Qia

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

Aiming to get a post up on Friday :)

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Harper sat cross-legged on the soft, cream-coloured rug that covered the floor of their cozy living room. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan provided a soothing background noise, lulling her into a false sense of calm. Her mother's slender fingers moved through her hair with a graceful and practiced rhythm, deftly weaving the strands into intricate braids. The sweet, familiar scent of her mother's hair oil filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere that Harper tried not to fall for.

As she gazed down at the intricate patterns of the rug, her mind buzzed with a whirlwind of thoughts, each one vying for her attention and refusing to settle. She knew. Some way, somehow, her mother knew. The burden of her mother's unspoken disapproval bore down on her, adding to the weight of guilt she already felt. Harper had skipped her classes not just once, but at least five times. However, the thrill of rebellion had long since faded, replaced by anxiety over the heavy consequences of her actions.

The young girl wished she could say that was the worst of it, too.

The guilt consumed her, and she couldn't help but wonder if her parents, especially her father, were furious with her. Her mother would have confided in him. How could she not?

Finally, her mother broke the silence, her tone gentle yet unwavering. “Harper, is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

Harper's stomach tightened with a mix of anxiety and guilt, and she felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks as she prepared to confront her mother. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she made the difficult decision to come clean. "I... I skipped school today," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her mother's hands, which had been deftly working on Harper's hair, paused for a fraction of a second before continuing the braid. The room fell into a heavy silence as she seemed to process the revelation. "Now, we both know I ain’t got no patience for fibbin’, ‘specially not under my own roof,” her mom finally said, her voice steady but with a shadow of sorrow in it.

Harper swallowed hard, feeling the shame settle in. “Ok… it may have happened a couple of times.” As she uttered the words, she could feel the weight of her mother's disappointment settling upon her like a physical force, making her breath catch in her throat. She avoided her gaze, staring instead at the intricate braid unfolding in her hands, feeling the warmth of her touch and the gentle tug of her fingers as she worked.

Caught red-handed, Harper couldn't shake the familiar sting of her mother's disapproval. Regret tugged at her heart, swiftly followed by a slow, simmering anger. How had she found out? The question echoed in her mind, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable until it dawned on her.

Sierra. It had to be her! Her sister had wanted revenge and this is how she’d decided to get it.

“Did that big mouth blab about it?” Harper said, turning a fraction but stopping cold once she saw the expression on her mother’s face. She could see the anger simmering beneath, but it was the deep disappointment etched on her face that cut the deepest.

“I reckon it don’t matter none who spilled the beans,” her mother snapped back, sharp as a whip. Harper flinched, her hand flying to her cheek as if to ward off the pain of a slap. “My own flesh and blood, tellin’ tales to my face, day in and day out.” Her mother shook her head, looking into her eyes. “Harper, you know how crucial your learnin’ is. I ain’t mad ‘bout you spendin’ time with… with some young man, though your daddy might not see it the same. What gets to me is you choosin’ to be dishonest and shirkin’ your duties. That ain’t the young woman I brought you up to be.”

Harper's eyes welled up with tears as she looked away, her voice shaking with emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you…" she whispered. She took a deep breath and looked back up at her mother, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I know it was wrong, but I just really like him, Mom. He's been makin' me feel like nobody else ever has. And I know I shouldn't have lied, but it just felt like no one understood me, and I thought he did... and then you found out..."Harper's voice trailed off as she broke down, tears streaming down her face.

Her mother's expression softened slightly, and she reached out to gently brush a tear from Harper's cheek. "Oh, my darlin’, my heart aches for you, it really does," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I know it’s hard, bein’ fourteen and all, not quite a child and not yet a woman. But that’s alright, sugar, 'cause we’re gonna get through this together. We’ll sit down and have us a long talk ‘bout handlin’ these new feelings, ‘bout bein’ open and honest with each other. But we gotta lay down one rule straight as an arrow: you ain’t grown yet. You’re still my baby girl, and it’s my job to keep you safe. That means I need you to be honest with me, no matter what.”

Harper looked up at her mother, her eyes still welling up with tears, but a small glimmer of hope flickered in them. She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "M-mom... I promise I'll try to be honest from now on," she said, her voice shaky. "I just didn't know what to do, and I felt like you wouldn't understand... but I promise I'll tell you everything from now on. Can... can we still have that talk about feelings and stuff?" Harper's voice trailed off, and she looked up at her mother with big, pleading eyes. "And can I still see him? Just a little bit? I promise I'll be careful and won't do anything wrong."

Harper’s father entered the room just then, his presence like a quiet storm brewing on the horizon. His gaze, steady and discerning, settled on Harper’s tear-streaked visage. He cleared his throat, a subtle prelude to the firmness that was to come—a firmness Harper knew all too well. One that had always commanded her respect, even as it made her heart quail.

“Harper, darlin’, seems to me you’re overlookin’ a key point here,” he began, his voice carrying the undercurrent of authority yet devoid of harshness. “Your mama and I have had ourselves a discussion, and we’re of one mind that there ought to be some consequences for skippin’ school. And now, here you are, wonderin’ if you can keep seein’ this boy?” He shook his head, a silent punctuation to his disapproval. “You’re just 14, and your studies ought to be your bread and butter. Chasin’ after boys when you ought to be hittin’ the books just ain’t the way.”

