Qia

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.056: Running in Heels

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_{Interaction(s): Lorcán @Lord Wraith}

Previously: Crushed Petals

Harper moved carefully through the crowd, her eyes sweeping over the room in search of Cass. All the while, she did her best to avoid tripping over people’s feet, including her own, cursing herself for not packing extra shoes. Her heels, though elegant, were far from practical, and each misstep felt like a reminder of her own anxiety—about tonight, about everything. The fabric of her dress swirled lightly around her legs as she maneuvered through the throng of students, trying to appear a lot more graceful than she felt.

Glancing up at the mezzanine for a brief moment, her sharp gaze landed on Amma, who stood like a sentinel above the crowd. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulder like a waterfall, glossy and dark against the dim lighting from above, making her stand out as she always seemed to. From up high, Harper imagined Amma could see everything, taking it all in with that same inscrutable expression she often wore. It was as if she existed in the scene but was distanced from it, like the moon casting its serene gaze over the night while Harper, in comparison, was the sun—brilliant, vibrant, and ever-present in the midst of it all.

Though their eyes didn’t meet, the raven-haired figure exuded a commanding and untouchable presence, as though she existed in another world entirely. Poised but distant, she was part of the crowd yet somehow apart from it, her thoughts likely drifting far beyond the dance floor. Harper wondered what might be occupying her mind. Amma’s stillness was intriguing, as if she carried a weight larger than any of them could comprehend—a secret burden that remained elusive.

Well…not so secret anymore. And yet, Harper wouldn’t be surprised if there were still layers she remained unaware of.

For a moment, the brunette felt the temptation to go to her, to close the distance between them and ask what she was thinking or perhaps just share another quiet moment away from everything. The urge was almost palpable, a magnetic pull that made her heart skip, protesting against the opposing movement of her feet as they carried her away from the stairs. But something held her back, a nagging sense that Amma might not be so easily reached tonight—not in the way Harper would want. The invisible barrier between them felt thicker than usual, a wall of unshared thoughts and unspoken words.

Instead, Harper let the idea pass, swallowing it like so many other unsaid things between the two of them. Maybe it was better this way, she reasoned. Amma had her own world to navigate, just like she did, and maybe tonight wasn’t the night to cross those lines. There were already too many tangled threads to deal with, too many emotions waiting to unravel at the wrong touch.

She dropped her gaze and slipped along the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the thinning crowd. The music thumped in her ears, the bass vibrating through her chest, but Harper only half-listened. She hummed along to it despite not recognizing the tune being played, her mind elsewhere. Cass wasn’t likely to be lost in the thick of things—for whatever reason, she just didn’t get that impression from him. He was probably somewhere on the periphery, just like her, keeping out of the frenzy at the center.
If that was true, they’d have that in common at least—this shared tendency to avoid the spotlight while keeping a careful distance from everyone else. Maybe it was time to figure out where exactly he’d slipped off to, and maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late to salvage something from the evening so far.

As she moved along the edge of the dance floor, Harper’s gaze fell upon a familiar figure standing near the periphery. It was Lorcán, his presence unmistakable even from a distance. He stood slightly apart from the main throng of dancers, his posture relaxed yet alert, as if he were waiting for something—or someone—specific.

A small wave of relief washed over her. At least she wouldn’t have to search far for someone she knew. Harper adjusted her path, weaving through the remaining clusters of people with a renewed sense of purpose. Each step felt lighter, her earlier hesitation melting away as she neared him. It wasn’t until she was almost upon him that she remembered the last time she had seen Lorcán. It had been during the trials, when his quick thinking had snapped her out of her own suffocating thoughts. She could still feel the pressure in her chest from that moment when the heaviness of it all had threatened to crush her—just before Lorcán had been the one to steady her.

And then he’d been the one to fall in the end.

A picture of him lying in the hospital bed, pale and unmoving, flashed through her mind, giving her pause. It was still surreal to think that he’d nearly died—after everything they’d gone through, that part had never quite settled in. But this was Lorcán. He was alive. Standing there, looking like he had already conquered half the night with that effortless air of confidence he carried.

She had nothing to be nervous about.

As she drew closer, the sound of the crowd seemed to fade. The edge of the dance floor provided some reprieve from the noise, and now that she was standing just a few feet away, Harper let herself take in the full sight of him. His outfit, all sharp lines and baby-blue tailoring, was a striking contrast to the chaotic energy around them. Somehow, even after everything that had happened, Lorcán had the ability to make the world seem calmer. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Damn, Lorcán. Are you here to dance or just to make the rest of us look underdressed?” Harper teased. It felt good to joke, to ease into something she was used to—even if it was just for now. The sandy-haired young man spun around, a slight look of surprise crossing his face. Harper watched his eyes trace her figure, a confused look on his face until recognition finally set in.

Lorcán's cheeks burned for a quick sudden, flushing as red as Harper's dress before he spoke.

“Thanks, Paddlepuss, you look good too,” He replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “I barely recognized you all gussied up, you just missed Cass,” He added.

Harper wasn’t used to being looked at like that—not by him or anyone, really. If they had before, she’d been too wrapped up in her own world to notice. But now, standing there in a red dress far outside her usual comfort zone, the way he looked at her felt… different. His gaze was intense, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time, making her acutely aware of every inch of fabric clinging to her skin. That’s when she remembered the haircut, courtesy of one Calliope. She imagined she seemed almost like an entirely different person.

Mirroring Lorcán’s reaction with a sheepish smile of her own, Harper allowed a small pout to replace it at the mention of Cass’s departure.

“Oh, really?” she said, crossing her arms in a gesture that was half defensive, half playful. “Did he say where he was going?” As the words left her mouth, a twinge of apprehension settled in. She wondered if Cass had been looking for her—if he’d been searching for some sign of her in the crowd. The thought made her shift slightly, her eyes darting around the dance floor as if she might spot him in the sea of faces. She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check, as she fixed her gaze on Lorcán again.

