he and Arden were in one.

He felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, had it not been so real. The ‘magic’ was right there, just lurking beneath his fingertips. At a moment’s notice, Gabe knew he could draw it out as easily as breathing, only that he chose not to. Because it was absolutely ridiculous. Why would someone such as him be chosen? Arden would have come as no surprise; he was like magic in a way, bright and beautiful and simply…divine. But now, they were in this together, and there was no backing out. Gabe would just have to make sure they would both make it out alive.

If they could make it out, that was. For all he knew, his way of life was over. There was no going back.

That prospect scared Gabe more than it should, so he tried to shake that line of thoughts, standing up abruptly and stalking over to the nearby desk, where a pitcher of water was. Forgoing the cup, the hunter chugged straight from the pitcher, thankful for sweet drink the servants were so readily provided. At least Arden would be comfortable here, or he hoped. He knew his friend had always pushed himself too hard back at the cottage, and the life of a hunter hadn’t always treated the former noble too well. At least this would be something Arden deserved? Would he prefer this to the cabin in woods?

Did he prefer this, in the first place?

His gaze drifted to the sleeping body on the bed. Maybe he would ask later.

Thankfully, the help knocked right at that moment, relieving Gabe from his rumination. Apparently, they were expected at dinner to present themselves before the lord of this mansion and get introduced to other bonded pairs. Gabe only nodded stiffly at the older servant, before quickly shutting the door and cutting him off. Afterward, he went over to where Arden was napping on the bed, nudging gently at his friend’s shoulder.

Arden stirred, but didn’t wake, sleep having settled quite soundly by then. He dreamed of a rustic forest cottage where the light crackling of firewood remained a steady background accompaniment to the scents of cooking meats and boiled herbs. But most of all he dreamed of the friend he had known almost all his life, whittling new arrow shafts by firelight while the flickering flame cast tantalizing shadows over taut shoulders and the graceful lines of defined muscles. In warmer weather, Gabe rarely wore his tunic indoors.

A gentle touch against his shoulder from an unknown source and the dream moved to a bed, like he had always been there, Gabe’s arms around him because the cottage had room enough for a single bed and Gabe had refused to let him sleep on the floor. That made him happy. Every little thing.

A small smile from Gabe was all he ever needed in a day. And maybe he could hope the smiles meant something more.

Arden only smiled as Gabe nudged him, his dream taking the gentle touch in stride and weaving it in seamlessly.

Gabe’s touches grew persistent when it was clear that his friend wouldn’t get out of bed on his own anytime soon.

“Dinner’s ready.” -He pinched Arden’s cheek lightly, only to get a quiet hum in response, Arden’s cozy dream permeating the hunter’s mood as well. That was a new thing he also had to get used to, this strange new bond they shared. At times, he would feel Arden’s emotions leaking through should he focus enough. And if he wanted, he and Arden could communicate via pure thoughts alone. This magic was strange and scary for Gabe, who had known only bows and traps and knives all his life. But if he were to be bound with anyone at all, that person might as well be Arden.

He was comfortable with Arden’s presence, and he knew his friend felt the same.

But their dinner waited. And he dared not to invoke the wrath of those lords and ladies.

Slipping one hand under Arden’s arm, he lifted his friend up from the comforting warmth of the bed. At that, Arden blinked awake sheepishly, turning his face towards Gabe’s chest and snuggling tight in an attempt to chase dreams. The hunter sighed, letting his friend indulge for a few moments before beginning to rock the smaller body gently.

“Gabe…” a voice finally answered, still heavy with sleep. It was neither a call nor an announcement, the tone faded like Arden was simply saying the name because he wanted to. A moment of feeling later and that thought was confirmed.

“They say food’s ready.”

“…Mm…” The faint response as Arden started drifting off once more.

“Arden.” -Gabe sighed, slowly pulling his friend to the edge of the bed. The ritual then the trip had been exhausting, but he didn’t want anyone causing trouble for Arden if he slept through dinner. Luckily the dozing knight blinked awake again and clutched at Gabe’s shoulders, sitting up slowly and leaning heavily on his friend’s torso.

“…I wanted to keep dreaming about you,” the sleepy voice murmured. ”It was a nice dream.”

“It was.” -Gabe agreed, having already felt Arden’s contentment through their bond -”Aren’t you hungry?”

”What are you making today?” Arden still leaned against Gabe with his eyes closed, sitting almost on the hunter’s lap as he waited for sleep to slide away.

“I didn’t.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t cook. But there is dinner.”

It dawned then on Arden as the recent memories resurfaced that they weren’t home and they wouldn’t be for a long time. A pang of sadness shot through their bond before Arden sat up straight, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other held on to Gabe’s. He felt a responding twang of fear as well, though he didn’t understand what for. Still he rubbed a thumb over Gabe’s knuckles.

”It’s okay. Let me straighten my clothes and we can have dinner. You must be hungry.”

“What about…clothes?” -Gabe looked up, barely a twitch in his stony expression, but Arden could feel fear and anxiety emanating from the other side of the bond. His concerns were justified, as they were still wearing their usual hunting garbs, and Arden had told him times and times again about the strict dress code in his dinner parties.

“This is all we have. If they don’t understand that, it’s a shame.” Arden reached up to stroke Gabe’s hair instinctively, the jolts of fear on the other end triggering an innate desire to help Gabe calm down. “Don’t worry. No matter what, I’ll be right here.”

“Alright.” -Gabe nodded -”There are new clothes in the wardrobe. If you want. For…appearance?” -It was one of those words that Gabe didn’t completely understand, but Arden had mentioned enough times in his stories. Wasn’t that important to noblemen?

“Would you like to wear them?” A glimmer of humor from the blonde.

“I don’t know.”- Gabe tilted his head -”What about you?”

“You’re so worried,” Arden replied, a small smile forming on his face. “Here, I’ll help you get dressed then.”

Gabe only nodded, fear now was replaced with anticipation and uncertainty. Arden had seen him naked before, certainly, and had dressed him as well, but that was in the safety of their small forest cottage and never with the worry of being judged. Sensing the concern, Arden ran a hand through Gabe’s hair again, combing down the stray strands and messy locks before undoing the laces of Gabe’s tunic and letting the hunter remove the top. First was the soft underclothing—fine white silk that went under an embroidered vest, the ruffled cuffs and neckline pulled over the outer shirt. Gold-buttoned trousers came next in black cotton, the ends tucked into knee-high boots inlaid with silver filigree, finished with extraneous, but attractive metallic spats. For the finishing touch, Arden wet his hands with a light spray of scented oil from their own bags, sculpting back the hunter’s unruly mane until it was a trim, low-hanging ponytail, the ends curled with a swift wrap around the fingers and release.

Stepping back, Arden took in the sight of Gabe’s archer physique in the ornamentation of the wealthy, sucking in a quick breath at the resulting rugged nobleman that stood in front of him.

After a moment though, he laughed.

“I think I like you better as just Gabe, really. But right now? You look like a king’s ransom.”

“What’s a king’s ransom?” -Gabe fiddled with the ruffled cuff on his left hand, wondering about their function. They felt entirely redundant to him, but then again, a lot of things noblemen did were.

“Something they would trade a king for,” Arden replied, stepping closer and running his hands over the curve of Gabe’s shoulder.

“Only you would do that.” -The hunter let him, comfortable with Arden’s touches -”You’re not a very good merchant, then.”

”Well, my family disowned me for a reason. I’m sure that’s part of it,” he replied, turning to look for his own clothes. Deciding he liked the idea of being thematically bonded as well, he donned a similar outfit, choosing faded green and earth tones to Gabe’s muted blue hues and dark grays.

“They didn’t know what they lost.”

“…You’re a silly sweet thing.” A bit of teasing on the tongue and Arden bowed, motioning for the door with a flourish. “Shall we dine, my king?”

That remark managed to draw out a small smile from the stoic Gabe.

“I’m no king.” -The hunter retorted, but he played along regardless, walking out with Arden at his side. However, the closer they got to the dining hall, the more nervous Gabe got. Almost instinctive, he inched closer to his friend, grabbing onto his arm as they walked.

His stomach was in knots by the time they found their seats, and Gabe just couldn’t stop watching the servants flitting back and forth through the doorway as if he wish he could just leave like them.

At least, there was food in front of them. More food that what he knew what to do with, actually. Were they to eat everything? Gabe picked up a fork and stabbed at a piece of sausage before bringing it to his mouth, eating intently. Maybe if he were eating, they would let him skip the introduction. Noticing his companion’s discomfort, Arden rubbed Gabe’s unoccupied hand in slow, soothing motions, remaining by his partner's side for the moment.

He leaned in with a whisper of “Even eating like that you look splendid,” the quiet compliment and half-joke sincere.

The only respond to the compliment was a flat look from Gabe, but through their bond, Arden could tell the hunter had calmed down quite a bit, turning back to his meal with fervor. The trip here had been tiring, and with so much food laid out in front of him, Gabe was determined to let none go to waste as Regis introduced Rose-Marie. The name didn't ring a bell for Arden, but, then again, he had been far from the social circles of nobility for a long time.

Deciding to take care of pleasantries sooner than later, Arden walked to his seat across from Gabe, turning to the gathered guests with a bow and his finest manners on display. “Good evening, my lords and ladies. I speak for both my partner and myself when I say we’re honored to be among those gathered here. This,” he gestured lightly towards Gabe, “is Gabriel of Marvik, a humble hunter. I am his knight, Arden…of Marvik.” The pause was a millisecond, but noticeable in the otherwise smooth delivery. “Our bond is ideal for reconnaissance and precision strikes at enemy forces, though we do boast raw strength should wanton destruction be required. I turn into Gabriel’s loyal beast—any creature within my mind’s grasp—-while he concentrates or dilutes the strength of my forms, among other things. We hope to be of service to Grenheim and its radiant future.”

Another bow followed and Arden seated himself, selecting choice cuts of meat to place on Gabe’s plate. “Did you want anything else?” he asked quietly, doting regardless of the setting.

