Jewels

Draxis x Anstass [LeoricaAquila + Jewels]

@shylarah Yes, Anstass had a shaved head.

Draxis x Anstass [LeoricaAquila + Jewels]

@RedNightHunter Thank you :) Still a WIP thus far but I'm excited about the story

Draxis x Anstass [LeoricaAquila + Jewels]

Anstass was born to an unwed mother in the confines of a monastery in the kingdom of Lo-debar. Early in life, she was simply a matter to be handled discretely so the young woman and her family could be spared the disgrace that a reputation for lasciviousness would have brought upon them. Women monks within the temple served as midwives for the lass, and Anstass was kept to be reared by them.

Due to the debauchery and scandal surrounding her conception, Anstass was sort of stained for her teachers, as if they were teaching discipline to the woman who'd birthed her in her stead. She was corrected swiftly and harshly, and she was given no slack with which to misstep. She embraced the tutelage of her overseers, and became a devout and steadfast follower of the maiden goddess Pietas.

As Anstass developed as a monk, she began showing the abilities known as the Blessings of Pietas: the abilities to weave magic into songs, to harden her skin like stone, and to heal wounds and maladies. It was only when these abilities began manifesting in her that she was truly freed of her disgraceful origins in the eyes of the other monks. Her past was all but forgotten because she had achieved something that some monks never did: tangible proof of her acceptance by Pietas herself. She was sent southward to the desert to join the ranks of similarly gifted monks in the Southern Towers, home to the Choir of the Songweavers of Pietas, whom she'd be training to join.

Anstass was suddenly grouped with people similar to herself in temperament and ability. She spent long days in meditation and prayer, broken up with training sessions. Anstass was talented with the flute and with singing, and learned to sing incantations useful for healing and relieving pain as well as evading threats non-violently. The Southern Towers were known for their healers, so there were no shortages of the ill and wounded to tend to for practice. After two years in their training, she would assist newcomers in orientation and practice.

Anstass gained notoriety one day when she lead a class of new arrivals outside to practice manifesting stone skin to mitigate the effects of the heat upon them. The group was set upon by a Dracon in his dragon form who'd lost control of himself in his transformation. The Dracon were tribals who lived in the desert in the area, in their humanoid form bearing the wings and sometimes other features of a dragon, and shapeshifting fully into their forms at will.

Generally, they were peaceful, but this youngling had been cast out from his clan. A few fled in fear, but Anstass led those that remained in singing the Dracon out of his rage and panic. When his emotional equilibrium was restored, he shifted out of his bestial form and was grateful for their assistance. He was taken into their fold by their superiors until he was able to learn to control himself in a calm environment, and never failed to thank Anstass on sight. She became known as Anstass the Harmonious after that feat.

Anstass was inducted into the Choir, and made oaths of honesty, chastity, and pacifism. Not all monks took these oaths, but those within the Choir itself did, and were bound to them. To break the oaths made before Pietas was to lose the blessings one had been given by Her.

Lo-debar had a rival to the north, Bashar, and while the denizens of the monasteries were largely healers and pacifists, a war was going on between them. The King of Bashar lead his armies and battle mages into Lo-debar, sacking every town they passed on his march to the Southern Towers. The monks tried to stop the fighting, but in the end, the hexes of the battle mages merging with the counter magic from the monks had the ground heaving beneath them and strange things manifesting on the grounds. Most who fled were slaughtered, but Anstass was one who managed to escape. The Southern Towers were decimated, and even the land so poisoned by magical fallout that none could enter again. Nightmarish creatures spawned from the ether to inhabit the sands, and anyone entering was as likely to mutate as to be released by gravity and fall into the roiling black spiraling clouds perpetually above the desert in the area.

Once she'd passed through the northern border into Bashar, Anstass found passage in the cart of a farmer who had compassion for her plight. Anyone in the region would have noticed the obvious appearance of a monk, most notably the cleanly shaven head. He and his family provided her with a cloak and hood and as long as she needed to be lodged, though she didn't stay long. She survived by foraging, making the long trek to the eastern border of Bashar's lands and passing into nations she'd seen only by map.