He glanced toward Harper’s mother, who stood with a word of comfort at the ready, but he pressed on. “I get that you’re tryin’ to be the understandin’ one, darlin’, but it falls to me to make sure we don’t lose sight of what’s important. And that’s keepin’ this family on the straight and narrow.”

Harper's eyes dropped to the floor, her face burning with shame and disappointment. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She had been so sure that her mom would be on her side, that she would understand her feelings.

But now, her dad was ruining everything.

The young girl bit her lip, trying to hold back another round of tears, but they were already welling up in her eyes. She looked up at her dad, her voice trembling with anger and frustration. "You're so unfair!" she spat, her words- her half-truths- laced with a childish venom. "You always do this. You always make me feel like I'm wrong. Like I'm stupid, and don’t know any better," She took a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides. "I didn't skip school because I wanted to, okay? I did it because I had to. And then...and then he came along and he was nice to me. And for once in my life, I felt like someone understood me."

Her voice cracked as she spoke, and tears began to spill down her face. She felt as though her dad's disapproving stare was crushing her spirit. She looked at her mom, hoping to see some kind of understanding or compassion, but even her mom's face seemed distant and unyielding.

Of course, she was taking his side.

"You don't get it, Dad," Harper said then, her words dripping with resentment. "You never get it. You're always so busy being the boss and being right, that you never stop to think about how we feel." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving her parents in stunned silence. As she ascended the stairs, the last strains of conversation reached her, a muffled exchange between the two people who stood as pillars in her life.

"Well, I'll be…."

“Now, James, hold your tongue. That’s your own stubborn pride talkin’, and you know it.”

---

Harper slammed her bedroom door behind her, the echo reverberating through the quiet house. She threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow as tears of frustration and shame flowed freely. Her father's words had cut deep, and she couldn't shake the feeling of being misunderstood and unfairly judged.

Minutes passed, and the raw edge of her anger began to dull, leaving behind a weary sadness. She barely noticed the soft knock on her door before it creaked open. Her mother’s footsteps were light as she crossed the room, sitting gently on the edge of Harper’s bed. Harper didn’t move, keeping her back to her mom and her face buried in the pillow.

"Harper, honey," her mom began softly, gently stroking her hair. "I know you're hurtin', but we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," Harper muttered into the pillow, her voice muffled and sullen.

“Harper, darlin’,” her mom sighed, her fingers tenderly working through Harper’s hair. “Sometimes it might feel like the whole world’s lined up against ya and it seems like your daddy’s bein’ too tough. But he loves ya somethin’ fierce. We both do.”

"It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like he’s always angry with me and Si." Especially her sister. Despite whatever petty arguments they’d had over the years, she knew she could always count on her sister and always tried to be there for her during the harder moments. Lately, however, her father and she had been fighting more and more. What about, Harper wasn’t sure.

“We get all worked up ‘cause we’re concerned. We want ya to make the right decisions, to be honest, and to trust us enough to share what’s goin’ on. Skippin’ school and sneakin’ around… it ain’t the right path, baby.”

Harper stayed silent, though her breathing began to steady. All the while, her mom continued to stroke her hair gently, letting the quiet moment between them stretch just a bit longer. Then, she took a deep breath, as if gathering her thoughts.

"There's something else I want to talk to you about," she said softly. "When it comes to boys, I want you to remember something very important. A boy who encourages you to go against your values, to do things you know aren't right, isn’t looking out for you. You gotta find the right one for you."

"You mean someone like Dad?"

Her mom paused, just for a heartbeat, her eyes shadowed with a hint of something Harper couldn’t decipher before she offered up a tender smile. “No, darlin’, not quite. Your daddy wants the very best for ya, but that don’t mean you gotta go lookin’ for someone just like him.”

"Then what do you mean?"

Her mom took a deep breath, her words slow and deliberate. “What I’m sayin’ is, you oughta be lookin’ for someone who respects you and what you stand for. Someone who makes it easy to be yourself, and no one else. Someone who lifts you up to be the best you can be, not someone who’s pushin’ you towards things that don’t sit right with you.”

That list seemed to be getting longer and longer the more her mother went on, but Harper nodded her head, regardless."So, if a boy makes me feel like I gotta change who I am, he ain’t the right one for me?"

“That’s right,” her mom confirmed, her tone soft yet unwavering. “A true-blue relationship’s built on mutual respect and understandin’. If he really cares ‘bout you, he’ll back you up in doin’ what’s right, even when it’s tough.” Her mom’s lips drew into a thin line, a hint of humour in her eyes. “Now, let’s be real here, you ain’t gonna be datin’ till you’re at least half my age, so all this talk is for down the road.”

Harper snorted. Sure.

“And,” her mother began again, her tone a bit more serious this time, “you need to apologize to your father for raising your voice the way you did. Not right this minute, but soon. Don’t dilly-dally on it, alright? Showing respect is important, even when we’re nursing a hurt.”

"But-"

“He’s tryin', Harper. He’s tryin’ very hard for you and your sister,” her mom interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine…"

Her mom leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, darlin’. And remember, we’re always here for you. Trust in that, and trust your instincts.”

As her mom left the room, Harper lay back, her mind a little clearer, her heart a little lighter. She still had a lot to figure out, but for now, she knew she wasn’t alone.

And, hopefully, she never would be.