Gabe only shook his head, mouth still occupied with an ungodly amount of meat and potato. The hunter quickly turned back to his plate then, hard at work to demolish the pile of meat Arden had put in front of him.

You should eat too. A flash of concern flashed through their bond though Do we have to eat everything? Arden’s laugh cleared out the worry. Of course not. Eat what you like.

With the assurance, Gabe was relaxed once more, and he hunched over the plate of food, wolfing down his portion with little regard for others at the table.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕒 / / 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟛𝟘

---

There was a safehouse for the remaining Amigos in one of the many storage buildings of the Oak Island Fishing Charters, the location set up prior to their deployment. They abandoned the ferry near the waterway intersection at Pinner Point and walked from there, Nathaniel carrying the mutilated Angel in a large duffel bag they found on the ferry that had once carried various fishing tools and basic supplies. He was countering the otherwise unwieldy weight with his telekinesis, recovered just slightly from the effects of Teitel’s weapons. Once the power had finally released after the tidal wave, Nathaniel had dropped unconscious and at the mercy of his fellow gang members who, to his surprise, did not slit his throat then and there. Perhaps because they realized without him they had no real firepower.

He had awoken inside the ferry’s only cabin, beside the unconscious girl’s upper body. No words had been exchanged then, but he knew an owed favor when he saw one. Thi had worked her surgical magic once more and now he was running on an overdose of adrenaline and heightened senses. Just enough to reach the safe house awake and without needing support to walk.

It was unfortunate for the girl, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time while they had secondary orders as well. But fortunate for them. Whatever else they failed to do, this alternative mission required one of Zhang’s pets brought back alive, even if barely living was all they could manage.

And it had all worked out, more or less, and the slow crunching of gravel underneath his boots kept him focused and awake on the end fringes of his stamina, their chosen path hooking and weaving through many abandoned charter stations until they reached a large, wooden building, no different from the rest of the drab and dreary types lining the waterway. But it was the safehouse. A place to wait for a long-range teleporter to come get them. Or for more conventional methods of travel, if one couldn’t spare the time.

A different group had been there first to supply them with sleeping rolls and basic nonperishables hidden in cardboard boxes along the wall. Small flashlights and a first-aid kit lay under a ragged tarp in the corner, along with various sets of warm clothes that loosely fit them and would have been far too large for someone like Isabelle or Chuck. Moth-eaten sofas lay scattered around the room, their presence from decades past.

Nathaniel’s thoughts refused to linger on the lost teammates, focusing instead on the partial human inside his bag.

”Thi, fix her—just enough.” He threw the bag near the woman’s feet, dropping into a nearby sofa that coughed up a plume of dust in response to his presence. He pushed the particles away in a spray of telekinetic irritation, laying down to gather as much rest as he could while Thi set to work revamping the functions of Angel’s organs and tapping into the body’s reserve storage of energy, stimulating usage of the girl’s fat during their wait period while numbing her nerves and sense of hunger. She triggered the body’s natural sedatives, too, finishing for the moment with a perfect, but ghastly suture across the vertical of the torso, the line nestled between the amputated breasts.

No teleporter came for them that time. Instead a lone van drove up several hours later and parked by the near roadside while the hooded men in nondescript clothing that all covered their necks stepped out and knocked carefully on the door of the storage house. Thi answered first, scalpels in hand and her frightening glove of needle-like feelers prepared to tear through the throats of any enemies. But the gesture of running a finger from the center of their forehead to the tip of their nose was enough to identify whose loyalties were present.

Ian stopped playing with the bits of sand and dirt in the room, the swirling miniature sandstorm falling away as he shook Nathaniel awake and picked up Angel by the handle that Thi had carved and attached onto the girl’s upper back from sections of hip bone.

Unaccustomed to Thi’s methods, their transport stared at the limbless girl until a weary and cranky Nathaniel shoved past them to the car. It was time to deliver at last and he was ready to be done with the half-botched mission.

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟘𝟛𝟘

---

The island suffered its share of harried activity in the aftermath with Margot’s various copies scouring every corner of the small landspace for more enemies and finding only a skulking Aubrey in his quite literal man cave within the underground tunnels of the island. Chuck, meanwhile, had been handily cuffed with enough suppressors to render him little more than a late teenage boy who had made some awful decisions. He was packed into a separate helicopter by three Margots while another attached a new cuff to Kusari’s neck, the silver band with its translucent coating sealing together seamlessly—an upgraded version from their original cuffs.

”Not sure what happened, but I’m gonna take a while guess and say you’re probably not looking to lose your head any time soon.”

True to her word, the mercenary had notified Zhang the moment she received Zoe’s information, one of her many selves relaying the news once a good connection was established. Silence had met her on the other end and then a termination of the message channel. It would have been easy chalking it all up to the woman being a royal bitch but Margot knew better. It more more likely that Zhang was in a panic and coping with it the only way the woman knew how—by tackling every task as efficiently and robotically as possible until she found a way to settle events within her reasonable control again.

While preparations and restoration went on, Margot’s personal squad took up defensive positions around the estate and her own replicas ushered the two groups of students onto one of the helicopters.

The flight was muffled within the helicopter’s cabin and the trip clocked in a little over three hours of flight with a brief refueling stop while clouds and open land slid past the view below them. Crimen Culpae 1 came into view as the helicopter neared its final destination. Dipping lower, signs of a battle on the school’s grounds became immediately apparent with central buildings still in the process of slow, magical reconstruction while outcroppings of shattered edifices relied on more mundane means of contractors and scaffolding. Large piles of debris had been carefully swept off the Institute grounds while a distant, gargantuan Miranda slowly prowled the city outskirts, movements so slow that continuous viewing could barely discern any progress.

The school’s central buildings remained intact and a worried Rosa stood near the helicopter landing pad situated on the roof of a research building, waiting to see the state of the students. Before they even landed, however, she was already leaving, a call on her phone sending her sprinting to the nearest elevator. She managed a quick wave at the approaching helicopter, but nothing more.

On landing the Institute’s soldiers resumed their careful chaperoning, nudging the students into the main hallway and down a different elevator, before leading them out of the building’s lobby and setting them loose with a quick gesture to leave.

A researcher in a blue lab coat with her blonde hair twisted into a loose bun behind her head passed by the group on their way out and looked at them oddly, but resumed her business after a glare from one of the soldiers, hurrying into the building to get out of sight.

Aside from the small encounter and the remnants of devastation surrounding them, they were, apparently, home sweet home.

---

?????? / / ?????? / / ?????? / / ??????

---

”…makes them special?”

”…possible to…and repurpose for…”

”—not sure this is related to—”

”Washington’s attack wasn’t Fracture’s plan either—”

”Do you think Dreamcatcher…notice that…”

”…is it awake?”

Snippets of conversation in unfamiliar voices faded in and out for Angel, lost in a haze of drugs and supernatural surgery, until she awoke limbless and artfully attached by metallic spokes to a freestanding cube frame of iron and steel isolated in a windowless cement room that, with all the protruding pipelines, looked like the basement of some commercial building. Four metal poles extended diagonally inward from the box’s four edges, suspending the amputated torso in the center. At the junction of flesh and steel, the surgeon had grafted bone to metal, making the grotesque framework effectively a part of the girl now. She was naked, though there was little left to see. Breasts had been replaced with more metal girding holding her in place, smaller rungs of iron fastened tightly to her exposed ribcage, the skin and flesh above each incision removed in perfect circles.

What remained of her lower body had been entirely redefined, a large portion of her innards easily visible with metal waste tubes extending from her truncated intestines and draining into an accessible sewer line nearby, the end of the tube bolted into place against the larger pipe. A large container of clear liquid siphoned nutrients and hydration into the partial body, the thin, flexible lines of rubber inserted directly into her stomach and feeding her directly. Other hollow threads redirected excretions from the kidneys into the same waste tube and further threads kept the intestines neatly packed under her ribs.

The room was empty when she woke up. A single bulb of light on the ceiling provided sufficient illumination, but there was no mistaking what had become of her body. As if in cruel jest, a tall mirror had been placed on the wall across from her, the polished look of it out of place in the dismal room.

And if she screamed, she would hear no sound.

---

OOC Notes

One IC week of interaction time. Have fun with that. IC time ends 14 October 2020 at 0500.

Celestial Bonds

Knight: Arden Harwell

_{Art by Pearlpencil}

Average in height and slim of frame, Arden's silhouette looks no different from the average citizen of Grenheim, though he bears the relatively smooth fingers and bright face of the financially wealthy in stark contrast to much of the exhausted working population. His father's lineage grants him pale blonde hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes while his mother's more exotic blood shapes his eyes almond and smooths away his father's strong jaw, leaving Arden's face with a delicate combination of narrow chin, rosy lips, and the soft curves of an ingénue.

Blessed with attractive facial features usually meant for the other sex and a slender build, Arden doesn't mind dolling himself up often in tailored robes and priceless jewelry to attend his family's banquets and parties, enjoying in brief durations the ability to catch almost all the eyes in a room. When with Gabe, however, the young noble prefers a simple white tunic and dark, sturdy trousers, wanting to forage into the depths of the woods alongside his steadfast childhood friend.

The fourth son of a merchant family recently come into aristocracy through marriage to a minor noble house of Grenheim, Arden was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a relative freedom of expression compared to his older brothers. He lived carefree and curious for much of his childhood until he encountered the 12-year-old Gabriel waiting quietly at the servants' entrance to the Harwell estate. Ever careless and questioning, Arden had approached as Gabriel's father gave the mansion's assistant chef the first pick of freshly butchered game. In awe at the quantity of red, bleeding meat on display, the boy had cried out, drawing all the attention he needed.

The old hunter, not wishing to draw any noble's ire, had urged his taciturn son to play with Arden while he discussed purchases and selections with the head chef.

The two have remained friends since, with Arden waiting weekly at the servants' entrance to pester Gabe for yet more tales of dramatic hunts and crafty solutions to even craftier wildlife. In time, Arden was allowed to visit Gabe's cottage deep in the forest as long as he had servant accompaniment. By the time the teenager was 14, he had been given reluctant freedom to venture forth alone as long as he returned soon after sundown. The two had established a minor ritual at this point where food would always be ready--one way or another--when Arden visited. Either Arden brought with him a basket of the chef's finest to share with Gabe or Gabe had the day's kill prepared and cooked for his friend. They spent hours lounging with one another on free days or Arden would keep Gabe company as he fletched arrows and sharpened knives for his father.