It was only when she was out of the kingdom that she felt safe entering into towns and cities. She earned some small income by singing to entertain the patrons, paid more because she was able to inhibit violence through magic-infused lyrics than anything in some establishments. She was recognized as a monk, and the atrocities of Bashar against Lo-debar had traveled further and faster than she could have. It was not long until she was approached by the messenger of a Lord in the region, Lord Felwind, offering her political asylum if she would swear fealty to him.

Anstass had been born into a life of a religious renunciant. She had seen the garb and traveling accommodations of nobility in the past on those who sought healing for themselves or family members, but never had she imagined that such luxury and excess was so pervasive. There were men on his lands whose only labor was maintaining the aesthetics of the landscape, which was breathtaking for a desert-dweller anyway, with a multitude of flowers whose names she didn't know, even whose hues she'd never witnessed. His land seemed massive and abundant to her, excessive even, so she had imagined Lord Felwind would be a glutinous hedonist when she passed through his gates. He greeted her himself, and she found him to be neither, just that his norm was far more auspicious than her own.

She was given her own quarters separate from the manor itself, a little cottage that had formerly served as servant housing until the manor had been renovated for them. It was already furnished, though when it was discovered she had moved all of the furniture into a separate room and merely sat and took her meals in the floor, allowing only the cot within - albeit, in her opinion, of too luxurious a quality for herself alone - Lord Felwind had his servants remove the furniture so she could do with it as she pleased.

Anstass spent a couple of hours everyday visiting with the inhabitants of the manor, to tend to the wounded or check on their well-being. The rest of her days she spent in cleansing rituals meant to purge herself of her hatred for the king of Bashar, and her grief for those people she had come to love as family, and what she'd thought was going to be her home for the rest of her life. The monks tried to avoid desires and lusts, to be free from expectations, so that the turmoils in life could not shake them. She hadn't realized that she had such a leaning and such a desire for what she'd had, such an attachment to those things and people, until she knew how she felt when they were taken. Much of her meditation was spent sitting with feelings of a despair she'd never known, even weeping, sitting within her cottage with her legs folded and her eyes closed, or assuming the same pose within the orchard close to her accommodations.

There was a hollowness inside her where she felt something had died, something she hadn't noticed or known was within her until she experienced its absence. It felt as if her heart had turned to stone, her thoracic cavity cemented still like a tomb. She found herself plagued with nightmares when she slept, and suffering from intrusive memories and experiences when she was awake.

She did not make her plight known to Lord Felwind, conversing with him in the most cordial of tones, but he was exceptionally empathetic. He took it upon himself to have her gifted with one of his older hunting hounds, Seeker, who the Lord claimed would have been put down by his caretaker because he was no longer useful if she hadn't wanted to take it. The animal was large and tall, clearly an athletic beast, but with an enthusiast disposition toward all but his quarry. He was in good health and uninhibited, and she quickly realized that Seeker was a perfectly capable animal still. Having never had a pet in her life, she was uncertain of why Lord Felwind would mislead her about the animal's nature, but in the following nights, Seeker was steadfast by her side, and slept atop her blankets. If she awoke screaming, he was instantly upon her, as doting as one who'd known her for a lifetime, and no less perturbed by her own distress than she herself. It was then she truly understood the absolute benevolence of her host, and perhaps then that it could be said she first loved him in any capacity.

As Anstass began to find peace within again, she began spending more time among the people within the manor. Her greater wellness of spirit was marked by her ability to take greater interest in the goings-on of the people. She would traverse the lord's lands in the evenings, and on some such occasions, Lord Felwind would join her on such constitutionals. The maiden goddess Pietas was one goddess of a pantheon, not normally one of the focal points of most people's lives, and the southern towers had housed the most pious of the monks, so few beyond word of them knew much about their lives. Lord Felwind would inquire about life as a monk, never broaching the subject of horror to her, but allowing her to speak of those positive memories of her life. He was especially fascinated when it was revealed that she was blessed by Pietas, and particularly of the nature of musical magics upon healing and emotion, having not known of any magical inclinations she'd had and simply assuming she was a learned healer prior to the fact.