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.103: The Path of Least Resistance

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_{Interaction(s):N/A- just a transition post people keep it pushin'}

Previously: Veiled Horizons

Harper sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, the cool night air seeping through the thin fabric of the tent. Outside, the soft hum of nocturnal insects orchestrated a symphony, contrasting sharply with the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind. She mulled over the day’s revelations, the secrets she and Haven had unearthed, and the lingering questions that danced at the edges of her consciousness.

Clad in a well-loved t-shirt and soft, faded shorts that hugged her skin with familiar ease, Harper fought the relentless pull of sleep. Her eyelids, heavy as lead, waged a silent war against her will to stay awake, making the hurried scrawl in the notebook before her blur into indecipherable glyphs. With each passing moment, the sounds of the wilderness outside merged into a lullaby, luring her gaze towards the inky void just beyond the tent flap, and then to the vacant sleeping bag nearby—a silent reminder of his absence. For now.

She wanted to talk to him. Despite everything with Cass and the sudden resurgence of a memory she had long believed lost to the depths of her mind, she wanted to clear the air of any misunderstanding she’d caused because of her thoughtless remarks.

Simple.

Yet, it was never that simple with Gil.

And unfortunately for her, she'd never gotten the chance to have that conversation with her mother.

Being around Gil had always made Harper feel like she was walking a tightrope, balancing precariously between wanting to open up and fearing the pain that might come with it. But his presence demanded honesty and authenticity, and that terrified her more than she cared to admit. To make matters worse, today was probably the first time she’d actually managed to say something substantial to the guy in that direction. And of course, she had to insinuate sleeping with him, all 3 of him, while she was at it.

Harper let out a deep, fatigued sigh, her fingers flipping through the notebook’s pages without intent, as her thoughts meandered back to the exchange with Haven. The name ‘Tiamat’ lingered in her mind—a name chosen or bestowed, it carried the weight of ancient myth. Could Amma truly embody the peril of the primordial goddess she was named for? With a soft click of her tongue, Harper’s pen danced across the paper, adding a new name beneath the two etched there: Katja. Reluctance gnawed at her, yet the events at the beach whispered of Katja’s closeness to Amma, perhaps close enough to hold answers.

As for anyone else, the Trials were tomorrow and she highly doubted she would have time to even talk to Katja then. And if there was anything else she was taking from her conversation with Cass, it was his advice to be careful. One foot in front of the other.

The burden of her ruminations coaxed the notebook from her grasp, compelling her to seek refuge in the embrace of her sleeping bag. She lay back, her eyes ascending to the tent’s canvas sky, beseeching the universe for a revelation, for an answer to the tangled web of problems that she was now stuck in.

And, most of all, for Gil to get here before sleep claimed her unwillingly.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.098: Veiled Horizons

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_{Interaction(s):Haven-@Skai,Cass-@Lord Wraith}

Previously: Trials and Tribulations

The world turned white for Harper. She blinked furiously, trying to chase away the afterimages that danced before her eyes. The flashbang’s detonation was a physical blow, the light sharp enough to slice through her defences—powered or not.

The girl’s irritation, which had been simmering just below the surface, now bubbled into a silent fury. The flashbang was a cheap trick, a desperate grab for control, and it stung more than her retinas. It was an affront, a challenge, and Harper felt the familiar thrill of battle rise within her. She was no stranger to conflict, being the baby sister of someone who could be an angel at best and a devil at worst, but she preferred her battles to be strategic, her victories earned through wit and will rather than brute force.

So, for the sake of peace, she did not try to retaliate, begrudgingly nodding in agreement to stay behind with Cass.

As they departed, the trio of Mira, Layla and Simone chattered happily while pushing through the campsite, not paying attention to their surroundings before accidentally bumping into Harper and knocking the other girl to the ground.

"Hey," Cass called sarcastically, "Watch out"

"Real class act, Cass" Scolded Simone as she reached down with Mira to help Harper back up. "Sorry about that, we'll watch where we're going next time."

Harper’s mind was a whirlwind of strategies as she navigated the new, vexing predicament before her. Lost in thought, she barely registered the solid object that collided with her side, sending her tumbling to the ground. Her reflexes kicked in, hands splayed out to brace for impact. The ground met her with an unyielding thud, and a jolt of surprise coursed through her—the pain was absent, but the shock of the fall lingered.

She was a formidable presence, not as much as Katja but not one so easily toppled either. So, the realization that she had been caught off guard in such an extreme manner added a sting to her pride.

There she was, momentarily grounded, her usual poise disrupted by an unforeseen force of three apologetic girls.

As she accepted the hands reaching out to her, Harper’s face warmed with a rosy hue of chagrin and annoyance. Her eyes flicked towards Cass, delivering a silent but scathing rebuke, before she redirected her gaze to Simone and Mira. Her smile was strained, an effort to mask the confusion beneath her composed exterior.

“Thanks, no harm done,” Harper asserted, brushing off her attire with swift, deliberate strokes. She ignored Cass's sarcastic remark as she took the seat opposite his; Harper wasn't about to let him get under her skin more than he already had. Still, if she was stuck with the guy she might as well try to converse.

“Alright, Cass,” she said, her voice steady. “Since we're stuck here, how about you stop being a jerk for a minute and tell me a bit about yourself? Or are you all bravado just for show?”

Cass raised an amused eyebrow at Harper's question, allowing himself a half-smirk. Sure he had been a jerk to the girl but he was starting to take a liking to the spitfire brunette.