The freedom wouldn't last, however, as his family's tenuous status as aristocracy remained a subject of scorn and rejection in the upper circles whose money derived from old blood. The Harwell family was considered upstarts at best and peasants playing at status at worst. To rectify the increasing disdain, Giles Harwell--the feared head of the family--looked for marriages of convenience to further cement the family name in the annals of the luxurious. Arden was no exception to his father's ambitions and soon he, too, found himself fending off arranged meetings and supervised dates with the girls of more reputable families.

Conniving even in his old age, Giles had arranged meetings and parties for the families of nobles who retained their status, but had lost much of their money, hinting at the Harwell coffers during negotiations for marriages. Strains of desperation snaked across both parties and there was no shortage of suitable families to marry into.

In the frenzy of socially mandatory events and parties, Arden found few moments that year to visit Gabe, though even those infrequent visits revealed that Gabe's father was unwell. Before a brutal winter struck Grenheim, he managed to bring the family of two a large basket of preserved meats and medicines, along with an unwitting mule carting along firewood, oil lamps, warm clothes. and thick fur blanketing, urging Gabe to stay safe and wishing his father well.

Blizzards raged on and off throughout the cold months and when spring began thawing the ice-packed ground, Gabe's father died in his sleep. In the aftermath of the loss, Arden was there, the breakwater that Gabe's grief needed to finally subside, until the orphaned hunter could find his way once more.

From one disaster to another, Arden was soon disowned for the offense of rejecting marriage from a powerful noble family--an offer his father had spent half a year bringing to fruition. His reasoning was simply that he felt nothing for the girl, lovely as she was. When screams and slaps could not convince him, he was cast out of the family to save face and the outcast ex-aristocrat found himself turning to the only person he hoped would let him stay. And Gabe did not refuse.

For the past two years Arden has lived with Gabe, in something of a dreamlike paradise for the now-peasant, who misses the sweets of the mansion but finds far more comfort in the steady, unwavering loyalty of his friend. They've found each other through thick and thin and both have sacrificed more than his fair share for the other, coexisting in perfect harmony. The day the emperor's missive found them, Arden had given Gabe the choice, knowing as they both did the state of the country and the fragile peace they had enjoyed until then. If they wanted something better and the emperor's mages believed they had the power to change the course of the world's state, then they would fight for it.

Arden is both insecure and strong-willed, the sort who will put his genuine efforts into something he wants to accomplish, but feels that he's never good enough to achieve it. Regardless, he'll keep at it, whether it's trying to string a bow and failing repeatedly or helping Gabe tend to the small garden behind the cottage without killing the plants. He doesn't realize it, but practice does make perfect and for all his lack of belief in himself Arden is improving in everything he insists on doing. Conversely, he has the utmost faith in Gabe, come hell or high water. Should an omnipotent deity declare that Gabe is untrustworthy, Arden would laugh in its face. To him, even a lie from Gabe is a truth to be believed until the hunter reveals otherwise.

With Gabe, Arden is a doting friend, always careful to attend to every chore and need Gabe requires after a hard day of hunting and tracking. By now the two have recognized the physical tells of each other so well that Gabe need only raise his head to ask for water and he would find a cup already by his side. Once he had settled into the less extravagant life of a hunter, Arden became accustomed to bringing the butchered meats to market, dauntless in the face of jeers and laughter whenever any old acquaintances recognized him. He's happy where he is and wouldn't trade Gabe for the world.

In what Arden considers his previous life as an aristocrat, he was superficially amicable and always able to tack himself onto a conversation without much semblance of intrusion. Capable of keeping at least a straight face even in the face of direct mockery, Arden saves his emotional outbursts and rants for visits with Gabe where he would regale the quiet hunter with all the most frustrating people and events while eating as much cake as his stomach would allow in an effort to improve his mood. His social skills haven't deteriorated--rather, with the new circumstances of his demoted status, he has had to sharpen them all the more while rumors spread and laughter follows.

Devotion.

Arden would die for Gabe, without hesitation. More importantly, he would live for Gabe as well, seeking actions in his friend's best interests as his eternal gratitude for the way Gabe neither judged nor patronized him the day he lost his social status. Arden's loyalty is ferocious and despite his normal lack of combat abilities he will always step in to defend the curt Gabe when words fail and fists fly.

Gabriel of Marvik (Gabe)

Located on the front of his left hip. Glows faintly with a soft hue of mixed blues, purples, and greens.

Normally, Arden has no combat prowess and falters at fighting even woodland creatures, preferring household chores and gardening to violence for the sake of some greater purpose. He's tenacious when he does get going, but hardly skilled.

As a knight, Arden turns into the dangerous beasts of the forests he so often wishes to hunt, with a supernatural twist of excessive speed and strength. Any animal form he takes is much larger and deadlier than their normal counterparts, though he has the ability to shift into smaller, weaker animals for reconnaissance. The ability comes with the natural (and enhanced) instincts and talents his chosen animal form possesses, but inflicts a more feral and primitive influence on Arden's mind. He retains human consciousness, but will find animalistic tendencies and instincts incredibly hard to resist, if not entirely impossible. When pushed too far and for too long, the only thing that will keep his mind from disappearing entirely is the magic of his Gear. At the critical point, he will recognize only Gabe and attack anyone else indiscriminately.

Hunting knives and a shortbow that he is proficient in, though he misses far more often than he likes. He still needs Gabe's help to fletch arrows and often loses his quiver.


In combat: ranged attacks, sounds/smells/lights intended to overwhelm his enhanced animal senses. As a person: anything that concerns Gabe and anyone who can throw a decent punch.




Gleipnir


Collar

Arden manifests a thin, nondescript band of silver around his neck as wide as a human finger.

The Gear grants Arden the ability to shift animal forms at will (though he needs to remain still for 5-10 seconds to fully shift and the transformations are easily interrupted should he move or be struck) and to a larger-than-normal size. He can only shift into the forms of creatures he has already seen. Certain spells terrifyingly enhances Arden's ability at the cost of feral instinct consuming his mind, but the collar also allows Gabe to keep perfect control over his knight, even at the worst of moments.

Gabe, rainy days, cakes, cozy dinners by the fire, soft music, and learning new things.


Social rules, bitter foods, the cold, people who talk over him, business-related functions, and especially arranged marriages.


Cleaning, knitting, gardening, learning how to hunt, and pampering Gabe.


For Better, For Worse, For Richer, For Poorer: Demi Lovato - "Tell Me You Love Me (NOTD Remix)"
In Sickness and In Health: /KXLD. & Rythmatical - "One Day (ft. Kim Chi Sun)"
'Til Death Do Us Part: Aurora - "Running With The Wolves"

• Nice handwriting; awful poetry.
• Eats a lot more than his size lets on.
• Can hold his alcohol.
• Good at following recipes, but somehow always messes up the final dish. Sticks to simple dishes.
• Has feelings for Gabe that he will take to his grave.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝔸𝕣𝕖𝕒 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟝

---

The storm had finally passed through the area and by then Zhang’s private military forces had long been dispatched, a special squadron kept under direct communication with Kardos and entirely separate from both the government forces assigned to USARILN East and the bolstering additions of hired PMCs. Three tandem-rotor helicopters received supplies, weapons, and a ten-man team before lifting off from their base in Nassau and flying along the coastline over the waters of the Bermuda.

Their arrival was, as expected, too late after the storm and the escaped Amigos had long vanished from sight, skirting the abandoned Fort Caswell nearby and untraceable in the Intracoastal Waterway that easily expedited their path to a safe house. Too many rivers and exit points branched from the Waterway to check and the soldiers had no interest in hunting the Amigos at the moment regardless. They were more interested in securing the island and the estate, in particular the students still alive.

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝔼𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟝

---

In a half-destroyed house at the edge of the subnatural settlement, a flash of blue-streaked hair ended when the teenage boy collapsed into a chair, breaths coming in desperate and ragged. Of all people, he should have been able to escape first, but by now the other Amigos were either gone or dead, though the wall of water he had seen earlier was enough indication that Nathaniel at least was alive.

And he had seen Isabelle die with his own eyes. Few people liked her—and they were justified. Half-crazy and doped up on drugs nearly all the time, Isabelle wasn’t anyone’s first choice for company. But she hadn’t minded when Chuck stayed in her hovel of a home, the tiny townhouse bare minimum lodgings provided by the Father when it became clear there was no point granting Isabelle luxuries. All she cared for was her drugs and the soothing high that accompanied them. At first it had been curiosity—one of their better subnaturals living like a dog—but it became clear enough when Isabelle spent nearly all her free time wreaking havoc in her home or dazed on the sofa, lost in chemical dreams.

But she had her lucid moments, rare though they were between the rage of her crashes and the insanity of her highs.

“Chuck, was it?”

He remembered bruised legs hanging off the bed while her arms drew nonsense in the air, the scatter of heroin injections like small patches of freckles on her pasty skin. He hadn’t answered, sitting at the unbalanced dining table nearby because Isabelle had sliced away one of the table’s legs and Chuck had tried to duct tape it back together, only to have her kick at that same leg later.

“Why’re you always around here, moleque? It smells here. ‘Cuz I don’t wash anything. And it’s gross. ‘Cuz I don’t clean anything.”

He remembered telling her he didn’t know and knowing it wasn’t true.

“Maybe I like the company, too,” she had answered, guessing the reason. “Maybe I’ll dye your boring hair sometime.”

He remembered thinking she was lucid when she told him to run.

The scent of blood still clung to him, lingering even though the splatters on his windbreaker had dried. He didn’t know if the person behind the drugs and the psychosis was worth it, but he missed her all the same.