Lord Felwind began inviting her to perform for his guests, and it could be said that was her first foray into politics. It was through him that she became acquainted with many powerful people of many varying dispositions. She was also witness to conversations between him and his advisers, no more imposing playing the flute in the background to these men than a music box might have been. They considered her uneducated and therefor safe in the way a young child might be, though that sentiment would change in time.

Lord Bolivar was one who would change that, a man reknown for his very short fuse and nasty temperament, who was becoming a major thorn in Lord Felwind's side in matters of commerce. It was the opinion of his advisers that he should maintain a strong and unwavering front, that he should match aggression with aggression and show himself as unrelenting and powerful. During their evening walk, she asked Lord Felwind about the nature of his dealings, and whether he was convinced within his heart that his desired dealings would truly benefit Lord Bolivar as well. When Lord Felwind said they would, in fact, if the man would only see reason, Anstass suggested that perhaps the best course of action would be one detached from emotion and ego, giving the Lord Bolivar the deference that he must have dearly craved. He should poise any desired dealings in such a way as to make him come to that conclusion on his own, so he was participating in the creation of the idea rather than being presented with a ready-made one.

Lord Felwind pondered both methods and decided to hold a conference with Lord Bolivar, at which Anstass was present and infusing an air of pleasantness and soothing over the meeting. Lord Felwind was a masterful communicator, avoiding the topic of a deal entirely for the first hour of their conversation. Instead, it was of Lord Bolivar's family and feats, his good hunts, his exploits with women, his travels, and details of his life he might share with a friend. It was in that atmosphere that Lord Felwind posed not a proposition, but a problem he had been facing in his trade in an area that the Lord Bolivar was well-involved, that perhaps he might be able to provide advice for. It wasn't very long until the trade agreement was one that Lord Bolivar himself proposed with the same sort of unshakable tenacity and will with which he refuted any ideas imposed upon him.

Many disapproved of the idea of allowing a sheltered monk with no experience or education in politics, especially the politics of this region, to serve as an adviser in such a capacity, but she was soon part of the discussions rather than a flutist in the background. She was an ethical voice in the background, uneducated in war but unparalleled in empathy toward suffering, not gifted in matters of manipulation, but completely given to the idea of unfettered honesty and benevolent intention. In advice she was what she had always practiced to be: genuine, compassionate, well-intended, and a pacifist. She was neither loud nor abrasive, commanding or domineering, and she had no ego attached to whether she was heeded or not. Without even trying, she was very polarizing for his council. The more tempered among them who shared similar traits loved her, and those with the most ego resented her, but she stayed because she was asked by the lord himself, and - in her opinion - esteemed far too highly for speaking what she drew from age-old lessons of virtue and honor. The difference or commonality between her and the men seated seemed to just be a matter of how seriously they'd taken those lessons.

Lord Felwind was not the most popular man in the political arena, and having a monk as an adviser worsened that. His methodology in choosing those he traded with was not based on wealth or influence, but more involved with the ethics of the deal, and the character and integrity of the men making it. A massive accumulation of wealth did not make a a person morally sound or well-intended, and often times it seemed, the opposite was the true. But for those who Lord Felwind chose to deal and ally himself with, he found himself with steadfast and honorable company, men and women of valor. He also found himself deserted by a few of his council for the lack of greed in his decision-making, and no small amount of resentment for the pacifist among his ranks.

One of his departed, disgruntled advisers, maneuvered himself in league with one of the lord's more powerful enemies. He divulged as much as he could of the Lord's confidences, and among other things, began the very vicious rumor that he'd employed a witch to hex the minds of his partners and disguised her as a healer. He was paid very well for his treason, but this was the beginning of something very vicious for the Lord and all those in his association.