"Not much to tell, my mom sucked, my dad was an abusive drunk. Bounced around in foster care for most of my life until the Jones' adopted me just before my Hype-Gene activated and I got shipped to P.R.C.U. Was here about five minutes then I was impaled through the shoulder by Hyperion." He rubbed his shoulder, looking towards the dark sky above.

"Still hurts when it rains." He leaned back in his seat, creating a ball of kinetic energy he proceeded to juggle while talking. "I don't bond with people well," He allowed himself a half smile, nodding towards Harper apologetically. He tossed the ball of energy higher before re-absorbing it.

"You got a date to the dance?"

Harper raised an eyebrow, not expecting Cass to open up so candidly. The vulnerability in his words contrasted sharply with his earlier bravado, and it caught her off guard. For a moment, she felt a pang of empathy for him.

“Sounds like you've had it rough,” she said, her tone softer, though she maintained her guarded posture. “But that doesn't give you a free pass to be a jerk, you know?”

She watched as Cass played with the ball of kinetic energy, noting the way he seemed to use it as a distraction, a way to avoid deeper emotional engagement as he’d stated.

Which was why his question about the dance came out of nowhere for her, and Harper blinked in surprise.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

“The dance?” Harper repeated, momentarily thrown off. The thought of the dance brought back a rush of emotions. She had hoped to be asked by Gil, of course, but as she recalled his previous words, she found that it reopened deep wounds she’d thought had healed.

Just another face in the crowd. One of his many fans. She hadn’t changed that yet…had she?

“No, I don't have a date,” the brunette finally admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness she tried to mask.

She leaned back slightly, studying Cass with a curious look now. “Why do you ask? Trying to make up for being a jerk by offering to take me?” Harper teased, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Of course, that couldn’t be it, right? “Or are you just trying to see if I can keep up with you on the dance floor? Because I’ll have you know I’m a pretty good dancer,” she added, her tone playful but with an underlying challenge.

“Gonna need more than a little flashbang to rattle me.”

"Who was being a jerk?" Cass replied playfully, "I was just watching out for my friends, I’m just suffering from crippling brutal honesty." He added with a wink.

"I've already seen you squirm, so I hope you dance better than that because trust me." He leaned forward, "The flash isn't the bang you'll be talking about."

He stopped, pursing his lips before shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah I heard it. That was gross." Cass apologized, retreating into his seat, "But I digress, if I'm lucky enough that no one else has asked, I'd like to take a spitfire like you. Would be a lot of fun to actually have someone to keep up with."

Harper reclined, her expression a blend of amusement and skepticism. “Oh, watching out for your friends? That sure is one convenient cover for ‘brutal honesty,’” she quipped, the irony not lost on her. “But if we’re handing out points for honesty, I’ll give you this—your approach is certainly… unique.” But a method she recognized all too well. Hadn’t she just mirrored that same blunt honesty with Aurora?

Cass’s clumsy attempt at humour drew a smirk from Harper, her eyes rolling in feigned annoyance. “Oh no, your charm is overwhelming. Please don’t stop on my account,” she drawled, the edges of her voice quivering with suppressed laughter. He had a knack for humour, albeit awkward and a touch cringe-worthy.

She paused, her gaze lingering on Cass as she considered his offer. “A spitfire, huh? I like the sound of that. It’s got a certain… spark.” It was a welcome change from the drab monikers of ‘drill sergeant’ or ‘stick in the mud’, that was for sure.

As for her answer, her thoughts returned to Gil’s image- a hope held close to her heart, yet always just out of reach. To attend the dance with Cass, who was honestly a wildcard beyond what he’d already shown here, was to step into uncharted territory. Just like with Gil. Maybe that’s why he was a chapter that just refused to close for her. He was simply too enticing. But Cass…Cass might be the pen she needed to write a new story.

Or, at least, someone to attend a stupid dance with.

With a breath that felt like the first step into a wider world, Harper made her choice.

“Alright, then,” she finally said, her voice steady. “I’ll go to the dance with you.”

"It's a date then, Spitfire," Cass replied with a genuine smile. "Now I have a real reason to dread it." He teased before blowing a few strands of wavy blonde hair out of his green eyes. He looked over to Haven and Alyssa before turning back to Harper.

"I don't know what you and Wings hope to actually get out of the Space Cadet over there, but hopefully it helps, I guess. For what it's worth, Foundation didn't leave me with the best first impression. Torres' comment about Hyperion was a little too close to the chest." He rubbed the scar through his shirt again.

"I hope we're wrong about them and they actually are the good guys, if not then I'm sure you'll have no problem rallying the troops."

Harper’s expression softened, a gentle acknowledgment of the scars they all bore, some visible, others hidden deep within. Hyperion’s legacy was etched into the very fabric of their lives, leaving a mark that words could scarcely touch. She felt an odd sense of disconnection, an outsider to this particular pain felt by some of her teammates yet intimately aware of its pervasive shadow over their lives.

Harper's gaze flicked to Haven, remaining there as she replied. “Yeah, that’s why I’m doing this, honestly. For her. For my friends. I don’t want any of us to be taken by surprise. Not again.”

Her gaze snapped back to Cass, lingering on where he’d received his trauma.

“Would you do it if it came down to it, though? Join the fray?”