They knew what their ends had to inevitably be, but Isabelle had been unpredictable to the last. The group looked down on her. Hated her, even, for various reasons, but none of them would have told him to run. In a sudden burst of fear and anxiety that he had been holding back since their first encounter with the soldiers, the teenager finally felt the shudders of dry sobs wracking his body. Alone, without even Isabelle, he was almost defenseless. That should have been the worst part. But against all logic his heaviest emotions sprang from the grief of her death.

He had asked her once why she used so many drugs.

“God helps those who help themselves, Chuck. And amen.”

”…Amen, Isabelle,” he whispered, sitting up and pressing fingers to his eyes. He didn’t know what she would say to him like this—ever impossible to guess—but she wouldn’t be resting any more than absolutely necessary.

He needed to find transportation. Or at least a place to hide until he could figure out a way off the island. The collapsed caves they had chased the generator mage into came to mind and he decided to let his fatigue recover first before making the jumps there.

The sound of helicopters caught his attention first and he didn’t need to be Thi to put two and two together. He crouched low, watching the specks in the sky turn into his ticket off the island. His small pocket knife had been useless the entire time, but now he wondered if he could put it to good use. It was a reckless plan, but with the ferry gone he had no way of knowing when any future transportation would arrive, especially since the island’s inhabitants never seemed to travel.

His palm ached with the pressure of the knife’s handle.

”…Amen.”

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟝

---

Aldrich had finished checking the bodies of the dead subnaturals by the time Zhang’s reinforcements arrived proper, the helicopters touching down in the large clearing around the estate. A tall, brutish woman with short black hair swept back across her head stepped out in black body armor ahead of the other nine soldiers, pausing at the sight of Aldrich. She scowled, the piercing at the right corner of her lips accentuating her distaste. An angry scar marred the left side of her jaw, running ragged to her nose while an old, vicious burn across her left temple ruined the remaining skin on that half of her face.

“Margot,” the older man greeted, though his face remained carefully neutral.

”And here I thought I’d finally find you in pieces,” she growled back, voice coarse from years of chain smoking.

”If you’re looking for the students, they’re in town. Safe, I assume. We lost one.”

”Not my business. I’m just here to retrieve what’s left.” She gestured to the other nine soldiers to remain at the estate, heading into town alone. A hand scratched at the mark on her neck, scraping the rough fabric of the uniform’s collar against her skin. It was just an old habit now. That infernal itch had long ago vanished.

---

OOC Notes

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

Zoe will be near Chuck’s location, having heard some noise.

Helicopters traveled in the direction of the mansion, landing around the clearing. Anyone returning to the estate will run into Margot.

Celestial Bonds

Repost for consistency.

Mage: Gabriel of Marvik

_{Art by Numyart}

Tall and muscular, Gabriel has the tell-tale physique of many from the lower class in Grenheim, though far more well-built due to his proficiency with the bow. His back muscles in particular are extremely defined from lifelong use of a hunting bow and far stronger than one would expect from constant training to remain the ranged, apex predator in his neck of the woods. Many jagged scars marred his tanned skin; most were from close encounters with wildlife, as part of his occupation. His dark hair is coarse and unruly, kept long and would often cover his eyes if he let it down. Most of time, he kept it tied back with a string. Working often with a bow has produced deft but calloused fingers, which also bear many scars from formative years training with a butcher knife.

There isn’t much to say about his usual clothing. As a simple villager, he only owns a few sets of clothes to his name, most are simple linen tunics and pants. One fixed feature of his appearance is a somewhat tattered fur coat, mostly due to the harsh winters of his village. Leather boots and gloves were also frequent accessories, even when he isn’t out in the woods. Around his waist is a well worn leather belt, from which hangs his hunting knife and a small pouch for essentials.

A hunter’s son, Gabriel grew up in an isolated cottage with his father. One of his earlier memories was of the hunt: the smell of spilled blood and deer musk, his father’s warm laughter and the weight of the kill on his shoulders as they carried it back. Even in his younger years, Gabriel was withdrawn. He had always preferred to explore the woods around him rather than seeking companions.

Then Arden came into his life. The boy was a scion of a noble family, and yet somehow he managed to befriend the stoic Gabe. On the winter of his 16th year, his father passed away, his body finally succumbed to an old sickness. Gabriel did not mourn the man for long; that winter had been long and harsh, and he had to work to keep himself fed. Naturally, he inherited his father’s cottage and his occupation. For years, he lived the hermit life; only travelling to the nearby village to restock on necessary supplies and barter his catch with the steady visits from Arden. Aside from that, most of his days were spent in the woods, setting up traps and tracking down new quarry.

Together, they maintained a tentative routine: Arden would come over for dinner several times a week, sharing whatever meagre meals Gabriel had cooked up while bringing over delicacies to share with the hunter. After an act of defiance that cost Arden his own position, Gabriel took him in, letting the scion stay with him until the day they were finally located for the bonding ritual.

Gabriel is best described as cold, standoffish and completely unsociable. He seemed entirely ruled by his logic, rarely expressing or acting on his emotions. With the exception of Arden, the hunter often prefers to spend his time doing his own things, rather than being around other people. He rarely speaks in the company of strangers too, and this attribute clearly affects his ability to work in a group. Because of his preference for solitude and autonomy, he also dislikes being dependent on someone or following orders, though he does make an attempt to keep things cordial. It doesn’t mean the same thing as engaging in conversations, though.

Very very very platonic friendship. He cares deeply for Arden, despite what he shows (or doesn't).

Arden Harwell

Located on the front of his left hip. Glows faintly with a soft hue of mixed blues, purples, and greens.

A hunter by trade, Gabriel wields a recurve bow. He quite used to stalking and firing while crouching down in tall bushes, so when he engages enemies, expect him to employ a similar technique: he will attempt to keep his distance and take them by surprise.

Recurve bows, arrows and bow-related equipment.
Hunting knife.

He’s a commoner by birth. So, he’s quite poor, doesn’t know how to read and has never actually seen a horse close up. His combat experience is restricted to just wildlife; though there was scuffles with humans before. Regardless, Gabriel isn't exactly a seasoned fighter.

Devotion.

All of Gabriel’s spells are focused around empowering and drawing strength from his partner. Therefore, they can only affect Arden as of the moment.

Blood In The Water
Throwing Arden into a murderous rage, greatly increasing his strength, speed and stamina. Yet, this spell is also draining on both him and Arden, though at different time interval. For Gabriel, the exhaustion worsens as the spell is maintained (lasting as long 20-30 minutes at a stretch, though that would be pushing Gabe's limits very hard), while for Arden, it hits him all at once when he gets out of beast form.

What's Mine Is Yours
Transferring all of Arden’s current wounds onto him. When this spell is used, Gabriel gains a minor healing factor, allowing him to recover at a glacial pace. Yes, he can kill himself with this ability.

Through Thick And Thin
The closer Gabriel is to his mage, the stronger he is, surpassing even the feats of lifelong, competitive athletes, though it doesn't extend into anything egregiously "superhuman" (lifting around 1000 lbs. at peak spell effect and running at roughly 20-30 miles per hour). Basically, his physical prowess is enhanced by Arden's presence.

…
People.
His job.
Shoot me down. /// Broken bones.
Nope.

---

Knight: Arden Harwell

_{Art by Pearlpencil}

Average in height and slim of frame, Arden's silhouette looks no different from the average citizen of Grenheim, though he bears the relatively smooth fingers and bright face of the financially wealthy in stark contrast to much of the exhausted working population. His father's lineage grants him pale blonde hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes while his mother's more exotic blood shapes his eyes almond and smooths away his father's strong jaw, leaving Arden's face with a delicate combination of narrow chin, rosy lips, and the soft curves of an ingénue.

Blessed with attractive facial features usually meant for the other sex and a slender build, Arden doesn't mind dolling himself up often in tailored robes and priceless jewelry to attend his family's banquets and parties, enjoying in brief durations the ability to catch almost all the eyes in a room. When with Gabe, however, the young noble prefers a simple white tunic and dark, sturdy trousers, wanting to forage into the depths of the woods alongside his steadfast childhood friend.




The fourth son of a merchant family recently come into aristocracy through marriage to a minor noble house of Grenheim, Arden was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a relative freedom of expression compared to his older brothers. He lived carefree and curious for much of his childhood until he encountered the 12-year-old Gabriel waiting quietly at the servants' entrance to the Harwell estate. Ever careless and questioning, Arden had approached as Gabriel's father gave the mansion's assistant chef the first pick of freshly butchered game. In awe at the quantity of red, bleeding meat on display, the boy had cried out, drawing all the attention he needed.

The old hunter, not wishing to draw any noble's ire, had urged his taciturn son to play with Arden while he discussed purchases and selections with the head chef.

The two have remained friends since, with Arden waiting weekly at the servants' entrance to pester Gabe for yet more tales of dramatic hunts and crafty solutions to even craftier wildlife. In time, Arden was allowed to visit Gabe's cottage deep in the forest as long as he had servant accompaniment. By the time the teenager was 14, he had been given reluctant freedom to venture forth alone as long as he returned soon after sundown. The two had established a minor ritual at this point where food would always be ready--one way or another--when Arden visited. Either Arden brought with him a basket of the chef's finest to share with Gabe or Gabe had the day's kill prepared and cooked for his friend. They spent hours lounging with one another on free days or Arden would keep Gabe company as he fletched arrows and sharpened knives for his father.

The freedom wouldn't last, however, as his family's tenuous status as aristocracy remained a subject of scorn and rejection in the upper circles whose money derived from old blood. The Harwell family was considered upstarts at best and peasants playing at status at worst. To rectify the increasing disdain, Giles Harwell--the feared head of the family--looked for marriages of convenience to further cement the family name in the annals of the luxurious. Arden was no exception to his father's ambitions and soon he, too, found himself fending off arranged meetings and supervised dates with the girls of more reputable families.

Conniving even in his old age, Giles had arranged meetings and parties for the families of nobles who retained their status, but had lost much of their money, hinting at the Harwell coffers during negotiations for marriages. Strains of desperation snaked across both parties and there was no shortage of suitable families to marry into.