Lord Felwind's wife fell ill, and Anstass was excused from anything except serving as aid to the woman. She was weak and of poor constitution, and often experienced pain that even Anstass could not full alleviate despite all of her training. Anstass moved to staying steadfast by the lady's side, just as Seeker had faithfully been beside hers. The two of them had only had some minor interaction, but she found herself confidant to the whole of the lady's life, her wishes and dreams, her failures and regrets, her confessions, and her grief. The lady knew she was dying, and Anstass, while saddened, accepted the short lifespan of a newfound friend. When Lady Felwind passed, the Lord was lost to his grief, and Anstass became more of a shoulder for him than she'd ever been before. In times prior, he had been her benevolent Lord to whom she was loyal, and in this time, their relationship grew more personal than in any time before. By those who knew them, Anstass was described as a good companion and a kind-hearted monk who kept Lady Felwind from suffering. By those who despised them, Anstass was the witch who'd poisoned Lady Felwind to usurp her position, and used her wiles to find power over the noble if she had not hexed him herself.

After his wife's burial, Lord Felwind showed no interest in finding a partner, though many suitable women were brought to his attention. He retired himself more from his business, which those in his employ happily continued without bothering him. He busied himself as best he could, and he spent more and more time with Anstass, even sitting with her in the floor of her cottage and eating the vegetarian meals she was partaking in. Sometimes they spoke, others they didn't, but it was nothing short of serene for Anstass, and seemingly so for her companion.

After a year or so, as Lord Felwind eased himself back into his affairs, he had a meal prepared for himself and Anstass, meatless but in styles originating in the fallen Lo-debar. It was then he confessed a romantic love for her, and also then that Lord Felwind was politely rejected by the monk because of her pre-existing oaths. Despite this, he was never unkind to her, and even spared her much knowledge of his disappointment.

It was not long after this that they received word that Lord Bolivar and his men had slaughtered a group of Lord Felwind's traders and were heading to take the manor. According to the stunted version of the story they'd received, Lord Bolivar had been told that Anstass had hexed him during their meeting to make him comply with an agreement. He was humiliated and felt taken for a fool, and he intended to have her head for her impudence.

Lord Felwind assembled his troops for the first time since Anstass had known him. Where she'd mostly seen him in formal attire, he was suited in armor and out for blood. Anstass didn't have to make her objections known; her lord and friend already knew them. She did, however, tail the group on horseback, not bothering to ask permission she knew would not be granted.

When the group assembled atop a knoll across from Lord Bolivar and his men, Anstass tied her horse up further from them and walked out herself. Lord Felwind was, to say the least, displeased to see her, and demanded her a guard, which she insisted was unnecessary but was overruled. Lord Bolivar and his men charged and they were soon embroiled in a clash.

It was in this fight that both sides saw Anstass in a light they never had. She removed her hood and had skin of pure, smooth white, like living marble. Her irises were totally gone, and she looked like the statue of a monk on the field. Lord Bolivar and his men found themselves fighting men essentially impervious to injury because their wounds healed so swiftly, their pain was decreased. While his men felt they faced a witch, Lord Felwind's men felt they were aided by an angel, so the difference in morale was stark as well. Lord Bolivar soon found himself retreating, but not before one of his archers attempted to bury an arrow in the witch. The arrow impacted her as it might have stone, chipping her skin but ultimately doing no real harm.

Lord Felwind was perhaps too awe-stricken to be fully angry, though he was. When her marble skin was dropped, her chest was bruised where the arrow would have driven into her heart. It was a risk the Lord would not have had her take if he'd had his way, and he was more concerned than angry.

It wasn't a month later until Lord Felwind was assassinated. Anstass would have been killed in that attack, when they razed his manor to the ground, if not for Seeker waking and assaulting her would-be assassin. With the help of surviving guard and her own stone skin ability, she escaped.

Lord Felwind was dead, and it was rumored that his allies were teaming up with a witch. They were fiercely outnumbered, but her reputation with his allies, as well as the late Lord Felwind's, was enough to have them take up arms for her protection. They were outnumbered. During the battle that ensued, Anstass did her best to keep their men alive, but Lord Bolivar and his allies were beheading them and damaging them beyond healing with volleys of arrows. Finally, when her last charge was dead, she dropped her blessing of stone skin and let a blade pierce her heart. Her heart was broken anyway, and she had served her purpose, so in her last conscious act, she relinquished her life, and her soul to Pietas' graces.