"Depends on how well you dance," He answered coyly. "One foot in front of the other first though." Cass cautioned Harper, "If you go looking for trouble, you're sure to find it."

Harper’s response was a roll of her eyes, the gesture laden with playful defiance. “Oh, is that concern I detect? And here we are, still days away from our first dance,” she bantered back, her tone light and teasing. “I appreciate that, but trouble has a way of finding me whether I try to avoid it or not.”

She leaned in slightly, her playful expression giving way to a more serious look. “Speaking of trouble,” Harper began, lowering her voice a bit. “There might be some… reservations about Amma in our group. Did Alyssa ever mention anything weird about her before? Should we be worried?”

"Alyssa isn't exactly... uh forthcoming," The blonde replied looking towards the pair currently conversing. "Not to say she's dishonest, but Alyssa speaks like a sphinx. Everything is a riddle, if she had spoken about Amma previously there's a high probability I missed it on account of the way she rambles." Cass shook his head slightly.

"She hasn't been quite the same since her and Luce took a sabbatical from P.R.C.U."

Harper nodded, absorbing the gravity of Cass’s observations. “Can you tell me about Alyssa before the break? What was she like?” Harper probed further, her curiosity sharpening. “And did she ever hint at what might have happened during their time away? Even if in riddles.”

"She's always been a chatterbox, usually will talk your ear off about anything and everything but since she came back it's like she's in another world, like she sees things no one else does. She used to be a lot more bubbly and warm, not sure how the change hasn't put more stress on her relationship with RJ." The blonde mused, his hand resting on his chin.

"Oh she did more than hint, but a lot of it is hard to believe. Something about Hellions and Magni, she talks a lot about allegedly tracking stuff of folklore and myth in Europe and having to slay them. Honestly, most of it sounds like a fantasy novel. Claims the scars on her neck are from a vampyr attack." Cassander explained, splaying his index and middle finger before tapping along the side of his neck while gesturing with his head towards the scar on Alyssa's.

Harper absorbed Cass’s portrayal of Alyssa, the image of a vivacious, chatty girl taking shape in her imagination. A sense of longing washed over her, a wish to have known Alyssa in those carefree days. Warm and outgoing sounded like traits Harper would have appreciated in a friend. And as for the other girl’s relationship with RJ…he must just really care for her. That’s what it had to be.

The words ‘Hellions’ and ‘Magni’ sparked a brief connection to the comic lore she adored, but Harper quickly dismissed the notion, knowing their reality was far stranger than fiction.

“A vampyre attack?” the brunette echoed, her tone hushed. In any other world, the concept would be laughable, but not in theirs, not where the impossible was mundane. Alyssa’s speech surely pointed to some hidden truth.

Cass nodded. “That's what she says.”

“Well, shit,” Harper replied, a shiver running down her spine.

---

Haven gave Alyssa a nod, if only to let the girl know that she'd heard and understood her. A phrase like that may have spooked her if she'd heard it on her first trip to the plateau. Yet she knew that Hyperion had left a scar on this school and the people that called this island home. Of course there was worry in everyone's hearts that another person like him would reappear one day to finish his work.

"Thanks, Alyssa. I feel better now that we've chatted." A white lie, but it had been informative. Harper would certainly know what to do with it. Better than Haven would, at least. "I'll see you around." Haven gave the girl a smile and nodded a thanks to RJ as well before she turned away.

She moved towards Harper, who seemed to miraculously be getting along with Cass. And were they... flirting? How'd they get on the topic of vampires? "Has the hothead cooled off now?" Haven said as she approached with a pointed glance towards Cassander.

Harper turned at the sound of Haven's voice, a teasing grin forming on her lips. “Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” she replied playfully. “We were just discussing some... interesting topics. But probably not as interesting as your conversation with Alyssa over there. How'd that go?”

Haven took a breath, resting a hand on her hip. "Well enough, I guess. Lot's of indirect answers, but I picked up on a few interesting things we can look into." She gave Cass a skeptical glance before stepping in closer. "I'll start with how Amma goes by Tiamat at the Foundation, and how she has been there the longest out of all of them. Well, up until last year."

"Alyssa knows that they went into the forest together," Haven murmured softly. The "they" in question being Amma and Lorcán. "Said every queen needs a prince. Ugh."

"Oh, and students have been going missing there. Apparently someone like me was her roommate, and she vanished without a feather left." The thought had her wings shiver behind her. "There's no way someone could fly across the ocean, so they couldn't have run away."

Harper’s attention was riveted on Haven, each revelation sending ripples of intrigue and apprehension through her. The alias ‘Tiamat’ used by Amma at the Foundation was not lost on her; it was a name steeped in ancient lore, synonymous with primordial chaos and creation.

"Tiamat, huh?" Harper mused aloud, her mind racing. "That's... quite a name. Definitely not one you'd pick lightly."

As Haven continued, Harper felt a shiver of unease. The image of Amma and Lorcán together in the forest, with Alyssa's cryptic comment about queens and princes, added a layer of mystery and potential danger to their relationship. Maybe Aurora had every right to worry, after all, feelings or no feelings.

What role did their strange teammate envision for Lorcán in her court?

The information about the missing students hit Harper hard. The idea of someone disappearing without a trace, especially someone with abilities like Haven's, hit even harder.

Maybe it was time to bring in the others. It was earlier than she would have liked, but with Haven or even her in some kind of danger....

“Do you think the school knows about any of this stuff?”

