Riven Wight

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

“What do you have against my name?” Elayra snapped, keeping her voice low enough that it would not carry to the man as he drew ever closer. “Elayra,” she enunciated it slowly. “It’s not that hard.” She looked back to Miles as he nearly finished closing the distance between them. “I take it you know this man?”
Realizing the shield above them may gain extra unwanted attention, she shifted her focus away from the magic maintaining it. Without her direction, it burst once more into a glittering dust that vanished quickly in the rain. “And for the record,” she added as the raindrops at last managed to reach them in full, “I wasn’t going to shoot him. Yet, anyway.”
When Miles stopped in front of them, Elayra returned his gaze, her suspicion far heavier than his as she looked him over. She glanced to his hands, hidden in his pockets, and her grip on the dagger tightened slightly. There was no telling what he could be hiding inside.
“‘Late?’” she repeated, then glanced up at the sky as Ghent answered him, blinking away raindrops, but the cloud cover still made it impossible to tell what time it was. Though, it did look like the clouds had lightened ever so slightly.
She tensed when the man withdrew his hands from his pockets, pulling out an unusual rectangular device no larger than his thumb. Unsure what to expect, she shifted her left foot slightly behind her, ever tense, when he flicked its top and a flame ignited easily from it. She had seen devices with similar capabilities in Wonderland, but none as small as his. Curiosity momentary getting the better of her, she moved to get a better look as he lit his cigarette.
She gave Ghent a sideways look when the man asked about her, wondering how he planned on answering.
At the prospect of her being his ‘damsel in distress,’ her face scrunched up with the effort of suppressing a snarl. As much as she wanted to scold him for suggesting such a thing, his wink only making her efforts against it that much more difficult, they needed to get rid of Miles. If Ghent's lie would get that job done, she could not risk disillusioning the man further than he already looked to be. Instead, she forced a tight smile that would not fool anyone, and her eyes narrowed as Miles eyed her weapons.
“‘Them?’” she asked at the same time as Ghent, her her expression sobering, becoming more worried and alert. “Them who?”
Though his answer made little sense to her, she understood one thing: it shocked Ghent.
She glanced between the two as they exchanged their final words, the smell of the smoke rising from his cigarette and flooding from his lungs threatening to make her choak. Tobacco was not an unfamiliar scent to her, but whatever kind of substance that was, it smelt like it must have been a few centuries past its expiration date. She held her breath.
She turned to watch Miles go, taking the smoke with him as she made sure he did not decide to return. Once he had rounded the corner, she glanced to Ghent’s side, then punched him in the arm, hard, just as he apologized.
“That’s for calling me a damsel in distress,” she snarled, glaring at him. She snorted at his question. “Sure,” she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me just summon the Mystics from the grave. No, it can’t meet us halfway!” She gave a growling sigh. Whatever Miles’ words had meant to him, had apparently been enough to concern him. “What are ‘cops’ and ‘punks’ in this world that they’d make you suggest that?”

Of Science and Magic

On that, would you prefer to keep "get to know each other" chatter--if you don't mind it in general--in PMs, or on here?

Real quick, how deep were you thinking the water beneath the furthest part of Byrce's ice sheet is?

Of Science and Magic

Zane gave a yelp when Byrce easily turned the tables, instead pouncing on him. He turned his head and body at the werewolf’s nip to return it with trying to bite at the thick fur near the large wolf’s neck, but his attention, too, turned to Thea when she moved. Taking advantage of Byrce’s pause in action, Zane wriggled away from the other wolf. When Byrce nudged his cheek against his, he tried to lick the other wolf’s snout, then pranced back to Thea as their mutual friend went to the river’s edge.
“I did say walk, not swim, downriver, right?” Thea asked lightly before her friend looked back at them, Thea cocking her head curiously in response. When he gave his non-verbal request, she smiled at him, her attention already on him.
Thea stepped closer and around the boulder she had sat on, bending her body to get a better look as he lifted a paw and placed it on the water. When a cloud of mist burst into existence and rolled over the water, she stepped back, surprised, and hit the boulder, making her fall to a sitting position on it. When the mist dissipated, leaving a thick layer of ice over the river rushing below it, Thea gawked and Zane gave a yelp and backed away, his ears pulling flat against his head.
I thick layer of ice now glittered in the sunlight a good distance over the flowing river, reflecting the fiery leaves of the shedding trees nearest it.
Zane glanced to Thea, caution in his dark, questioning gaze as he moved to stand more in front of her protectively.
She paid Zane little attention, besides giving him an absent reassuring pat. When Byrce looked to them again, she could not help but mimic his grin as she returned to her feet.
“You… have magic!” she exclaimed excitedly, her expression widening and twinkling in her eyes as Byrce walked across the ice.
She stepped to the ice’s edge as Byrce ran back to them, then stopped in front of her. She gladly let him tap her hand with his nose.
“That’s… absolutely amazing, Byrce!” She moved to quickly pet the fur on the side of his neck, then giddily stepped out onto the ice at the shallower part of the river.
Zane whimpered in a warning against it, pawing indecisively at the edge of the ice as Thea lifted her skirts just enough to see her boots on the frozen water as she stepped out further onto the icy river. She turned back to Byrce, slipping slightly.
“Byrce Vukasin,” she began in a grand voice, thrusting one hand out to the side, “prince of the wolves, and master of ice!” She draped her arm over her midsection, and gave Byrce a mix between a deep bow and a curtsy.