In the frenzy of socially mandatory events and parties, Arden found few moments that year to visit Gabe, though even those infrequent visits revealed that Gabe's father was unwell. Before a brutal winter struck Grenheim, he managed to bring the family of two a large basket of preserved meats and medicines, along with an unwitting mule carting along firewood, oil lamps, warm clothes. and thick fur blanketing, urging Gabe to stay safe and wishing his father well.

Blizzards raged on and off throughout the cold months and when spring began thawing the ice-packed ground, Gabe's father died in his sleep. In the aftermath of the loss, Arden was there, the breakwater that Gabe's grief needed to finally subside, until the orphaned hunter could find his way once more.

From one disaster to another, Arden was soon disowned for the offense of rejecting marriage from a powerful noble family--an offer his father had spent half a year bringing to fruition. His reasoning was simply that he felt nothing for the girl, lovely as she was. When screams and slaps could not convince him, he was cast out of the family to save face and the outcast ex-aristocrat found himself turning to the only person he hoped would let him stay. And Gabe did not refuse.

For the past two years Arden has lived with Gabe, in something of a dreamlike paradise for the now-peasant, who misses the sweets of the mansion but finds far more comfort in the steady, unwavering loyalty of his friend. They've found each other through thick and thin and both have sacrificed more than his fair share for the other, coexisting in perfect harmony. The day the emperor's missive found them, Arden had given Gabe the choice, knowing as they both did the state of the country and the fragile peace they had enjoyed until then. If they wanted something better and the emperor's mages believed they had the power to change the course of the world's state, then they would fight for it.


Arden is both insecure and strong-willed, the sort who will put his genuine efforts into something he wants to accomplish, but feels that he's never good enough to achieve it. Regardless, he'll keep at it, whether it's trying to string a bow and failing repeatedly or helping Gabe tend to the small garden behind the cottage without killing the plants. He doesn't realize it, but practice does make perfect and for all his lack of belief in himself Arden is improving in everything he insists on doing. Conversely, he has the utmost faith in Gabe, come hell or high water. Should an omnipotent deity declare that Gabe is untrustworthy, Arden would laugh in its face. To him, even a lie from Gabe is a truth to be believed until the hunter reveals otherwise.

With Gabe, Arden is a doting friend, always careful to attend to every chore and need Gabe requires after a hard day of hunting and tracking. By now the two have recognized the physical tells of each other so well that Gabe need only raise his head to ask for water and he would find a cup already by his side. Once he had settled into the less extravagant life of a hunter, Arden became accustomed to bringing the butchered meats to market, dauntless in the face of jeers and laughter whenever any old acquaintances recognized him. He's happy where he is and wouldn't trade Gabe for the world.

In what Arden considers his previous life as an aristocrat, he was superficially amicable and always able to tack himself onto a conversation without much semblance of intrusion. Capable of keeping at least a straight face even in the face of direct mockery, Arden saves his emotional outbursts and rants for visits with Gabe where he would regale the quiet hunter with all the most frustrating people and events while eating as much cake as his stomach would allow in an effort to improve his mood. His social skills haven't deteriorated--rather, with the new circumstances of his demoted status, he has had to sharpen them all the more while rumors spread and laughter follows.


Devotion.

Arden would die for Gabe, without hesitation. More importantly, he would live for Gabe as well, seeking actions in his friend's best interests as his eternal gratitude for the way Gabe neither judged nor patronized him the day he lost his social status. Arden's loyalty is ferocious and despite his normal lack of combat abilities he will always step in to defend the curt Gabe when words fail and fists fly.


Gabriel of Marvik (Gabe)

Located on the front of his left hip. Glows faintly with a soft hue of mixed blues, purples, and greens.

Normally, Arden has no combat prowess and falters at fighting even woodland creatures, preferring household chores and gardening to violence for the sake of some greater purpose. He's tenacious when he does get going, but hardly skilled.

As a knight, Arden turns into the dangerous beasts of the forests he so often wishes to hunt, with a supernatural twist of excessive speed and strength. Any animal form he takes is much larger and deadlier than their normal counterparts, though he has the ability to shift into smaller, weaker animals for reconnaissance. The ability comes with the natural (and enhanced) instincts and talents his chosen animal form possesses, but inflicts a more feral and primitive influence on Arden's mind. He retains human consciousness, but will find animalistic tendencies and instincts incredibly hard to resist, if not entirely impossible. When pushed too far and for too long, the only thing that will keep his mind from disappearing entirely is the magic of his Gear. At the critical point, he will recognize only Gabe and attack anyone else indiscriminately.


Hunting knives and a shortbow that he is proficient in, though he misses far more often than he likes. He still needs Gabe's help to fletch arrows and often loses his quiver.


In combat: ranged attacks, sounds/smells/lights intended to overwhelm his enhanced animal senses. As a person: anything that concerns Gabe and anyone who can throw a decent punch.




Gleipnir


Collar

Arden manifests a thin, nondescript band of silver around his neck as wide as a human finger.


The Gear grants Arden the ability to shift animal forms at will (though he needs to remain still for 5-10 seconds to fully shift and the transformations are easily interrupted should he move or be struck) and to a larger-than-normal size, though he can only shift into the forms of creatures he has already seen. Certain spells terrifyingly enhances Arden's ability at the cost of feral instinct consuming his mind, but the collar also allows Gabe to keep perfect control over his knight, even at the worst of moments.




Gabe, rainy days, cakes, cozy dinners by the fire, soft music, and learning new things.


Social rules, bitter foods, the cold, people who talk over him, business-related functions, and especially arranged marriages.


Cleaning, knitting, gardening, learning how to hunt, and pampering Gabe.


In Sickness and In Health: /KXLD. & Rythmatical - "One Day (ft. Kim Chi Sun)"
'Til Death Do Us Part: Aurora - "Running With The Wolves"

• Nice handwriting; awful poetry.
• Eats a lot more than his size lets on.
• Can hold his alcohol.
• Good at following recipes, but somehow always messes up the final dish. Sticks to simple dishes.
• Has feelings for Gabe that he will take to his grave.

Celestial Bonds

@VarionusNW Putting mine and Red's CS here to slap you into working on the OOC and to bump the thread.

Mage: Gabriel of Marvik

_{Art by Numyart}

Tall and wiry, Gabriel has the tell-tale physique of many from the lower class in Grenheim, though a bit more well-built due to his proficiency with the bow. Many jagged scars marred his tanned skin; most were from close encounters with wildlife, as part of his occupation. His dark hair is coarse and unruly, kept long and would often cover his eyes if he let it down. Most of time, he kept it tied back with a string. Working often with a bow has produced deft but calloused fingers, which also bear many scars from formative years training with a butcher knife.

There isn’t much to say about his usual clothing. As a simple villager, he only owns a few sets of clothes to his name, most are simple linen tunics and pants. One fixed feature of his appearance is a somewhat tattered fur coat, mostly due to the harsh winters of his village. Leather boots and gloves were also frequent accessories, even when he isn’t out in the woods. Around his waist is a well worn leather belt, from which hangs his hunting knife and a small pouch for essentials.

A hunter’s son, Gabriel grew up in an isolated cottage with his father. One of his earlier memories was of the hunt: the smell of spilled blood and deer musk, his father’s warm laughter and the weight of the kill on his shoulders as they carried it back. Even in his younger years, Gabriel was withdrawn. He had always preferred to explore the woods around him rather than seeking companions.

Then Arden came into his life. The boy was a scion of a noble family, and yet somehow he managed to befriend the stoic Gabe. On the winter of his 16th year, his father passed away, his body finally succumbed to an old sickness. Gabriel did not mourn the man for long; that winter had been long and harsh, and he had to work to keep himself fed. Naturally, he inherited his father’s cottage and his occupation. For years, he lived the hermit life; only travelling to the nearby village to restock on necessary supplies and barter his catch with the steady visits from Arden. Aside from that, most of his days were spent in the woods, setting up traps and tracking down new quarry.

Together, they maintained a tentative routine: Arden would come over for dinner several times a week, sharing whatever meagre meals Gabriel had cooked up while bringing over delicacies to share with the hunter. After an act of defiance that cost Arden his own position, Gabriel took him in, letting the scion stay with him until the day they were finally located for the bonding ritual.

Gabriel is best described as cold, standoffish and completely unsociable. He seemed entirely ruled by his logic, rarely expressing or acting on his emotions. With the exception of Arden, the hunter often prefers to spend his time doing his own things, rather than being around other people. He rarely speaks in the company of strangers too, and this attribute clearly affects his ability to work in a group. Because of his preference for solitude and autonomy, he also dislikes being dependent on someone or following orders, though he does make an attempt to keep things cordial. It doesn’t mean the same thing as engaging in conversations, though.

Very very very platonic friendship. He cares deeply for Arden, despite what he shows (or doesn't).

Arden Harwell

A hunter by trade, Gabriel wields a recurve bow. He quite used to stalking and firing while crouching down in tall bushes, so when he engages enemies, expect him to employ a similar technique: he will attempt to keep his distance and take them by surprise.

Recurve bows, arrows and bow-related equipment.
Hunting knife.

He’s a commoner by birth. So, he’s quite poor, doesn’t know how to read and has never actually seen a horse close up. His combat experience is restricted to just wildlife; though there was scuffles with humans before. Regardless, Gabriel isn't exactly a seasoned fighter.

Devotion.

All of Gabriel’s spells are focused around empowering and drawing strength from his partner. Therefore, they can only affect Arden as of the moment.

Blood In The Water
Throwing Arden into a murderous rage, greatly increasing his strength, speed and stamina. Yet, this spell is also draining on both him and Arden, though at different time interval. For Gabriel, the exhaustion worsens as the spell is maintained (lasting as long 20-30 minutes at a stretch, though that would be pushing Gabe's limits very hard), while for Arden, it hits him all at once when he gets out of beast form.

What's Mine Is Yours
Transferring all of Arden’s current wounds onto him. When this spell is used, Gabriel gains a minor healing factor, allowing him to recover at a glacial pace. Yes, he can kill himself with this ability.