Haven shook her head at first, and then shrugged. "O'Neil doesn't seem happy with them being here, and I'm sure Alyssa and Amma's transfer here leaked some info about the Foundation to make him so aggressive towards the reps." She frowned. "Alyssa said that we can't trust anyone, not even faculty here on the island." Her eyes searched Harper's for guidance. "I trust O'Neil, but... maybe there are things he won't tell us because he wants to protect us."

Noting her friend’s concern, Harper placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, begging for it not to shake. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something much bigger and more dangerous than they had realized.

“We're going to figure this out,” Harper said firmly, her voice carrying a note of determination. “But we need to be smart about it. If we can't trust everyone, we need to be careful who we share this with. And that means…probably bringing in a few more people on the team.”

She frowned, clearly considering her options. "There's a lot to think about here. I'll touch base with you tomorrow. I need to process everything we've learned and figure out the best way to move forward."

Besides...she was so tired.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Lots of writing

Realms of Sun & Shadow

I mean Elara was looking for a way to get people's spirits up a bit before she got distracted

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Interactions: Sunni,Pleiades-@The Savant, Eris-@The Muse}

---

Elara emerged from the sanctuary of Princess Octavia's chambers, her spirit soaring with the thrill of encountering a few of the settlement's newcomers for the first time. The dawn air was sharp, carrying the scent of pine and the soft murmur of snowflakes that danced upon the breeze, heralding the onset of a relentless winter. Above, the night's canvas held dominion, with stars shimmering like distant beacons in the obsidian expanse, while the moon draped Dawnhaven in a spectral silver mantle. The snowflakes continued to swirl and eddy, casting a mesmerizing spell over the landscape as they settled softly upon the ground, blanketing the village in a layer of silence and tranquillity. As Elara breathed in the crisp air, she felt the magic of the season coursing through her veins, invigorating her senses and stirring her sense of wonder.

As the young woman traversed the heart of the settlement, each step was punctuated by the crisp crunch of fresh snow beneath her boots, a harbinger of the encroaching chill. In another life, she might have revelled in the first dance of the snowflakes, or the way they dressed the world in pristine white. Yet, the gravity of her current role within Dawnhaven left little room for such idle pleasures she found.

The first snow, usually a cause for celebration or quiet reflection, was now merely a backdrop to the flurry of activity and the somewhat sombre mood that had befallen her life.

No matter…the Princess had entrusted her with ensuring that everyone in Dawnhaven was prepared for the winter, a responsibility she took to heart. As she walked, she greeted the few people she passed, each face a mix of determination and weariness. Especially weariness. Elara knew that in addition to the physical preparations, it was crucial to understand the skills and abilities of the settlers here. They would need to rely on each other to get through the harsh months ahead. But perhaps some encouragement was needed first. The only question to answer from this was how.

A non-answer came unexpectedly as Elara neared the inn, an unexpected sight halting her purposeful march. A small congregation of three had formed outside, and among them stood Pleiades, a figure so striking that he seemed to have materialized from the very essence of the winter’s breath. His green-grey skin was a muted canvas against the starkness of his dark feathers, creating a visual symphony as arresting as the contrast between night and day.

His entrance was a mystery, as if he had stepped through an unseen veil between moments. Elara’s gaze lingered, captivated by the mysterious figure before her. Pleiades moved with a fluidity that defied the mundane, his every gesture an echo of a distant, dangerous realm. It was a grace that transcended the ordinary, hinting at his origins among the Blight-Born—a lineage whispered in hushed tones and veiled in superstition.

Elara’s intrigue blossomed into fascination as she continued to observe him. The Blight-Born were known to her mostly through stories and fleeting shadows at the edge of the settlement, after all. Yet here was Pleiades, a living testament to their existence, a bridge to a world that Dawnhaven’s inhabitants scarcely understood but welcomed, regardless of how creature-like they may appear.

As Elara drew closer, her intrigue slowly began to change into concern. The tension between the two men was palpable, even if she did not know the cause of it.

“Good morning,” Elara greeted them all, her voice steady despite the flutter of unease in her chest. Her eyes briefly flickered to Pleiades before moving to the other two. With a smile that carried the weight of her position, Elara infused the moment with a deliberate cheer. “It seems we're all quite busy today, already.”

Ju-V

_{Interacts with Haven (@Skai)}

---

As Sophia carefully navigated her fork through the modest meal before her, the cacophony of voices from the adjacent table seeped into her consciousness. The Kid’s confident smirk was a stark contrast to the unease that knotted in her stomach with each snippet of conversation she overheard. The thought of the group being divided loomed over her, stirring a silent wish that Nat and Haven would remain by her side, at least. Not that she was against meeting new people but the thought of there being no familiar faces with her made her anxious.

The rationale behind the division was not lost on her; the memory of Billy’s near-fatal mishap sent a shiver down her spine. The task of managing a myriad of abilities and temperaments must indeed be daunting for the overseers of this peculiar establishment.

"Two or three, or even four or five,"Sophia murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. Now she really hoped she got Haven or Nat. But…what were the chances of that, in such a big group? Not high. That’s what that meant. Still, it was entirely up to her on how to handle the situation. So, she would just have to take whatever she’s given in the best way. Somehow.

"Yup. Number #543 at your service. The lowest number at this here facility. When I started out those numbers held a lot more meaning, and the handling of the... residents... was a lot more sterile in nature. Most of us weren't considered much more than the numbers they assigned us on arrival."