The taller boy shifted under her gaze, his burning eyes not oblivious to the way she was looking at him and a sheepish smirk remained plastered on his lips as Lorcán puffed his chest a little suddenly feeling very confident in the baby blue suit he wore.

“It's Cass,” Lorcán answered wryly, “He's totally off to pick a fight, though his last words were to ensure you like saw, so I guess I'm doing my part here.” His eyes gave Harper another once over. It had only been a few weeks seeing everyone without uniforms, but now seeing Harper dressed to the nines, it made Lorcán feel like he was truly seeing her for the first time.

“Shame you weren't put in Canis, red is your colour, brah,” He added playfully while admiring the fit of her dress again.

Harper blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his compliment. The unexpected praise made her cheeks warm, a sensation she wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with. Then, at the mention of what Cass was up to, a flicker of irritation crossed her face—just a flash—before she masked it behind a tight-lipped smirk. Cass was off picking a fight. Of course, he was. More than likely, he had his reasons. She told herself that, repeated it like a mantra. Cass wasn’t careless. He didn’t give her that impression, at least. Still, the news stung, a sharp pinprick to the evening she’d imagined. She had hoped for something… different. Something that reflected this new version of herself, standing here in a dress she wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing a few months ago.

No expectations, remember? she reminded herself, trying to quell the disappointment bubbling up. But even as she tried to shake it off, a bit of it remained, stubborn and insistent, buried beneath the surface. Just once—just this one night, she had wanted things to go her way. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the present moment, on Lorcán standing before her with his calm, reassuring presence. Maybe the night wasn’t lost yet; maybe it just needed a different kind of beginning.

"Thanks for the heads-up," Harper said, trying to keep things casual. “And the compliment. You clean up pretty well yourself.” The words came out easily, but her mind had already shifted. Cass. Wildcard. It was always the wildcards. Reluctantly, she knew she’d go after him—because of course, she would. “Which way?” she asked.

His eyes went wide as a plate of sliders went by, immediately distracting Lorcán from the matter at hand. The girl in the red dress was quickly forgotten as the smell of beef and melted cheese tempted Lorcán away. Pausing, he gestured in the other direction before speaking.

“I think he headed that way,” The molten-eyed boy responded, “Can you take this?” He asked gesturing to Cass' blazer hanging off his arm.

“He left it with me, but it's probably better with you.”

Harper blinked at the sudden shift in Lorcán’s attention, the distraction from Cass’s whereabouts catching her off guard. She followed his gaze to the plate of sliders, the corner of her lips twitching in amusement. Typical Lorcán, always finding the silver lining—or in this case, the snack. Still, his ability to move on so easily while she was still tangled up in the night’s events was endearing in a weird way. Taking the jacket, Harper felt the fabric between her fingers, heavier than expected. There was something about holding onto Cass’s blazer, something symbolic in a way that made her stomach flip. Like she was holding onto a piece of him while he was off doing who-knew-what.

She sighed softly, and with a final thanks, Harper turned her attention back to the crowd. The thought of chasing after Cass felt like a familiar song playing in the background of her mind—she knew the rhythm, the beats, the inevitable pull of his unpredictability. But something in her hesitated. Maybe it was the dress, maybe it was the weight of the jacket in her hand, or maybe it was the fact that, for once, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run after someone again. It was always the wildcards that caught her, drew her in—just like Cass was doing now, even without trying.

But tonight? Maybe tonight was the night she let herself breathe.

She straightened her posture, tossing one more look over her shoulder at Lorcán before setting off. This time, Harper wasn’t sure if she’d follow Cass’s trail. Maybe she’d take her time, wander the edges a bit longer, and figure out where she really wanted to go. The night was still young, and for once, she felt like she had the freedom to truly choose her own path.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

hey just to let you know. I'm out of the country till Wednesday, so should be able to post by then :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Interactions: Cass-@Lu}

---

As Cassandra spoke, Elara listened intently, her senses attuned to the subtle nuances in Cassandra’s voice. “Is this common?” Cassandra asked, her red eye scanning the stage, the guards, and the crowd.

Elara nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing to provide a comprehensive answer that would satisfy Cassandra’s curiosity. “Royal announcements like this aren’t everyday occurrences,” she began, choosing her words with care to convey the gravity of the situation. “But they do happen from time to time, especially when there’s significant news or events that affect both the Aurelian and Lunarian people.” And boy, was there an announcement to be had today. The crowd’s murmurs and the guards’ stoic presence underscored the importance of the moment, adding layers of meaning to what little explanation she gave, making the air feel thick with anticipation.

Elara could sense Cassandra’s unease around the guards, the tension in her posture and the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She understood all too well how their imposing presence could be intimidating, especially to someone not accustomed to such displays of authority. The guards, with their stern expressions and vigilant stances, were a necessary but often unsettling part of these gatherings. Though, there was a small sense of irony in that Cassandra might be considered one of those threats given her blightborn nature.

When Cassandra mentioned her skills as a seamstress, Elara’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “A seamstress, you say?” she echoed, her mind already envisioning the possibilities. “I believe there could be a need for your skills here.” The town was always bustling with activity, a vibrant hub where new arrivals often brought fresh opportunities and unique talents. Elara was certain that Cassandra could find a place where her talents would be not only appreciated but celebrated.

Elara offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease any lingering doubts Cassandra might have. “If you’d like, I can introduce you to some of the local merchants and craftsmen I know,” she suggested, her tone warm and inviting. She knew that these connections could be invaluable, providing Cassandra with the support and resources she needed to get started. “They might be able to help you settle in and find the materials you need.”

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

A

_{Interactions: Val-@Herald}

---

A’s attack had been successful, a surge of triumph coursing through her veins. The man holding her cried out in pain, his grip loosening as he clutched his head in agony. She seized the moment, her heart pounding as she slipped from his grasp. The heavy dust cloud enveloped him, giving her the perfect cover to evade the rest of Vin’s men. All the while, blood trickled from her nose, a small price to pay for her newfound freedom.