Through Thick And Thin
The closer Gabriel is to his mage, the stronger he is, surpassing even the feats of lifelong, competitive athletes, though it doesn't extend into anything egregiously "superhuman" (lifting around 1000 lbs. at peak spell effect and running at roughly 20-30 miles per hour). Basically, his physical prowess is enhanced by Arden's presence.

…
People.
His job.
Shoot me down. /// Broken bones.
Nope.

---

Knight: Arden Harwell

_{Art by Pearlpencil}

Average in height and slim of frame, Arden's silhouette looks no different from the average citizen of Grenheim, though he bears the relatively smooth fingers and bright face of the financially wealthy in stark contrast to much of the exhausted working population. His father's lineage grants him pale blonde hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes while his mother's more exotic blood shapes his eyes almond and smooths away his father's strong jaw, leaving Arden's face with a delicate combination of narrow chin, rosy lips, and the soft curves of an ingénue.

Blessed with attractive facial features usually meant for the other sex and a slender build, Arden doesn't mind dolling himself up often in tailored robes and priceless jewelry to attend his family's banquets and parties, enjoying in brief durations the ability to catch almost all the eyes in a room. When with Gabe, however, the young noble prefers a simple white tunic and dark, sturdy trousers, wanting to forage into the depths of the woods alongside his steadfast childhood friend.




The fourth son of a merchant family recently come into aristocracy through marriage to a minor noble house of Grenheim, Arden was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a relative freedom of expression compared to his older brothers. He lived carefree and curious for much of his childhood until he encountered the 12-year-old Gabriel waiting quietly at the servants' entrance to the Harwell estate. Ever careless and questioning, Arden had approached as Gabriel's father gave the mansion's assistant chef the first pick of freshly butchered game. In awe at the quantity of red, bleeding meat on display, the boy had cried out, drawing all the attention he needed.

The old hunter, not wishing to draw any noble's ire, had urged his taciturn son to play with Arden while he discussed purchases and selections with the head chef.

The two have remained friends since, with Arden waiting weekly at the servants' entrance to pester Gabe for yet more tales of dramatic hunts and crafty solutions to even craftier wildlife. In time, Arden was allowed to visit Gabe's cottage deep in the forest as long as he had servant accompaniment. By the time the teenager was 14, he had been given reluctant freedom to venture forth alone as long as he returned soon after sundown. The two had established a minor ritual at this point where food would always be ready--one way or another--when Arden visited. Either Arden brought with him a basket of the chef's finest to share with Gabe or Gabe had the day's kill prepared and cooked for his friend. They spent hours lounging with one another on free days or Arden would keep Gabe company as he fletched arrows and sharpened knives for his father.

The freedom wouldn't last, however, as his family's tenuous status as aristocracy remained a subject of scorn and rejection in the upper circles whose money derived from old blood. The Harwell family was considered upstarts at best and peasants playing at status at worst. To rectify the increasing disdain, Giles Harwell--the feared head of the family--looked for marriages of convenience to further cement the family name in the annals of the luxurious. Arden was no exception to his father's ambitions and soon he, too, found himself fending off arranged meetings and supervised dates with the girls of more reputable families.

Conniving even in his old age, Giles had arranged meetings and parties for the families of nobles who retained their status, but had lost much of their money, hinting at the Harwell coffers during negotiations for marriages. Strains of desperation snaked across both parties and there was no shortage of suitable families to marry into.

In the frenzy of socially mandatory events and parties, Arden found few moments that year to visit Gabe, though even those infrequent visits revealed that Gabe's father was unwell. Before a brutal winter struck Grenheim, he managed to bring the family of two a large basket of preserved meats and medicines, along with an unwitting mule carting along firewood, oil lamps, warm clothes. and thick fur blanketing, urging Gabe to stay safe and wishing his father well.

Blizzards raged on and off throughout the cold months and when spring began thawing the ice-packed ground, Gabe's father died in his sleep. In the aftermath of the loss, Arden was there, the breakwater that Gabe's grief needed to finally subside, until the orphaned hunter could find his way once more.

From one disaster to another, Arden was soon disowned for the offense of rejecting marriage from a powerful noble family--an offer his father had spent half a year bringing to fruition. His reasoning was simply that he felt nothing for the girl, lovely as she was. When screams and slaps could not convince him, he was cast out of the family to save face and the outcast ex-aristocrat found himself turning to the only person he hoped would let him stay. And Gabe did not refuse.

For the past two years Arden has lived with Gabe, in something of a dreamlike paradise for the now-peasant, who misses the sweets of the mansion but finds far more comfort in the steady, unwavering loyalty of his friend. They've found each other through thick and thin and both have sacrificed more than his fair share for the other, coexisting in perfect harmony. The day the emperor's missive found them, Arden had given Gabe the choice, knowing as they both did the state of the country and the fragile peace they had enjoyed until then. If they wanted something better and the emperor's mages believed they had the power to change the course of the world's state, then they would fight for it.


Arden is both insecure and strong-willed, the sort who will put his genuine efforts into something he wants to accomplish, but feels that he's never good enough to achieve it. Regardless, he'll keep at it, whether it's trying to string a bow and failing repeatedly or helping Gabe tend to the small garden behind the cottage without killing the plants. He doesn't realize it, but practice does make perfect and for all his lack of belief in himself Arden is improving in everything he insists on doing. Conversely, he has the utmost faith in Gabe, come hell or high water. Should an omnipotent deity declare that Gabe is untrustworthy, Arden would laugh in its face. To him, even a lie from Gabe is a truth to be believed until the hunter reveals otherwise.

With Gabe, Arden is a doting friend, always careful to attend to every chore and need Gabe requires after a hard day of hunting and tracking. By now the two have recognized the physical tells of each other so well that Gabe need only raise his head to ask for water and he would find a cup already by his side. Once he had settled into the less extravagant life of a hunter, Arden became accustomed to bringing the butchered meats to market, dauntless in the face of jeers and laughter whenever any old acquaintances recognized him. He's happy where he is and wouldn't trade Gabe for the world.

In what Arden considers his previous life as an aristocrat, he was superficially amicable and always able to tack himself onto a conversation without much semblance of intrusion. Capable of keeping at least a straight face even in the face of direct mockery, Arden saves his emotional outbursts and rants for visits with Gabe where he would regale the quiet hunter with all the most frustrating people and events while eating as much cake as his stomach would allow in an effort to improve his mood. His social skills haven't deteriorated--rather, with the new circumstances of his demoted status, he has had to sharpen them all the more while rumors spread and laughter follows.


Devotion.

Arden would die for Gabe, without hesitation. More importantly, he would live for Gabe as well, seeking actions in his friend's best interests as his eternal gratitude for the way Gabe neither judged nor patronized him the day he lost his social status. Arden's loyalty is ferocious and despite his normal lack of combat abilities he will always step in to defend the curt Gabe when words fail and fists fly.


Gabriel of Marvik (Gabe)




Normally, Arden has no combat prowess and falters at fighting even woodland creatures, preferring household chores and gardening to violence for the sake of some greater purpose. He's tenacious when he does get going, but hardly skilled.

As a knight, Arden turns into the dangerous beasts of the forests he so often wishes to hunt, with a supernatural twist of excessive speed and strength. Any animal form he takes is much larger and deadlier than their normal counterparts, though he has the ability to shift into smaller, weaker animals for reconnaissance. The ability comes with the natural (and enhances) instincts and talents his chosen animal form possesses, but inflicts a more feral and primitive influence on Arden's mind. He retains human consciousness, but will find animalistic tendencies and instincts incredibly hard to resist, if not entirely impossible. When pushed too far and for too long, the only thing that will keep his mind from disappearing entirely is the magic of his Gear. At the critical point, he will recognize only Gabe and attack anyone else indiscriminately.


Hunting knives and a shortbow that he is proficient in, though he misses far more often than he likes. He still needs Gabe's help to fletch arrows and often loses his quiver.


In combat: ranged attacks, sounds/smells/lights intended to overwhelm his enhanced animal senses. As a person: anything that concerns Gabe and anyone who can throw a decent punch.




Gleipnir


Collar

Arden manifests a thin, nondescript band of silver around his neck as wide as a human finger.


The Gear grants Arden the ability to shift animal forms at will (though he needs to remain still for 5-10 seconds to fully shift and the transformations are easily interrupted should he move or be struck) and to a larger-than-normal size, though he can only shift into the forms of creatures he has already seen. Certain spells terrifyingly enhances Arden's ability at the cost of feral instinct consuming his mind, but the collar also allows Gabe to keep perfect control over his knight, even at the worst of moments.





Gabe, rainy days, cakes, cozy dinners by the fire, soft music, and learning new things.


Social rules, bitter foods, the cold, people who talk over him, business-related functions, and especially arranged marriages.


Cleaning, knitting, gardening, learning how to hunt, and pampering Gabe.


In Sickness and In Health: /KXLD. & Rythmatical - "One Day (ft. Kim Chi Sun)"
'Til Death Do Us Part: Starset - "Satellite"

• Nice handwriting; awful poetry.
• Eats a lot more than his size lets on.
• Can hold his alcohol.
• Good at following recipes, but somehow always messes up the final dish. Sticks to simple dishes.
• Has feelings for Gabe that he will take to his grave.

Pathfinder Tabletop - Carrion Crown

---

---

Friction

When the company had disbanded for the night and Iris had slipped away to enjoy a moment of silence, he found himself besieged by that same feeling of incongruity once more, every subconscious instinct of his picking up on the undeniable fact that he was not meant to be here, among a band of survivors and fighters to whom priceless artifacts had been entrusted. He was a whore, a long-accepted fact that he had made peace with. Supposedly.

The perfectly dimmed oil lamps on the wall were uniform in their brightness as he wandered the mansion's hallways, exploring absentmindedly to tire out the restless, uncomfortable energy that hung low o n his body. It was a habit of his profession, to be ready for the nightly activities no matter how long they lasted and his body had fallen into the rhythm of being prepared, especially after the weeks of travel with little time to care for more recreational pleasures. He could take care of it himself, and quickly, too, but the lingering discomfort of the situation propelled him to make several more rounds in the same hallway before he finally returned to the now empty sitting room and retrieved his pack, heading towards the guest rooms with silent footsteps--a practiced manner of walking to avoid rousing clients after they had fallen asleep.