This revelation halted Sophia’s meal, prompting a contemplative pause. Was it preferable to be branded an outcast or reduced to a mere numerical code? Her own experiences had taught her the sting of exclusion, yet she could scarcely fathom the coldness of being equated to a single variable in an equation.

It just seemed too dehumanizing.

It was then that Sophia’s gaze found Haven, her arrival marked by the elegant tuck of her wings—a dance of feathers and finesse. A smile graced the blonde's lips, a silent acknowledgment of the winged girl’s poise. Haven’s inquiry about the meal drew her attention back to her plate, prompting a candid assessment.

“It’s passable, I suppose. A tad on the bland side,”she admitted, her taste buds yearning for the familiar flavours of home. “But then again, I opted for the vegetarian meal, so perhaps my judgment is skewed.”

When she noticed Haven's gaze shifting towards a boy with dark brown hair—his appearance marked by more tattoos than the blonde had ever seen before—Sophia followed her line of sight. The boy, who seemed to carry the weight of his harsh experiences in every line of his face and body, stood out even among the diverse group of metahumans. His grip on the tray seemed less about the food it carried and more about the burdens he bore. Or perhaps…he was simply hungry.

Sophia leaned slightly towards Haven, her voice gentle."Do you know that guy or something?"It was a nosey question, for sure, but it was out before she could second-guess herself.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

As Orion neared the village square, his aura of steadfast loyalty was palpable, his deliberate steps halting at a vantage point from the prince and princess. His mind, ever the tactician’s, parsed their urgent exchange with alacrity, attuning to the princess’s fervent pitch and the prince’s reticent stance. With a nod to discretion, the blight-born’s shadow melded into obscurity, affording the royals a veil of secrecy for their discourse. He mused, almost with amusement, on the ghostly quietude of his movements.

Blight-born or not, he’d often been told that he was too quiet for his own good.

The cloak of night draped over the village, its early morning whispers fading into a serene hush. Orion’s contemplative gaze lifted to the celestial canvas stretched above, his lips etched with a faint furrow. The stars, strewn like jewels upon the heavens’ expanse, shimmered dimly, a mere reflection of the absent sun’s radiance. A wistful ache touched him at the sight, a longing for the sun’s warmth and splendour that his cursed lineage permitted only in small doses—a cruel jest for one who once basked in its luminous embrace.

Abruptly, the silent waltz of snowflakes began their descent, a graceful cascade of white veiling the nocturnal landscape. They fell, defying the impending winter’s severity, each flake a hushed harbinger of the shifting seasons. Orion observed their accumulation on the earth, a pristine shroud cloaking the world in innocence. Extending his hand, he watched the frosty grains settle upon his palm—one, then another, a gathering of cold kisses.

The snow was anathema to him—the chill, the pallor, it all stirred a yearning for the warmth of a home now beyond his reach.

Yet, as Orion beheld the prince’s unguarded marvel at the snow’s first dance, a subdued smile found its way to his lips. For Flynn, the snowflakes were an impermanent enchantment, a respite from the weight of sovereignty. But for Orion, they signified more—a poignant memento of time’s relentless march and the looming duties that beckoned him as both sage and sentinel. Watching the prince’s childlike awe, Orion felt a twinge of nostalgic sorrow for lost naivete, tempered by the sobering recognition of the trials that awaited. In that brief interlude, however, he discovered comfort in Flynn’s simple pleasure, a testament that within their complex existence, moments of unblemished splendour still flourished. If only they just took the time to look around and take it all in.

Post-entry, Orion reclaimed his post outside the tavern’s inviting radiance, his back to the wall, arms folded in silent vigil. His form, a pale wraith against the village’s backdrop, stood as an unspoken oath of protection. His keen gaze swept the vicinity with an eagle’s acuity, noting each transient figure, the rustling of the breeze, and the rhythmic sway of the tavern’s sign because of it. He acknowledged passersby with a nod, eyes briefly closing as memories beckoned, yet his vigilance remained unbroken—a guardian ever watchful, ever-present.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

The cabin's interior was a symphony of silence, punctuated only by the whisper of Elara's movements as she meticulously executed her usual duties within Princess Octavia's chambers. The Princess's absence had draped a cloak of solitude over Elara, offering her a rare chance to work uninterrupted, her focus sharpened by the quietude. Each step she took was measured, each task performed with a reverence befitting the royal surroundings. The stillness was not emptiness but a canvas for her devotion, allowing her to pour her entire being into the service of her mistress.

In the calm that enveloped the cabin, Elara seized the moment to brace for the coming winter. Her initial task was a thorough inspection of the Princess's wardrobe, a treasure trove of rich textiles. She plunged into the depths of luxurious fabrics, her fingers selecting the most robust cloaks and the softest shawls, each destined to fend off the biting cold. With meticulous care, she examined every garment, mending even the smallest flaws, ensuring that the Princess would be wrapped in nothing but perfection.

Elara's attention then turned to the living quarters, where she acted as the guardian against the frost's advance. She stocked the fireplace with ample firewood, arranged in a precise order, ready to ignite and spread warmth throughout the room. The windows, too, were secured under her watchful eye, fortified to resist the creeping drafts that sought entry. Her scrutiny extended to every corner, every crevice, vigilant for any sign of disrepair that might betray the sanctity of the Princess's haven.