The dust cloud was so thick it felt like a suffocating blanket, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. A activated her hematic rebreather mask, the device whirring softly as it filtered out the worst of the dust, allowing her to breathe more easily. The sounds of shouting and gunfire were muffled, creating an eerie, disorienting atmosphere that made her skin crawl. Every step felt like a gamble, her every sense on high alert.

Stay calm, A reminded herself, the mantra a lifeline in the chaos, keeping her focused. She needed to find VV and D, but the swirling dust made it nearly impossible to see anything clearly. She closed her eyes for a moment, relying on her Blood Sense, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of hearts around her, trying to distinguish friend from foe. Each heartbeat was a beacon, a clue in the disorienting haze.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence close by, a heartbeat strong and steady. A turned, squinting through the dense dust, and collided with a solid figure, the impact jarring her slightly and sending a shockwave through her body. Instinctively, she stepped back, muscles tensing, ready to defend herself if necessary. She watched as he held a finger to his lips for silence, then threw a wink her way, a surprising gesture considering their situation. The message was clear, though: at least for now, he could be trusted. Additionally, considering she was still standing and unharmed, A took this as a cautiously optimistic sign.

A nodded her head in acknowledgment, her eyes never leaving his, keeping close to the man but maintaining a defensive stance. Trust was a fragile thing in these circumstances, but she had little choice but to follow his lead.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.047: Crushed Petals

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_{Interaction(s): Emily-(No longer insignificant)}

Previously: Between Shadows and Light

The cool night breeze teased the edges of Harper’s dress, each gust sending a shiver of anticipation through her. With every step, the soft fabric shifted, heightening her excitement. The fitted bodice hugged her frame, accentuating her curves in a way that felt both empowering and surreal, as if she were walking in a dream. The gown's rich red hue shimmered under the moonlight, casting a warm glow against her skin, making her feel like the dress had been crafted just for her. Each stride set the ruffled layers of the mermaid-style skirt fluttering around her legs, creating the illusion that she was gliding effortlessly down the pathway—a vision of elegance and grace.

In her hand, Harper held the small boutonniere meant for Cass, its delicate white bloom starkly contrasting her dress's deep red. She glanced down at the flower nestled in her palm, its soft petals like a fragile promise she wasn’t entirely sure how to keep. It felt like a symbol of something more—something unspoken, but undeniably significant. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as her thoughts drifted to the evening ahead, the uncertainty of what would come weighing on her mind. She wondered how Cass would react when she finally handed it to him.

Was it all, perhaps, a bit too much for them?

Harper’s fingers tightened around the boutonniere as her mind raced with what-ifs. Would Cass make a joke to ease her obvious anxiety, or would he be sincere, understanding the depth of the gesture? She wasn’t sure if he was the kind of person to read her so well and respond in just the right way. Even she didn’t know what reaction she was hoping for—torn between wanting to laugh off the nervousness and craving a moment of genuine connection. The only thing Harper knew without a doubt was that everything had felt so much easier before the trials, before her world had been turned upside down. When her biggest worries, though not trivial, weren’t as all-consuming.

She wondered if Cass felt the same, if he too longed for the days when things were simpler. Did he miss the times when she was just a girl keeping him company around a campfire, their voices mingling with the crackling flames? Back then, the only expectation was whether she could truly keep up with him on the dancefloor, their worries as fleeting as the night itself. Harper glanced down at the flower, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

This wasn’t her at all—this feeling of being boxed in by other people’s assumptions of her. Harper had always prided herself on being free-spirited within the boundaries of her disciplined nature, unbound by the constraints others tried to impose. Yet here she was, holding a symbol of something she wasn’t sure she believed in—a fragile bloom that seemed to mock her independence. It felt like a betrayal of who she was, a concession to the pressures that had been slowly mounting around her.

As Harper walked down the dimly lit pathway, the fluttering of her skirt and the soft breeze were her only companions. Lost in thought, she barely noticed the figure approaching from the opposite direction. It wasn’t until they were almost side by side that the person’s presence registered, the faint shuffle of shoes on the pavement catching her attention. The sound was like a ripple in a still pond, breaking through the surface of her reverie.

Attempt #2: Work in Progress

“Harper Baxter?”

The voice was familiar, but not enough to place instantly. Harper slowed her pace and glanced up, blinking in mild confusion as she took in the girl standing before her. Tall, with strawberry blonde hair and sharp features softened by a pair of glasses, the girl’s curious eyes seemed to scan her, causing the brunette to rub at her arms self-consciously. The scrutiny made her feel exposed, as if the girl could see right through her. Harper searched her mind, trying to recall the face, but the details of when they might have met felt annoyingly vague, like a name on the tip of her tongue.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Harper replied, her tone polite but uncertain. She tried to muster a smile, but it felt forced, not quite reaching her eyes. The girl gave a smile in response, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes either, a guardedness lingering in her expression. There was something about her, a hint of wariness that Harper couldn’t quite decipher, making her feel even more uneasy. It made her wonder what the girl saw when she looked at her, what judgments or assumptions were being made behind those curious eyes.

“You don’t remember what I look like, either?” the tall girl asked, her head shaking in what appeared like disbelief. Harper frowned, feeling a flicker of unease at the girl’s question. The way she said it, as if Harper should have known her immediately, gnawed at her, creating a knot of anxiety in her chest. She pursed her lips, her finger coming to tap on her chin as she searched her memory.

“A...melia?” she attempted,sudden recognition causing her eyes to widen and a blush to work its way up her neck. “Wait no, Emily! That’s it.” Emily’s brows arched somewhat, her surprise evident, and Harper felt a small surge of triumph at getting it right.

“Yeah, you got it,” Emily said, but there was a pause, a mix of emotions crossing her face—relief, perhaps, but something else lingered, something Harper couldn’t quite place until she spoke again. The blonde crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “Guess I didn’t make much of an impression both times, huh?”

Harper winced at the comment, the slight sting of guilt tightening in her stomach like a vice. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she quickly replied, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I’ve just been… distracted.” The words felt inadequate, a flimsy excuse for the way she had been back then.