Looking For Active RP Partners

I find the idea of playing an angel interesting. I prefer finding some direction and/or plot, IE a quest or something, so we're not just kind of stagnating with no next thing to go toward. I'm assuming this would be highly combat-oriented given their opposing natures, so that would be interesting.

Also I'm pretty lost as to the difference between casual and advanced if both have similar posting lengths and plots?

Terra Magica Redux [Post Apocalyptic Fantasy]

Interested. I like the idea of forming a quest group and bein' a mage ^.^

Amnesia in Space

Awakening was sudden, and in the moments upon awakening, she simply breathed and gathered her senses. Memory felt like a dream she'd just departed, almost on the edge of her mind but eluding her grasp. She realized first and foremost that she didn't know where she was. She understood her surroundings on a deeper level. A computerized warning appeared on the HUD before her eyes, that her stasis pod door was experiencing a failure.

Instinctively, she reached with her left hand and pressed on a panel, which slid into the machine with a hiss. Within was a manual toggle, a simple red emergency level that she pulled. She heard the door disengage, and pushed with both hands to force the door open. She noted that she had no feeling in her right arm from her fingers to her elbow, but she couldn't see the appendage because of her suit.

Now freed, she examined her HUD, noting the low atmosphere reading. What occurred to her next was frustration that whomever was supposed to be monitoring the ship had not been maintaining it properly, then that she wasn't certain who was supposed to be monitoring the ship... and, as a tertiary thought, she wasn't certain what her duties were, much less her own identity. Her mind produced no family to speak of. No world to miss. She was blank. Past-less. Future-less... Nameless.

Nameless didn't revel in the realization long, instead pushing off gently from her standing position to float, then kicking off rapidly from the back of her stasis pod like a swimmer propelling herself from the pool's edge. She needed to get to the bridge, to work toward atmospheric stabilization, and her identity wasn't significant toward that goal.

Nameless navigated in the fashion of a swimmer down the halls, instinct leading her way, not even giving in to wondering why she knew the way. She knew it, some part of her did, and that was what was leading her. She entered the bridge in time to observe four other crewman, and to hear their unanimous question of, “Who are you?”

She deactivated her HUD in a moment, greeted with a smear of blood that obscured her visor. She wiped it away with her left had, noting immediately that they were all similarly dressed. That told her two things immediately: (1) they were a part of the same crew, suffering the same memory loss, and (2) no one was an immediate threat to her. She reactivated the HUD with that realization made, immediately speaking into the comms, “That's a problem for med bay. We need to get this can breathable. It's the only item on my bucket list right now.”

Amnesia in Space

Name: Camille Stokes

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Physical Description: Standing roughly 5'6, Camille is slightly above average height for a female. Her hair is a dark chocolate brown and mostly straight, hanging about to her waist. She has a rounded face with hazel brown and green eyes, rounded eyebrows, a straight, proportional nose and full lips. She is buxom with an average frame and pallid skin. Her arms are covered in small freckles and moles, and while her left hand ends in a normal hand with long, slender fingers, her right arm ends at the elbow. Attached to this is a bionic prosthetic that perfectly replicates an arm similar to her left down to matching finger sizes. The material is clear, revealing the inner workings of a metal skeletal structure and digits with colored wires running like veins up the arm. The forearm has a removable panel where the power cell is located. Her suit has turquoise patches, otherwise standard issue.

Special Skills: She shows a proficiency with electronics, assembling and disassembling, and computer usage. Her bionic right arm is powerful, and if she doesn't operate it with finesse, can crush things easily.

Profession: Uncertain

History: Uncertain

Personality:
BEHAVIOR
In the short time Camille has been awake, she's been known for an irreverent and often gallows sense of humor. She has an almost off-putting ability to simply accept the current situation seemingly without the token amount of panic, immediately delving into planning, reaction, and suggestion or direction as necessary. She embraces and builds off the current reality, disinterested in unproductive speculation if there is or can be no practical solution or plan for it.