Amidst her labours, Elara's mind wandered to the conversation she had shared with Octavia. She remembered the Princess's heartfelt request for assistance in preparing for the harshness of winter, and this memory spurred Elara into action. The potential delay in the arrival of necessary supplies added a layer of urgency to her mission, fueling her determination to find a solution swiftly and efficiently.

"I shall begin my search at the heart of our community," Elara whispered to herself, the weight of her duty anchoring her resolve. She envisioned the settlement, a mosaic of faces and skills, certain that within its bounds, she would find those capable of weaving and stitching the needed warmth for the cold season. The possibility of discovering untapped talent among the newcomers was also a hopeful thought that brightened her spirit.

A small, optimistic smile played upon Elara's lips as she pictured the lively marketplace, a hub of activity and potential. The challenge of identifying the skilled individuals required for her task was daunting, yet she was ready to commit herself fully to the endeavour. Her dedication was unwavering, driven by the desire to alleviate some of the pressures resting on Octavia's royal shoulders.

With determination propelling her forward, Elara stepped out from the protective embrace of Princess Octavia's chambers. Her heart was buoyant with the anticipation of meeting the settlement's new inhabitants, each a stranger from lands she had yet to traverse.

♆ ​🇴​​🇨​​🇪​​🇦​​🇳​​🇺​​🇸​ ​🇭​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​ | 🇼​​🇦​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇷​​🇺​​🇳​​🇳​​🇪​​🇷​​🇸​

_{Interacts with: Kassandra-@Vicier}

---

The gentle strains of classical music wafted through the snug living room, creating a serene backdrop as Jordan “Jae” Ellis applied the finishing touches to their latest work of art. The living room had been their haven today, a place where creativity could be seen blossoming amidst the comforting embrace of freshly brewed coffee’s aroma and the subtle scent of oil paints. Shafts of sunlight streamed in, bathing the room in a warm, golden light and illuminating the art supplies that lay in a seemingly haphazard arrangement that only Jae could decipher. Easels, canvases, and jars brimming with brushes were strategically placed, and the walls served as a gallery of Jae’s completed works, each containing its own unique story or message.

At the kitchen table, Andrea Ellis, Jae’s mother, was immersed in grading her elementary school students’ art projects. She looked up, her face lighting up with a tender smile as she observed her daughter, lost in the flow of creation. “That piece is turning out to be extraordinary, Jae. I’m looking forward to seeing the final result,” she remarked, her voice rich with pride and affection. Andrea’s steadfast support had always been a pillar of strength in Jae’s life, and her profound grasp of Jae’s artistic fervour had forged an indomitable connection between them.

One Jae hoped that would never break. They only had each other, after all.

Jae paused, their smile radiant as they met their mother’s gaze. “Thanks, Mom. It’s nearly complete—just a bit more refinement needed.” After wiping their hands on a rag stained with the history of many colours, Jae ambled towards the kitchen for a well-deserved coffee break. Along the way, a tabby cat named Picasso danced around their feet, purring with satisfaction. A thoughtful present from Andrea on Jae’s fifteenth birthday, Picasso had become an ever-present muse during nocturnal drawing marathons, influencing many of Jae’s creations.

“Picasso seems quite taken with it,” Andrea said with a light laugh, her eyes following the playful cat. “Looking forward to the party tonight?” she inquired, her eyes twinkling with anticipation, aware of how much Jae cherished hanging out with her classmates—precious interludes that would grow rarer as the final year of school approached, heralding new duties and the poignant threshold of graduation.

Jae nodded, the warmth of the coffee seeping into their being. “Absolutely. It’s going to be great connecting with everyone before the whirlwind of senior year catches us.” While speaking, Jae’s gaze swept over the living room, mentally cataloging any items they might need for the evening. The notion of showing up with their arms swinging just didn’t sound right to them. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to call Kass and ask, Jae figured.

Andrea’s expression softened with maternal pride as she watched Jae. “You’ve always been so dedicated, dear…but sometimes it’s ok to try other things. And no I don’t mean other projects.” she advised softly, “Life isn’t solely about the art you produce, but also the memories you forge and the companionship you enjoy along the way.”

Glancing at their watch, Jae acknowledged the wisdom behind their mother’s words with a small smile. This was not the first time they’d talked about this but Jae knew it was best not to push it. Not unless they wanted to be here all evening. “You’re right, as always. I should head out soon though—I’ll probably need to stop by the store on the way.”

Andrea’s nod was filled with a blend of pride and maternal care. “Ever the planner—that’s my Jae. Try to enjoy yourself tonight though, and stay safe.”

With a swift, heartfelt hug, Jae absorbed the comfort of Andrea’s embrace. “I appreciate it, Mom. I’ll be fine.” They picked up their trusty canvas bag, tucking their sketchbook inside, and headed for the door. Picasso issued a soft farewell meow as Jae stooped for a brief ear scratch. “Take care, Picasso. Behave yourself.”

Securing the front door behind them, Jae retrieved their phone, thumbing through the contacts for a number that had remained unused until now—for reasons other than this.

“Hey…” Jae’s voice wavered slightly, a mix of hesitation and anticipation colouring their tone. Kassandra had been a reliable friend in academic endeavours, but this was uncharted territory. “I was wondering… would you like me to bring anything along? I’m happy to stop by the store on my way.”