Emily’s expression didn’t fully soften, but the guarded edge dulled a little, a small concession that Harper clung to. “Yeah, I guess we all have our stuff going on sometimes,” Emily replied, her tone carrying a hint of understanding, though it was clear the hurt was still there. There was a brief, awkward silence after this. Harper glanced away, feeling the cool breeze lift a few strands of her hair, wondering how to salvage the conversation. She hated moments like this—where past mistakes loomed, forcing her to confront things she’d rather leave behind. It had happened too many times this year already, each instance a reminder of how much she had lost and how far she still had to go.

“Look, Emily,” Harper finally said, meeting her gaze again. “I know I wasn’t exactly fair to you back then. I said some things that were… harsh. And I’m sorry for that.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I just—” she hesitated, the memories of her past struggles flooding back, “I was in a bad place.” She hadn’t yet grown close to anyone, which left a more guarded, more difficult-to-approach version of herself. With no real friends to lean on, Harper had relied on her sharp edges, her biting words, to protect herself.

Emily, unfortunately, had just been one of the ones in the line of fire.

Emily’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of old hurt crossing her face. “Yeah, I remember all that shit,” she said, her voice quieter now, but laced with a bitterness Harper couldn’t ignore. “It wasn’t just what you said, though. It was how… distant you were. Like, none of us even mattered.”

Harper winced inwardly. She had been distant, she knew that now. Detached from everyone around her, she had half-ignored their attempts to connect, pushing through any work given to her as if it were a solo effort. People had just been faces in the background to her, names she hadn’t bothered to remember because, in her mind, they weren’t relevant in the big picture. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need anyone’s help or friendship, accepting Aurora’s only begrudgingly at the time.

Emily crossed her arms. “So, what? Now that things are better, you’re suddenly all friendly?”

Another silence stretched between them, Harper unsure of how to answer the other’s question. She glanced down at the boutonniere still clutched in her hand, its petals now slightly crumpled from her earlier grip. The once pristine bloom now looked as frazzled as she felt—an unintended casualty of her restless thoughts. She loosened her fingers around it, hoping to salvage what was left.

“Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Harper said eventually, her voice steadier now, more resolved. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And that I’m trying to change. Be…better.”

Emily’s gaze stayed on Harper, her posture still closed off, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Harper waited all the while, unsure of what else to say, her heart pounding in the silence. She didn’t expect a full reconciliation, but she had hoped for something—a sign that her apology had landed somewhere other than the void between them.

Emily finally sighed, shaking her head, the movement slow and deliberate. “People don’t change overnight, Baxter,” she muttered, her tone neither forgiving nor harsh, but somewhere in between. Harper nodded, the full weight of those words settling somewhere in her heart like a heavy stone.

“I know.”

For a brief moment, Emily just looked at her, as if debating whether to say more. Her eyes searched Harper’s face, perhaps looking for signs of sincerity or change. Then, without another word, she shifted on her heels and continued down the path, her shoes clicking softly against the pavement. As she passed by, she glanced back over her shoulder and offered a tiny, almost dismissive compliment. “Well…at least the dress is nice.” Her tone was neutral, devoid of the warmth Harper might have hoped for. It wasn’t forgiveness, not by a long shot. But maybe it wasn’t a full rejection either.

As Emily walked past, Harper stood still, her fingers brushing the now-wilted edges of the boutonniere. Then, her heels clicked softly against the pavement as she resumed her walk, the soft hum of music and distant chatter drifting through the air as she neared the A.R.C.

---

Jesus Calliope…if only you were here to see your hard work pay off.

The red carpeted pathway before her was flanked by gold posts and velour ropes, creating an illusion of grandeur that sent a wave of nervousness through her. The opulence of the scene felt almost surreal, the simplicity she’d grown accustomed to over the years not present in the slightest. The rich colors and textures seemed to mock her, reminding her of how far she had come and how much she had changed. Taking out her phone, Harper snapped a quick photo of the scene, the flash momentarily illuminating the lavish surroundings. She attached it to a message to the blonde in her thoughts, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed: You’re greatly appreciated and sincerely missed. I hope things are going better on your end with your family…and your brother.

She hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen. ​​Calliope had been a source of strength and comfort during one of the darkest periods of her life. Perhaps that was why Harper was not surprised to realize just how much she missed her friend, the absence more profound than she could have ever expressed. She pressed send, watching as the message disappeared into the ether, a silent prayer that Calliope would feel her gratitude and longing wherever she was.

As Harper prepared to enter the venue, something made her pause in her movement, an involuntary smile sweeping across her lips at the sight before her. It was three figures, each one seeming to embody a different emotion in the sea of celebrants, creating a tableau that captured her attention. While one of the boys wore an expression that hinted at a weariness with the evening’s festivities, his slouched posture and tired eyes betraying his fatigue, the enthusiasm from the other two was contagious even from afar. The female of the group twirled and danced around with a lightness that suggested not even gravity could hold her down, her cream silk gown shimmering as she moved, catching the light in a way that made her look almost ethereal. Her face lit up with a playful expression that, for whatever reason, brought Haven to mind, her last words coming back to her about just enjoying the night.

Because that’s what was most important, right? Just enjoying the evening as much as these three seemed to be.

With a deep breath, Harper straightened her posture, shaking off the heaviness that had found its way on her shoulders. She looked down at the boutonniere she was holding for Cass, its slightly crumpled state the only evidence of the war of conflicting emotions within her. Her fingers traced the delicate edges of the flower, the weight of her feelings slowly dissipating as she looked around at the vibrant energy of the dance floor, the music and laughter creating a lively backdrop. Harper navigated through the bustling crowd towards a quieter corner of the room, seeking a moment of familiar solitude.

The elegant, Hollywood-themed décor framed the space, with centerpieces adorned with white feathers casting a soft glow over the tables. She found a secluded table near the edge of the dance floor, partially obscured by the shadows of the towering centerpieces. The dim lighting and the soft hum of conversation created a cocoon of privacy, allowing her a brief respite from the festivities. Gently, she placed the boutonniere on the table, arranging it with care, as if setting down a piece of her heart.

Stepping back, Harper gave it a final, contemplative glance before turning and walking back into the heart of the celebration, fully intending on finding her date for the evening.