INTERPERSONAL
Camille is a friendly and compassionate person with a crude and sometimes cutting sense of humor, a crewman who embraces the crew and goes out of her way for them. She tends to be very forthcoming about her thoughts, opinions, and recommendations, but she doesn't flinch if her plans aren't the one followed. In short, she has the opinionated directness of a leader, but total indifference about assuming such a position.

ALONE
Camille suffers from bouts of paranoia when alone which she finds unsettling, up to and including irrational feelings of panic. She has a heightened startle response as well. In short, she's far from her typical facade of in-control and directed calmness. She seeks to be surrounded by the crew for that reason, even opting to sleep in common areas when she can get by with it. She avoids isolation, and she also avoids the dark, although she's not entirely certain where her aversions come from.

(open) Beyond Humanity: Chaos Quarantine (Supernatural, modern fantasy)

Melo approved my character via PM; posted on Characters (Nicole "Tennessee" Woods)

(open) Beyond Humanity: Chaos Quarantine (Supernatural, modern fantasy)

Name: Nicole “Tennessee” Woods
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Appearance:


Natalie Portman

Personality: Tennessee was what one would have considered the quintessential good girl. Even from miserable beginnings, she dug herself up and had to decide what sort of person she was going to be. At different times in her life, she tried to fit other molds, but she just didn't belong there. She was too caring to pretend like she wasn't. So, she was a smart ass, but concerned with morality and moving beyond what she'd seen. At heart, she just wanted to live in peace and contentment, and for the people who seemed diametrically opposed to those very simple desires to kindly piss off. Simple pleasures.

For the past few years, Tennessee had become more and more interested in the philosophy of Buddhism and finding her own inner peace. That's not to say she was as restrained as a monk or as flambuoyant as a new age artist deciding to paint using their own naked body as opposed to brushes (not that there's anything wrong with that, assuming the artist is hygenic). It does mean, however, that she had become a pacifist in that time... a worldview that really does not mesh well with her current circumstances, where it's everyone for themselves.

Ability: Nicole gained control over the dead. She has the ability to animate corpses, to peruse their senses, and even use the abilities of the fallen. Initially, she can animate a limited number of the undead. Starting out, she can animate about 5 human bodies at a time, perhaps a few more if they're children, much more if they're small animals. While she can animate these bodies using normal human abilities and motion, however, it takes far more concentration to animate a body with super powers. She can only utilize the body's abilities to the extent of her own power level (meaning if she found the corpse of a very powerful telekinetic but was still at her newly awakened state, she could only operate that corpse to the same capacity it could have at its newly awakened state). She also loses capacity to control other corpses while she does so. If the corpse or corpses that she controls are decapitated or damaged beyond function, at this stage, she is unable to mend or salvage them.

Background: Nicole was born and raised in the southern United States, specifically Tennessee, and this was especially noticeable in her southern drawl. She had a rough upbringing but placed an importance on her education despite it. She was studying abroad in London and living with flatmates (who had affectionately nicknamed her “Tennessee” because of her dialect).

March 1st seemed rather uneventful. It began around 12:00 with Tennesee and her roommates, Danica and Sarah, waking to what sounded like distant thunder. They went about their day and talked amongst themselves, laughing and having conversations about whatever came to mind for about the first 30 minutes or so, until Danica pointed out that a huge mob of people were running through the streets, which were jammed with traffic at a standstill, and even those drivers were sometimes abandoning their cars to run. The three of them watched this river of people, speculating as to why they were fleeing as they were. The booms of thunder were growing louder, or so it seemed, and Tennessee commented that it sounded more like the cannon fire she'd heard at civil war re-enactments near her hometown.