His guest room was simple, not that he had expected decadence out of the professor, but the easy elegance of the carved bed frame and simple, flowery wall decor harkened back to a quaint sort of innocence. One Iris could hardly remember.

As if bored of his nostalgia, his body pressed on with its urges and he relented, stripping down to bare skin and soft-scented underclothes that he also discarded.

The method of release was easy and within minutes Iris had taken care of the most pressing desires and cleaned up, lying on his stomach and stretched out on the bed like a glorified housecat. He hadn't realized, in his urgency to calm himself, that he had left the door to his room slightly ajar, nor did he notice the knight who was now turning red on the other side.

The knight in question cleared his throat then, clearly flustered and confused by the unexpected turns of events. Just recently returned from his rounds, Ganth did not expect a stranger to be in his room, nor was he ready for the...unsavoury activity that the stranger was apparently partaking in. On his bed, no less.

"I think you're in the wrong room." -He began, keeping his tone civil and body language lax.

Iris started, sitting up quickly to look at the knight who had appeared. "...Am I?" he answered after a moment's worth of shock, "I apologize. The estate's quite foreign to me and I was distracted." The courtesan slid off the bed quickly, scooping his clothes up from the ground and watching Ganth with an almost predatory look. "Would you like me to make it up to you?"

"It's fine. Completely understandable." -Ganth remained cordial. If he noticed the look on the courtesan's face, he did not show it. -"Do you need help finding your room?"

"Maybe I could just stay in yours?" Half-lidded eyes and a ready form stalked closer, until Iris was inches away from Ganth. "Would you like any service? It'll be on the house this time," he joked, leaning in to smell the scent of armor polish and sweat that hung around Ganth.

"I don't wish to bother you. My schedule can be...atypical at times. Sharing a room with me might not be very convenient." -The inquisitor raised an eyebrow at the odd offer, but he already had an inkling of what the courtesan was suggesting. And he was hardly interested. The day was long, and the night would be even longer, if they wasted time on anything but sleep. Ganth was weary from his long trip. He just wanted to rest his eyes now -"Do you prefer this room? I can leave, if you want. Iris, was it?"

”Surely you have some needs to be taken care of? Or is it that you’re not interested in men?”

"I think I need to sleep, Iris."

It fascinated him to a certain degree how the seemingly virile knight had absolutely no interest. There was a difference between the men who feigned chastity and the ones who truly didn’t care for carnal needs and while Iris suspected there was more to the veneer than outright disinterest, he could at least tell that Ganth would not be budged. At least not now.

”Then maybe you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me?” he offered regardless, curious how far it would go as he pressed a warm leg against the knight’s bright armor.

"Don't you prefer the bed to yourself?"

”I love having company.” Iris leaned in, kissing the firm jawline lightly, the overture blatant now.

"I was told I can be a bore, sometimes." -Ganth stiffened at the intimate contact, but he did not draw back nor flinch away -"If you wish for company, perhaps consider asking someone else."

There was a reaction after all and Iris wanted to chase it down.

“No one’s too boring for me,” he replied, trailing touches and kisses further along the jawline until he tastes the knight’s lips.

That made Ganth took a few steps back though, seperating himself from the courtesan.

"Let's not do that." -A faint rosy hue tainted his cheeks, but he kept his composure.

“I can make you feel even better, you know?” Iris followed the movement, tracing fingers along the curve of Ganth’s ear. ”Won’t you let me?”

"Let's not do that." -The inquisitor simply repeated the words, gaze unwavering.

“I’m a little sad, Sir Inquisitor. You’re rebuffing me while pink in the cheeks. What am I to make of that?“ But the courtesan backed away, still stark naked and ready, though entirely rejected. ”Well, I’ll at least keep you company throughout the night, if you don’t mind. I recall you offered to share the room.” A lazy saunter took the slim body back to the bed where Iris crawled back on with slow, deliberate movements, reclining on the pillows with a defeated look.

"I offered to leave the room to you, Iris." -Ganth let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The sweet scent of whatever perfume the courtesan was using lingered somehow, and he had to move, placing his heavy mace and shield down on a nearby table. With that done, he reached up to unfasten the claps of his gauntlets, longing to rid himself of their rough and oppressive heat.

"And I'm offering to share. Don't worry, I'll leave you be if you're this insistent, but I always love company." He swapped the positions of his feet, so that one ankle rested above the other, and examined a thin band of silver that sparkled around his right ankle, pretending to be distracted.

Ganth had shared a bed many times before, in both crowded barracks and stuffy inns, so he figured he could comply with Iris' strange request, if it meant the courtesan would leave him alone afterward. So against his better judgement, he shrugged.

"So be it."

His armor came off easily enough, deft hands worked through the clasps and buckles with practiced efficiency. He arranged them all on the desk, within a few steps of the bed. Finally, he slipped off his sweat-soaked undershirt and slipped into a new one, before turning around, glancing at the bed and its sole occupant.

"Perhaps you should consider putting your clothes on. It can get quite chilly at night."

”No need. I’ll have you to keep me warm, won’t I?” The mischief in Iris’s eyes was unmistakable, but he made no motions to suggest he would attempt anything.

"I would prefer that you...don't touch me while I sleep."

“Hmm, I will agree to avoid any explicit gestures on the condition that you let me sleep on you.” A sweet smile followed the offer and Iris patted the space beside him slowly.

"Perhaps I should take the floor then."

”Don’t be so mean, Sir Inquisitor. I’m just a little starved for a warm body near me. You have my word your virginity is safe.”

"Just 'near' would be enough then? No touching?" -Ganth crossed his arms, clearly amused by the implications in Iris' words.

”I’d like to lay on you, but if that’s so awful then near is enough.”

"Very well." -Ganth rolled his shoulders, before heading over to the bed and flopping down unceremoniously. He kept a respectful distance with his bedfellow though, and one of his arm hung off the edge of the mattress as a result.

At the sight of the gangly giant lying lopsided on the bed, Iris laughed, sitting up and stepping lightly away from the bed, clothes already back in hand. He deposited the travel clothes onto a chair in the corner and pulled from his pack a revealing outfit of soft, almost transparent silks that wrapped around him like a light dress, held in place only by ornate clasps around the hips, neck, and limbs. He spun, almost weightless in the movement as he examined the clothes. "It's been too long since I could wear this," he explained, raising a leg above his head and twirling briefly, "As thanks for indulging me a bit, I'll put on a bit of a show for you until you fall asleep."

Colorful motes of light bloomed around the courtesan and what sounded like a soft, melodic hum permeated the room. To the slow rhythm of the music he created, Iris danced, legs and arms moving in perfect sync with each other. Where a slight swell of the music demanded more complex steps, there were counterbalancing motions of the arms to hold him steady, every movement fluid and languid and part of the sultry dance that had enticed so many customers.

Ganth watched, if only for a few short moments before the day finally caught up to him. The inquisitor fell asleep quietly, breaths soft and even.

Once the knight had fallen fast asleep Iris dismissed the illusions and wandered to the bedside, watching the rise and fall of the broad chest. No one here wanted his company in the way he knew best, it would seem, and for that he felt even more out of place. He couldn't contribute anything to delivering a case of precious books nor could he find solace in the one activity that he had mastered for the sake of his postponed profession. He didn't belong. The message was as clear as day. So he sighed and returned to his pack, stowing away the entertainer's clothes and dressing once more in his traveler's garb. If he left now, no one would be the wiser, he imagined. The Professor's daughter had requested he stay for the wake and the reading of the will, and the respected scholar's testament had entrusted the group with a surprisingly simple job. He told himself it would be more beneficial to the Professor's will if he were to get out of the way now.

The pack rustled loudly as he hefted it over a shoulder, its contents jangling and clattering in the pin-drop silence of the estate.

A light sleeper, Ganth stirred awake at the unexpected noises, blinking blearily as he immediately looked for its source. It was the courtesan. He was standing with a bag over his shoulder, looking ready to leave.

"Changed your mind, Iris?" -The inquisitor straightened up -"I can escort you back to your room."

"No need," a softer voice answered him, bereft of the wily tones that had infected the conversation before, "Get some rest, Sir Inquisitor. You look quite tired."

"I insist." -Once more, Ganth refused to back down. He quickly stood up and righted his loose shirt, then walking over to retrieve his mace from its resting place -"It's late. There might be unsavoury character about."

Iris laughed again, the sound a relief to him when his humor seemed ready to simmer out for the day. "Go back to bed, Inquisitor. The only unsavory character about at this time of night is me. If you escort me, I might take advantage of you again."

"I believe I can defend myself, Iris."

"I don't doubt it. But I'm...not going back to my room, so you should go back to sleep. My apologies for waking you--and you look so tired, too." He shifted the pack on his shoulder and offered Ganth a rueful smile. "Thanks for humoring me earlier."

"Where are you going then?" -Ganth paused, puzzled -"Someone else's room?"

Another chuckle and Iris settled his shoulder against the door's frame. "Full of jokes tonight, Inquisitor," he commented, free hand lacing up the neck of his tunic, "I'm leaving. Going back to where I belong."

"You are leaving?" -It dawned on him. Of course, the courtesan seek to abandon his mission. Understandable, if not a little bit disappointing. The fear of death, after all, was shared by many -"If I may, why?"

"...I'm a whore, Sir Inquisitor. Surely you can spot the odd one out in this merry band of travelers."

Ganth was quiet for a few moments, as if considering what Iris just said. It was true, from what he had seen so far. The man had introduced himself as a courtesan. A consort. Not a fighter. Was he concerned about his own survival? Ganth could tell Iris was not a man prone to combat. Yet, his steps were too practiced, too controlled; his feline grace reminded Ganth of a predator, and not only in the visceral sense of the word. Then again, who was he to say?

"Is it fear?" -Ganth finally asked, keeping his tone even and light -"Do you think there's too much risk involved?"