Except this time with different motivations.

No expectations. No pretenses.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@Estylwen Sure thing :) I'll try to remember at least haha xD

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Should be able to get a post out on Friday :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Interactions: Cass-@Lu}

---

Elara turned at the sound of the hesitant voice, her silver hair catching the light and shimmering like moonbeams as she faced the newcomer. The woman before her seemed nervous, her hands fidgeting incessantly, and her eyes darting around the crowd as if seeking an escape. Elara’s heart softened at the sight, and she offered a gentle smile, hoping to put the blightborn woman at ease. It didn’t matter to her that her appearance was so…strange. If anything, the silver-haired woman, like with Pleiades, was more curious than nervous.

As Elara really took in the sight of Cassandra, she couldn’t help but be struck by her distinctive appearance. The mushroom-like features and delicate quality of her skin marked her unmistakably as a blightborn. This was only her third encounter with one like this, and each one had been strikingly different, leaving an indelible impression on her. The red and white mushroom cap that adorned Cassandra’s head, the patchy-looking skin that seemed almost translucent, and the serene expression on her face all added to her otherworldly and contrasting presence.

“Hello, Cassandra or Cass,” Elara greeted, an airy laugh slipping between her lips like a soft breeze, “I’m Elara.” She tilted her head to the side, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder in a shimmering waterfall as she pursed her lips thoughtfully. The name felt familiar on her tongue, as if she had known Cassandra for ages, even though they had just met. She wondered, briefly, what the mushrooms had to do with Cassandra’s abilities, her mind swirling with possibilities. The red and white mushroom cap atop her head seemed almost regal, afterall, a crown of nature’s own design.

“There’s supposed to be an announcement today by the royal family,” Elara continued. “They should be here any minute now.”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

The waning gibbous moon clung stubbornly to the horizon, its pale light barely piercing the thick shroud of clouds. Elara stood off to the side of the slowly building crowd in the town square, the crisp morning air nipping at her cheeks like playful sprites. A gentle breeze whispered secrets through the trees, making the leaves dance and carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread from the inn. It was 10 am, yet the sky held a twilight hue, casting an ethereal glow over the gathered townspeople. She watched their breath, little puffs of mist in the cool air, as they murmured in anticipation.

Elara’s heart quickened, each beat resonating with the palpable excitement that buzzed around her. She clutched her cloak tighter, knowing that the biggest announcement was already a whisper her ears had heard before yet still…still she couldn’t quite believe everything she’d been told.

Elara’s heart ached with worry for her princess. Since returning from her walk earlier that morning, she hadn’t managed to speak with her, the cabin unusually empty. If she were honest, it was also because she had buried herself in her duties as a handmaiden, a convenient distraction from the gnawing guilt that had consumed her still. She’d busied herself with the familiar tasks—polishing the silver, arranging the princess’s gowns, and tending to the hearth—each action a small comfort in its routine. But beneath the surface, the guilt still churned within her mind.

The guilt had only dulled a little later, thanks to remembering Sunni’s words. A small smile had almost naturally appeared on her lips at the time. Even now, as she stood beside the crowd, the same smile crept onto her face, unbidden. She could almost hear Sunni’s voice, weaving the tale of Enu, the resilient desert fox, and the wisdom imparted by the tortoise. The memory was a balm, soothing the edges of her worry.

But now was not the time for reminiscing. Elara shook her head, dispelling the warmth of the memory. Her gaze shifted, refocusing on the awaiting stage as she prepared herself for whatever lay ahead.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Myotis Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.038: Gulls Just Wanna Have Fun

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_{Interaction(s): Haven-@Skai, Aurora @Melissa, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Infallible

This was the most awkward they had ever been.

Harper kept her eyes forward, her steps measured as she and Haven walked side by side toward Aurora’s dorm. The silence between them felt thicker than usual, with each footstep punctuating the tension. Occasionally, the brunette glanced at Haven from the corner of her eye, wondering if she felt the same heavy cloud hanging over them. The air seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. Despite the quiet, their unspoken thoughts seemed to echo loudly in the space between them.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They had shared countless sweet moments, filled with easy chatter and comfortable silences. But now, after what had happened with Sierra earlier, Harper felt the weight of everything she didn’t say—everything she couldn’t say—like a boulder pressing down on her chest. The liquid courage in her hand wasn’t helping much either. Each sip of the drink only served to magnify the silence, making the unstated words in her head feel leaden.

As they neared Aurora’s door, Harper’s eyes drifted downward, settling on the red dress draped over her other arm, protected by a layer of plastic. The vibrant fabric was smooth and elegant, its striking red colour a sharp contrast to her current feelings. Each step brought her closer to the moment she dreaded—the moment she would have to put on this dress and face everyone. It was meant to make her stand out, to command attention at the dance, a role she’d never felt comfortable in. It felt like an unwanted spotlight she was about to step into, one that would reveal a side of her even she wasn’t familiar with.

Knocking on the door, Harper cleared her throat, forcing a casual tone. “So… I’m guessing Rory’s going to pick you up here after we’re done?” The words felt strange on her tongue, almost foreign, as if she were speaking someone else’s thoughts. It was funny how her mind had grasped that as the necessary topic of conversation, her nosiness a safe harbour to which she always returned. Yet, a part of her was genuinely curious about who Haven was going with, especially given the winged girl’s little escapade with their teammate before the trials. Harper, of course, had not forgotten about it; the memory lingered like a stubborn shadow that would always be a part of her.

“I’m meeting him downstairs,” Haven began with a tone just as casual as her companion’s as she moved into the space beside the door, her shoulder resting against the wall. Her right arm was tucked into her ribs, resting her hand under her left as it adjusted the bag’s strap on her shoulder. She could feel the liquor’s warmth resting in her stomach where her anger had burned earlier, its presence in her bloodstream already working to relax the muscles in her shoulders and back. Her thoughts, once a storm of unspoken questions and fleeting confrontational urges as the pair walked between the dorms, had already quieted into distant thunder in her mind.