The three of them saw a man crawling alongside building facades, watching the crowd. He was crawling sideways, like one might have imagined Spiderman doing, and they watched and pointed at him. Then he jumped a pedestrian and they lost him behind the cover of a van. They were all alarmed, of course, and trying in vain to call emergency services, when the man emerged from behind the van holding a blood and dismantled torso... and with additional limbs attached to his own body. They all screamed, of course, and were between panicking and tears at the surrealism. The booms got louder, and they lost their humanoid in the throngs of people. The booms stopped for a time, then abruptly the van in front of the building exploded into fire and shrapnel. The booms were coming from a man hurling vehicle-sized fireballs at anything and everything in his path, with a wicked grin from ear-to-ear. He then started in on the buildings, throwing fire and torching everything he passed. That was when the three of them ran and took to the back stairs, as far away from him as that could get.

Sarah and Danica, while panicking and scared and even crying at times, were, thankfully, not freezing up in the situation. They stuck together and kept to the alleys behind their building. They weren't eager to join the mob and be preyed upon. Of the three, though, Tennessee had this feeling of... otherness, for lack of a better word, that she attributed to shock. She became more and more aware of it as they traveled together, this feeling that something was off, this awareness of things that she shouldn't have felt aware of. She was seeing flashes of things that weren't within her own field of vision, feeling sensations that didn't belong to her own body, and they were only getting stronger and more numerous as the carnage continued.

It was only when the three of them found themselves face-to-face with a strangely vacant-looking young man that she would realize what was happening. He looked at them at first, then he was gone in an instant. They were all afraid, of course, but all he'd done was disappear before their eyes. It was the most present and tangible silence Tennessee had ever experienced in the seconds that followed. What happened next was that Danica's head twisted and cracked at an unnatural angle, and she and Sarah began to run together. Tennessee felt a smashing blow to the back of her head and hit the ground hard. It was hard for her to rouse herself, but she caught sight of Sarah struggling and fighting against seemingly nothing as her buttoned shirt was being torn down the front. It was apparent that the being they'd seen was invisible. The thing is, Tennessee was still face down on the cement. The eyes she looked through were not her own... but Danica's.

She moved through Danica's limbs, stretching out this body that wasn't damaged and letting her own safely lie still as if dead. She picked her up as silently as she could and moved the damaged neck around, aware of limitations in its range of motion that she should not have had. All at once, she threw all of Danica's weight at the nothingness that was stripping Sarah on the pavement. She felt the force of impact with the body and wrapped her arms around it with Danica's body, even as she began to move her own. Danica's body clamped her legs and arms around him, and there was a sort of shimmer where he was, like heat coming off of the pavement. Danica jolted her head forward and bit into the side of the invisible man's neck, forcing her jaws closed with all the pressure she was capable of. Blood spurted out of him and he screamed in pain and anger, and while the corpse struggled against him, Tennessee pulled Sarah to her feet and fled.

Tennessee struggled against the man, watching as he lost concentration and revealed his bloody body, responding to his attacks. He was fighting the corpse, dealing vicious attacks, but neither Danica nor Tennessee felt the pain in Danica's body any longer. She fought him like she had nothing to lose, because she had nothing to lose... Danica was gone. There was only Tennessee, in both bodies, until the invisible man crushed the corpse's head.

Sarah was rattled beyond words, crying and sobbing for both what almost became of her, and her fear of Danica's mobilized corpse. It was then that Tennessee, just as distraught, confessed to her that she was the one steering it. She didn't know how, or why, but she was in tune with all of the corpses in range. She felt like she was slumped against a steering wheel here, or the pressure of being impaled upon a knife there, even the crude pavement between her, as if she had but to get up in numerous bodies. The most sickening fact though was that the sensation was growing with every death, the potential to take control rising with every tragedy. Of the two, Sarah had become Tennessee's good friend... her best friend. They'd shared things about their lives and pasts that none other knew. They'd shared laughter and tears, personal experiences, everything about each other... and in that moment, Sarah looked at her like she was a monster waiting to attack, screaming to be left alone, fleeing from her, and Tennessee didn't give chase... just sort of sank to the pavement and curled it upon herself. Whatever happened... she was going to be facing it alone.

Other: Feel free to NPC the enemies in the history :3

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

@Elle Santiago Thanks for your interest! PM incoming!

@Kaycey I haven't started any threads yet, so I have time to plot with you! PM incoming :3