"Not any more risk than servicing the absurdly wealthy who could kill you for any perceived offense and at most perhaps your favorite client would mourn your passing. But no. Not the risk. I simply do not...belong." Iris turned to leave, hoping that would be the end of the conversation, "The Professor is human. I'm sure even he makes mistakes."

"That's quite...selfish, if you ask me." -Ganth half-smiled, before he caught himself -"But you didn't. I apologize."

Still, he meant what he said. Last requests were held sacred for those within his order, so he did feel strongly about Iris forfeiting his duties. There didn't seem like anything he could do though, aside from upholding the professor's last will in Iris' stead. And he would do just that.

"At least allow me to escort you to the gate."

"I'll hear what you have to say. But you don't need to follow me out." The smaller of the two Aasimars stood outside the door to Ganth's room now, relenting one more time because something held him back despite his resolution to go.

"The professor trusted you with his request. But you are walking away, because you don't trust yourself." -Ganth leveled a gaze at Iris -"Pardon my rudeness, friend, but it is selfish. Promises to the departed should always be upheld, lest you shame yourself when it is your turn for an audience with our Pale Lady."

"What if it benefits the professor's will more that someone like me bows out gracefully?" the courtesan challenged, the blood rising to his cheeks at the reprimand.

"You don't know that. None of us do."

"I...know my place. Can you really tell me it's here?"

"It is for you to decide." -Ganth shook his head -"Though the professor certainly believed that."

"If I fail a dead man, what can I say to redeem myself?" Iris asked, though the question was rhetorical. He simply feared the unknown and wanted to fall back on more familiar tidings. "...This entire day I've felt out of place here among the professor's steadfast companions and seasoned veterans. And now I can't even seduce a knight. It all feels wrong. Like the world is telling me to be off already." He sighed, the spark of indignation fizzling out. "I don't truly want to leave."

"Then don't." -Ganth sighed, but his features softened -"And your charms are...intact, trust me. I'm just not the one you want."

"Mm, you're certainly dead in the water. But I find that fascinating." A moment while the glimmer of mischief returned to Iris's eyes and he was leaning forward again, once more invading Ganth's personal space. "I may want to stay a bit longer if you'll let me sleep on that nice, broad chest?"

"Has all that been for...this?" -Once more, Ganth fumbled, blinking incredulously at the courtesan.

"Hardly! I was quite serious about leaving, but I'm also quite serious about sleeping on you as well."

"And I was quite serious when I refused. We may share the bed, but you may not sleep on me."

"What's the harm? I like human contact, and I promise to play nice."

"It's not...decent. -The blush threatened to return full force now, prompting Ganth to relent, turning and walking back into the room. Iris didn't seem so dead set on leaving anymore, so he could be left alone to his own devices. Ganth no longer cared if he stayed in this room or not. As long as the courtesan wouldn't pounce him in the dead of night.

He was really tired.

Iris, for his part, laid down on the bed properly this time, turned to face the unamused knight who seemed ready to leap out and run at the first sign of movement. He laughed lightly.

"So wary. I'll sleep first, then, Sir Inquisitor. May you have pleasant dreams."

It wasn't long before the entertainer's features softened into sleep and in the dim glow of magicked lamps on the walls he looked almost cherubic, skin pale despite his travels and unblemished from years of careful care. It didn't seem possible that he was the raunchy bard from mere moments ago when he slept, though with his first kiss stolen and temptation lying not a foot away Ganth was hard pressed to believe the innocent visage of a sleeping Iris. Regardless, he did not hold any resentment toward the other Aasamir. If anything, the courtesan was just as lost as he was, simply just another pawn in the greater scheme of things. Against his better judgement, Ganth reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them. Because of its modest size though, Ganth found himself inching closer to the courtesan, close enough that he could feel the other Aasamir's soft breaths on the bare skin of his arm. The sensation was far more...intimate than anything he had experienced, but Ganth brushed it all aside and focused on evening out his breaths, hoping to reach unconsciousness as soon as possible.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝

---

She heard songs and screams in her ears, the high of her unholy cocktail of drugs coloring the world in blotches of technicolor. But Isabella dared say she could see clearer when the chemicals rushed through her veins, because without them she was lifeless. A husk of a human. Even breathing felt like it was too much effort. Every crash after the highs rendered her almost immobile in their severity and she often mustered only enough energy to inject herself with another home-brewed concoction, pushing the dosage of lethality every time. Thi had "repaired" her more times than she could count and by now the surgeon had modified her body to withstand the vicious abuse, because the high was all she lived for at times.

Her whips cut through wood and flesh alike as she swung her arms, letting Chuck quickstep her easily away from any guns leveled in their ever-changing direction. Martin had stood still for a second too long after the maid had blinded most of them, just a millisecond out of Chuck's grasp. His bullet-ridden body lay mixed in a pile of dismembered guards, but even with one of theirs lost the soldiers' numbers had dwindled now to a weary handful while the injured maid had retreated into the mansion, too out of the way to prioritize over the gunfire aimed at them.

The most troublesome of the lot was, surprisingly, the old butler whose every shot seemed perfectly timed to force Chuck's spatial powers and prevent Isabella from striking with her usual precision. It was as if the longer they fought the man, the more he could read in to their movements and the limitations of Chuck's power.

With Isabella on the ride, the spacewalker could no longer jump the large distances he would have alone and even with the lessened burden of Martin he was already getting caught on the timing of the jumps. The only thing saving them from a bullet through the heart was the fact that the old man could not yet guess which direction Chuck would jump in, though he had already figured out the rhythm of the teleports. It was imperative that he die first, and even in her feverish state the drugged Aberration could tell they would be the losers in the long run, especially now that Chuck was forced to jump before she could even lash out at the remaining batch of soldiers. Her whips went wide and sliced clean through the air, but already the short-range teleporter was jumping again, giving her no time to reposition or focus. Just as they shifted away from the position, the unmistakable sensation of cutting air whizzed by her ear. Closer. He was getting closer and Chuck was starting to tire from pushing himself to jump so frequently with another person on board.

The words that came out of her mouth surprised her as much as they did the boy she shoved away.

"Run!" A bullet caught her in the right shoulder but her other arm was already swinging, the whip faster than the soldiers could dodge. The smell of seared flesh flooded the field before the morning breeze carried it away. The last three soldiers of the 30-man team opened fire, the bullets puncturing flesh and shattering bone in equal payback to the last whip that cut across their torsos. In the backline stood the butler, already firing at the space around Isabella, preparing for the teleporter to dash in for the body.

There was a hoarse scream, but the boy was already gone, moving swiftly away from the scene of the carnage when he realized the steely eyed manservant seemed all too aware of what he had wanted to do. And that the man had deliberately allowed the soldiers to draw much of Isabella's ire, keeping himself at a safe distance until he had figured them out.

It was true what they said of monsters like the Director Zhang--she always gathered more of the same to her side.

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟘

---

The small town had taken the flooding in stride, much of the water destroying nothing that hadn't already been left to decay. At the sight of the distant wall of water, many had crowded into the only sturdy building in town, an obvious effort on the Director's part to inject more modern conveniences into the subnaturals' lives. Construction had been stopped partway, however, and unkempt scaffolding snaked around a quarter of the large motel where an entire wing had been left unfinished. With the haphazard way the equipment had been abandoned, the removal of the workers seemed more forced than willing.

And yet it was that building that easily withstood the weak edge of the tidal wave, minimal flooding seeping into the main courtyard and forming a large, shallow pool outside the motel's main entrance.

Here Andrew had gathered much of the remaining residents who were willing to leave their borderline hovels of homes. Some had powers that would hold against a bit of flooding, but most were glad to make use of the Director's gesture of--dare they say--affection. No one was under any illusions that the surge of water was natural and their de facto leader seemed more than ready for it, her ponytail as cleanly tied back as ever and her makeup impeccable.

She was the first to notice, long before Chuck stepped in range of the town's borders, that an entirely different sort of stranger was approaching, one that didn't belong in a way different from the students who had recently arrived. Her head turned to the direction of the boy's approach, realizing that only the motel's bright lights shone so effectively in the ramshackle village. He was approaching at an impossible pace and before she knew it the presence was at the door.

And it knocked politely at that.

Her raised hand meant no one was allowed to approach the door. The knocking grew more insistent. Then turned into fists pounding against the reinforced door. It would hold.

Before long, the presence had moved away again, covering dozens of meters instantaneously until it was out of her range.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe before noticing, once more, a group approaching. But these individual signatures she could recognize from the weeks at the estate and her occasional visit to the area's outskirts to pick up the bare minimum of necessary supplies from Aldrich. The man always urged her to take more--the mansion had enough to feed an army--but she had always refused out of the pride that wanted to believe she could lead the shambling town to some glorious revolution. It was a child's dream, but in the end she always refused the surplus, bringing back only what could sustain and urging the townsfolk to remain wary. To learn sustainable living. To fight against their reliance on the fickle kindness of their esteemed Director.

These kids shackled to their overlord's whims and allowances offended her on a personal level, for they had more strength than most of the island's inhabitants combined, yet bowed their heads to a woman whose only positive attribute was her insane drive.

"Mary...?" a man nearby called her name, placing a rough, weathered hand on the shoulder of her pleated blouse.

She blinked and patted his hand in assurance.

"The Institute's undomesticated dogs are coming. I don't know who the previous one was, but it wasn't any of ours. Not even remotely."

"Should we let the kids in? Even though they ain't welcome?" he asked, blue-gray eyes wide.

"Only as long as they need to be here. And only if they wise up and come here first. Otherwise we leave them out there to fend for themselves."

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OOC Notes

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

The hotel that the town’s inhabitants are currently waiting around in is in the center of town. The rest of the town is mostly empty apart from a few residents here and there.

Chuck is going to be flitting around the outskirts of town, checking buildings for some sort of communication.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

To be fair, I do plan to have more time skips now that we're well past the point of figuring out daily routines and general habits for the characters.

Reasonable time skips, of course, like 500 years into the future.

Children of The Abyss (Name still WIP)

Interested! I'd like to make a mermaid, who is always in mermaid form so requires a wheelchair for terrestrial motion. Does this sound acceptable?