There was no sign of tension in her words or body language as she looked into the hazel eyes across from her, yet to the brunette’s keen eyes it was obvious that the usual warmth that radiated from the winged woman was lukewarm at best. A shadow of her usual affection towards someone she once thought to be like a sister to her, even if that familial connection had only been present since they’d carried each other out of the trials.

She smiled, yet the dimples that graced her cheeks hardly left a depression on her skin. “It’s our first date together, but we talked about taking things seriously yesterday before I met with you all.” Before she was discharged from the hospital, even. “So I guess I can say that I’m going with my boyfriend now.” Her smile grew with the words, dimples deepening, her inhibitions melting away as she talked about the dark-haired man who made her heart flutter. “It’s strange saying it out loud, but it feels right.”

As Haven responded, her attempt at normalcy was met with Harper’s mixed emotions. The casual mention of Rory being Haven’s boyfriend felt like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it was a small relief to hear Haven talk about Rory with such genuine affection. On the other hand, it underscored the awkwardness that had settled between them, a chasm that seemed to widen with every passing moment. She couldn’t shake the feeling that their friendship was shifting, and not necessarily for the better.

Harper offered a small, tentative smile, her lips curving up just enough to show she was trying. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling good about it. It’s nice to hear you’re happy.” Her voice was soft, more sincere than it had been moments before, the words carrying genuine emotion. She wanted Haven to know that despite everything, she truly cared about her happiness. “I guess we’ll both have quite the night ahead of us.” There was more she wished to say about this, the only question was how.

Haven’s ears picked up on the shift in Harper’s voice. It was a relief that her own admission had eased some of the other’s worries, enough for Harper to be earnest about one topic this evening at least. Maybe there was hope that they could get over the tension left in Sierra’s wake, with or without the liquor bottle, with conversation that could distract them from it. Plus the phrasing of her words sparked a curiosity within Haven that could easily be quenched. The question being something light and, dare she say it, normal to ask.

“Are you… going with anyone?”

Harper paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air between them. She opened her mouth to respond, but just as the name was about to leave her lips, the door to Aurora’s dorm swung open. The sudden movement startled her, breaking the delicate suspense that had built up with her hesitation.

Bright blue eyes and a warm smile greeted them as Blackjack’s resident redhead finally answered the door, most of her head curled while a few final strands were still in their natural state.

“Sorry, I was just finishing up my hair, come on in,” Aurora greeted, stepping back to allow enough berth for the two girls to enter and closing the door behind them. She opened the hall closet, shifting around the jackets and coats already there to make ample space. “You guys can hang your dresses here until you’re ready to put them on, I also have a steamer if either of you need it,” She instructed before walking into the kitchen area and motioning to the refrigerator, “Help yourself to whatever, there are some drinks on the upper shelf, and you can put your things on the table.” She nodded to the kitchen table where her roommate’s makeup mirrors had been set up for them to use.

“I just need to finish up these last couple of pieces, but make yourselves comfortable,” The redhead quickly walked back to the bathroom, not wanting to leave her curling iron unattended for too long, but left the door open so she could still converse with Haven and Harper. “So girls, are we excited?”

Harper forced a smile as she pondered her reply, her lips curving up in an attempt to mask her disquietude. She didn't dislike the idea of the dance—it was just that everything around it felt overwhelming, like layers of expectation she wasn’t sure she could meet.

“Excited? Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she said, her voice light but lacking genuine enthusiasm. The words felt like they were sliding through her fingers, insubstantial and hollow. “It’s a chance to just relax and enjoy the night, at least,” Harper added regardless, shifting the bottle to the same hand with her dress and moving to hang it in the closet. She turned to glance at Haven, who was still holding onto her dress, and gestured for her to hand it over. “I’ll hang that up for you,” she offered.

“Oh- thanks,” Haven murmured as she turned herself from where she lingered by the doorway. She lifted the satin from her arm as she held it in Harper’s direction, offering a brief, yet grateful smile her way. “I’ll trade you for the bottle.”

Her head turned towards the living space again as she pulled the strap of her duffle off her shoulder, the traded liquor clutched carefully in her free hand. She didn’t waste time moving further into the cozy space, her eyes glancing over each cutesy decoration that Aurora and her roommates had placed to make the dorm feel like a home. It was a stark contrast to the sparse living area that she and her roommates shared, and certainly more feminine than Rory and Lorcán’s dorm.

Her duffle was unceremoniously dumped on a chair at the table, and then the booze was placed next to the mirror as she continued to make herself as comfortable as she could get. “I’m ready to let loose and have some fun tonight, for sure.” She was already opening the door to the fridge as she answered Aurora’s earlier question, inspecting the various drinks set on the top shelf inside. “Is anyone interested in a cocktail, or should we just choose a chaser for ourselves?” Her head ducked below the door for a moment, wings tucking in so that they wouldn’t graze the appliance, before she stood upright with a bottle of juice in her hand. She called out over her wing where it rested itself behind her shoulder once more. “We should at least have one shot together before we go, right? It’s not often we get together like this.”

She stood outside the door, head canted down and to one side, lashes panned low as the murmur of voices fled through the door and fell muffled over her ears. It is such a temporal thing to be a young woman donned on daring golds and blacks, a shimmering vanity in the highlighting of dramatic poise and intention, garbed in the simplicity of wide-legged pants in gray and a cropped blouse of a similar hue that draped to her shoulders. The erratic temper of her emotions flitted to and fro as plumes of scarlet pulsated through the flutter of her lashes, and a storm banked to the fringes of the sea lost within her eyes. Amma held her dress and shoes in one hand, carefully situated over her forearm, and in her opposite gesture, she hoisted a black case, matte black and clasped in brass. Was it even more of a mundane occurrence to be compelled to bring her cosmetics with her and styling tools carefully tucked within? A creature of vanity she was, and never without embellishment of some sort to accentuate her sensual debut, the power of dark lips eternal that bent the knees of men. Amma carefully knocked, knuckles sharp against the wood before it opened upon silence, her gaze quick and pointing, intentional in the pass she made over the girls with an intensity befitting her usual candor.

Haven may have invited her, but did that make her welcome as one of Blackjack's fairer members?

She caught the ending of the former's suggestion, and a slow tremor wound through her limbs as she stepped further into the room, hung her dress where she noticed others had been placed and her heels beneath it, and broke the subtle tension that wound around each of them and said:

"Make it a double. It has already been a long day, and the night is just starting."

Amma’s entrance was simply greeted with a nod from the winged woman as Haven moved from the fridge to search for cups in the cabinets.

“Come on over, then.”

After carefully hanging up Haven’s dress alongside hers, Harper turned her attention to Amma. The gold and black makeup was the first thing she noted. It seemed to transform the other woman, giving her an air of sophistication and mystery, different from before. Harper marvelled at the precision and artistry, each stroke of colour enhancing Amma’s features boldly and beautifully. She felt a pang of envy, wishing she could embody even a fraction of that confidence.

Whether in the shadows or out in the open, Amma’s presence was undeniably captivating.

“I like your eyes,” Harper commented easily, only realizing the awkwardness of her words after they slipped past her lips. As soon as she spoke, a flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “Your makeup…it looks…nice,” she added, trying to recover. Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words to convey her admiration. Yet, despite her efforts, she couldn’t quite shake her old bashfulness.

Amma didn’t hesitate, more so to make herself perhaps a little less threatening and to convince herself to be more at ease, her earlier struggles and sorrows writhing just under her facade, a subtle quake within her fingers as she set her cosmetic case aside and moved closer to Haven. Harper’s voice carefully slid through her ears, fading into the backdrop before Amma turned, a smile easily punctuating her features that was both darling and appreciative. But there was an edge there, a bite to her unspooling words that carried a feral edge.

“Have to make some kind of impression out there on the dance floor,” she gestured vaguely to her eyes, noting the delicate sweeps of black on Harper’s expression, the striking depths of her all-knowing gaze accentuated by the flutter flashes and subtle edges of colors smoked out onto her eyelids. “I like yours too, I brought some of my things just in case.”

“Thanks,”Harper replied, her voice tinged with a hint of appreciation. A blush dotted her cheeks, emphasizing her freckles for a moment. The warmth of the compliment lingered, making her feel a bit more at ease. She cleared her throat to center herself. Then, she headed towards the bathroom where Aurora was finishing up her hair.

Haven had moved with a casual air between the kitchen counter and table as she grabbed the bottle of booze, keeping her focus on the idea of being the bartender as she listened to Harper and Amma speak to each other. The rustling of feathers and soft steps she took was the only sound she made as she allowed the girls to have a moment together.

“What are we shooting, anyways?” Being a known wine drinker, liquor was lost upon her preference, but Amma made herself comfortable, as much as she could to dispel the unease that still bunched her shoulders.

Gold and green peered through brown lashes, looking over the dark-haired woman’s body language as Amma joined her at the kitchen counter. The tension that coiled in the muscles beneath the other’s pale skin was something Haven recognized easily. A reflex that seemed as natural to Amma as it was to Haven herself. Still, her hand stayed busy pouring a generous amount into each cup. She was doing her best to count out the difference between one shot and two, but currently, she figured a little extra wouldn’t hurt. As she finished the second pour she found herself taking a measured breath as she thought of her response.

“I grabbed the first bottle I recognized, really. Something cheap, but not entirely disgusting.” Her hands took each glass into the air, one stretching out in Amma’s direction as she finally turned to peer into those troubled deep blues. The smile that graced her features was empathetic as she held her own glass at eye level in a small toast.

“It might burn going down, but after a few, we won’t even feel it. So cheers.”

The bathroom was filled with the faint scent of hairspray and the gentle hum of the curling iron, creating a soothing backdrop to the evening’s preparations. Harper watched as Aurora expertly twisted the last few sections of her hair around the hot barrel, each curl forming perfectly. The rhythmic motion was almost hypnotic. It provided a small slice of normalcy in an otherwise strange evening thus far.

“Hey, just checking in,” Harper said, knocking on the door’s frame to announce her presence.

Aurora let the final curl drop from the iron, holding it delicately in her hand for a few moments to allow it to set before letting it fall against her back. Examining her hair in the mirror and satisfied with the results, she reached and unplugged the tool, resting it on the granite countertop to cool down. Her sapphire eyes met Harper’s before she motioned to her head.

“Does it look okay?” She asked, before turning back and gazing at her own reflection, inspecting her handiwork. “I can brush them out if we think they’re a bit too tight, but I tried to do something in between.”

Harper studied Aurora’s reflection, admiring the carefully styled curls. Each curl fell perfectly into place, framing Aurora’s face with a soft elegance. There was a wistful quality in the way Aurora examined her own work, as if seeking reassurance from the mirror. Harper understood that feeling all too well-the need for everything to be just right. It often meant second-guessing yourself at every turn, a sentiment Harper knew intimately.

“They look great, Aurora,” Harper assured her with a small, sincere smile. Her words were meant to be a balm, easing the uncertainty she saw in Aurora’s eyes. “The curls are perfect—not too tight, just enough to give you that soft, effortless look.” Harper paused, noticing the way Aurora’s fingers hovered near her hair, ready to make adjustments. “Besides, I think they suit you. It’s… you, but with a little extra something.”

“Okay good, I think I’m going to pin a few pieces back like Tori did yesterday, but I’ll do that before I leave,” She exhaled a sigh of relief and looking back at Harper, she smiled widely, “Thanks, Harps. Now that’s taken care of, time to get myself a drink. God knows I’ll need it,” The redhead expressed candidly, ushering her brunette friend back into the living area and finding herself face-to-face with…

“Amma,” She stated, swallowing, struggling not to be awkward. The raven-haired girl looked devastatingly beautiful, her locks styled effortlessly and her makeup near perfect. Just taking in her appearance made Aurora’s heart sink. No wonder Lorcán wasn’t interested in her when he could have someone like the vixen that currently stood in front of her. It made complete sense.

Amma dragged her fingers against the pout of her lip, a slight twitch to her features with the first shot down, burning away through her throat and lashes fluttering at the taste before her gaze focused and landed on Aurora. They doubled in intensity, an unspoken tremor that flitted through the abyss betwixt them; the last time they had spoken, each had revealed pieces of their hearts that lay pulsating as burdened organs of simplistic wants: to love and be loved in return.

She carefully handed her glass back to Haven, motioning for another because Hell below knew she needed it to smother her emotions under a blanket of blissful, alcohol-induced fog.

The glass was taken quickly, set down on the counter beside Haven’s own empty vessel as her feathers settled. The double shot had packed more of a punch to it than the swigs she’d taken earlier, ruffling the feathers on her wings as she had grimaced with the burning in her throat. She busied herself with finding two more for the others as their generous host rejoined them in the living area, yet her ears listened to the potentially tense moment behind her with subtle interest.

“Aurora,” Amma answered swiftly, her piercing blue eyes flickering down and then back up. “I like what you did with your hair; it suits you.” It was some sort of olive branch extended to dispel that unease as warmth spread down through her limbs.

The tension in the air seemed palpable, but an unspoken understanding also hung between the two girls as a result of their previous interaction. No matter what was, or was not, going on between Amma and Lorcán, Aurora knew that she couldn’t hold it against her. After all, she continued to remind herself, they just wanted the same thing.

“Thank you,” She replied, a small smile gracing her lips, appreciative of the compliment. The girl walked towards the refrigerator, grabbing a seltzer from the top shelf before returning to the center of the common area. “Your eye makeup looks amazing, I don’t think I could ever get mine to look that good.” Aurora had applied light makeup, cosmetics not her strong suit as her learnings were gathered from videos and her roommates. By the time she was old enough to use them, she didn’t have anyone to guide her through the process.

Amma hummed a soft “Thank you,” having turned to face Haven, but not before she mirrored her delicate smile.

“Alright, gorgeous ladies of Blackjack,” Haven gently interrupted the moment as she turned away from her drink station. Her lips curved into a smile that promised mischief as she presented what she carried in front of her. In her hands she cradled shots for each of them, with a double in the glass meant for Amma as requested a second time. She kept her gaze on what she carried to ensure they wouldn’t tip over as she delicately began to move around them.

“It’s been a long week for all of us, and we’re down Calli and Katja, but let’s get the night started right.”

With the ice between Amma and Aurora already thawing with their sweet moment, and despite the words unspoken that still lingered between herself and her brunette friend, Haven was determined to move past any residual uneasiness with a communal drink. She approached each of her friends with a glint in her eyes, placing each shot into their hand whether they wanted it or not. Although she was pretty sure they wanted the social lubrication.

Happy dimples appeared on her cheeks as she returned to her spot at the counter and picked up her own single like Harper and Aurora. It was mindful of her to slow herself down after the double, otherwise she’d be drunk before they left the dorm. “Each of you is going to be stunning in your dress.” She said as she turned to face them all again. The shot remained in her hand as she waited for the others to share in it with her. “Blackjack is going to be the best dressed of the night.”

As Harper accepted the shot from Haven with a small nod, her eyes scanned the room, taking in the intricate dynamics at play. She noticed the thawing awkwardness between Aurora and Amma, the playful determination in Haven’s eyes, and the undercurrent of excitement that buzzed just beneath the surface. The weight of the night ahead was palpable, filled with unsaid expectations that each of them carried. It all gave her the sense that the dance wasn’t just going to be a social event; it was a stage where each of them would have to navigate their own insecurities, desires, and fears.

Or perhaps that was just the alcohol fooling her into believing that this was all a prelude to something significant.

Harper raised her glass, her voice steady and clear as she joined the toast. “To Blackjack,” she declared, her tone carrying both pride and quiet resolve. “No matter what happens tonight, we’ve got each other’s backs. Always.” It might have sounded a little cheesy, but it was no less true given everything they’d been through.

Aurora reluctantly took the glass, cautiously peering at the clear liquor. She hadn’t been planning on taking any shots that evening, after all, she didn’t want to get too drunk and make a fool of herself. But one wouldn’t hurt, right? In fact, it was probably better for her to loosen up and get a little buzz going before she faced what was awaiting her at the dance. So, she raised the glass alongside her friends.

“To Blackjack,” The redhead repeated, “Here’s to us having a fun night, we definitely need it.” Clinking her glass against the others, she tipped her head back, letting the liquid burn down her throat. She coughed out of instinct, quickly chasing the strong taste with the juice, but grimacing nonetheless. Her face contorted, instantly regretting taking the shot, but after a few moments the pain subsided and all was well. Aurora exhaled deeply, setting the empty glass down on the table. “Okay, one and done. I definitely don’t need another.”

Amma’s thoughts are an uncoiling mass with threaded emotions of uncertainty; she almost feels out of place, the liquor burning and sliding down her throat, more manageable than the first, only this time, her facial expressions do not budge. She’s almost inevitable for another with the pleasant flush that sweeps betwixt her ribs and plummets low into her belly; a darling smile—the finest touches of melancholy there—blooms across her face as she mutters, almost as an afterthought.

“To… Blackjack.”

While Harper’s words may have carried on Haven’s plucky spirit in the others, the winged woman herself found them bittersweet. Her eyes cast themselves down onto her glass where she now wished she’d poured that double. The indication that Harper had their backs was made in good spirit, and yet she couldn’t help but remember the way that Harper had defended her visiting friend despite her insulting mannerisms. The glass lifted to her lips quickly before her faltering joy could be noticed, tossing it back to allow the warmth of it to settle her mind once more. She wasn’t going to let one moment get the better of their evening. Especially now that they all seemed to be getting along better than they ever had.

“To our team,” Haven spoke as she wiped at the loose droplet on the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. She took a breath, her mind buzzing enough from the drinks to quiet any further discouraging thoughts, and when she looked at the women gathered around her once more she bore a sheepish grin.

“So…do any of you want to help me with my hair? And maybe my makeup too? I really want to see Rory’s jaw drop tonight.”