To Cure a Curse

One advantage of being a light sleeper, was Rayadell rarely found herself dreaming anymore. It was the nights when she could sleep easily that she dreaded. But on this night, with the woods around her and a new companion to ponder on, that did not pose an issue.
Still, hours passed quickly in the realm between sleep and consciousness. Though the sound of someone's feet landing on the ground was soft, it was enough to stir Rayadell fully from her slumber. As footsteps neared her, she instinctively reached for her staff in case Calanon had encountered something in his watch--or missed something. By the time he knelt in front of her, Rayadell had her staff ready to pull herself up or strike out with it. With his form lit eerily by the moonlight and the smoldering embers of the fire behind her, she immediately recognized it was only Calanon.
At his question, she nodded and stood. She glanced to the fire desperately clinging to life, and went to the pile of wood she had collected. She dropped a couple logs on the embers, making red sparks flair up in excitement at their meal.
“Rest well, Calanon,” she bade him softly, then headed toward the edge of their small campsite. Though a tree would grant her a good vantage point, her legs felt too restless to remain motionless in the branches.
Slowly, quietly, she made her way around the perimeter, pausing every few steps to stop and listen to the night, to search for signs of anything lurking nearby. Though a deeper chill had settled in as the night grew darker, Rayadell welcomed the temperature and the fresh crispness it carried with it. She cast Calanon and Borgach glances every now and again. The friendship the two shared was unique, to say the least. But it was there, beast and elf. Elf and beast. And both seemed harmless enough.
She snorted at the thought. After all, not everything was as it appeared.
Once, she returned to them as the fire began to die, feeding the eternal hunger of the fire as quietly as she could to avoid disturbing either of them, before returning to her watch, which she had the feeling the tree spirit accompanied her on. Surprising, for a creature that usually had a short attention span.
When at last the sky began to lighten as the sun started to awake, Rayadell made her way once more back to her companions, giving the Elk a fair amount of space on her way to Calanon, just in case.
With one hand on her staff, she knelt carefully, and moved to place her other hand on his shoulder to wake him should her presence not be enough to do the job. “Calanon.”

The Collector (2) [Closed]

@Scarifar
Yay for posts!

We're now waiting for the masterminds of this, right?

They Live Among Us (Vampiricchild x Siaya)

Victoria followed after Alex, her arms wrapping around her midsection as she, too, scanned the area. Anyone—anything—could be hiding anywhere. After all, that shadow beast had leapt out of nowhere. At the thought, her eyes darted to the nearest shadow in the thankfully deserted street, and she made an extra effort to give it more space than necessary.
“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious,” she said, her unease making her tone harsher than she intended. She took a deep breath, her gaze turning to the sidewalk at her feet. “Sorry,” she apologized softly. “I… I don’t care where. This is just better than sitting around an apartment waiting for Nyaira to show back up.” She hugged herself a little tighter.

On the opposite side of the city, the early evening sun glinted on the shards of broken glass that hung onto window frames for dear life, and glittered on the many shattered bottles that littered the ground. Though the neighborhood had once been teeming with people, now it sat abandoned, vacant save for a single, decaying pub.
Various bits of trash blew by the pub’s door like tumbleweeds in the gentle wind that had begun to sweep through that part of town. A worn sign that read “The Tipsy Ogre” creaked above the aged wood and cracked doorway of the entrance.
Inside, a large, burly man ten times too large for the seat he leaned back in had has feet resting on the bar counter as he snored loudly. Empty tables and booths dotted the scuffed floor and lined the walls. The lights, kept intentionally dim in hopes of hiding the peeling wallpaper and cracking walls beneath, shown dismally from a few strategically placed sconces and dusty lamps hanging from the ceiling.
“ARGH!”
The burly man startled into awareness with a loud snort. The chair creaked and threatened to break before he fell to the floor with a ground-shaking [i]thud.[i] The bottles lining the wall behind him rattled, a few coming dangerously close to falling from the shelves.
The bartender groggily pulled himself to his feet with aid from the bar’s counter as Luc slammed the door to the men’s bathroom open and stormed out.
“Oy!” the bartender complained, his voice impossibly deep and imposing. “This place not in bad enough shape for you?”
“Ceci imbécile femme!” Luc snarled, a cellphone clutched tightly in his hand. It took all his willpower to keep from crushing it. “Quelle était-elle pensant?!”
“Didn’t go well, I takes it?” The bartender smirked and straightened his chair, which had miraculously survived.
Luc turned his snarl on the man, boring his fangs. Even in his rage, the perfection of his pale form made the rest of the bar look even more drab, as if, if the place had feelings, it would be embarrassed to be within a hundred yards of his presence.
“Zat vacuous woman barged in on Illyad’s ‘ome. Alone,” he growled.
The bartender laughed as he sat back down in the chair, returned his feet to the counter, and crossed them at the ankles. He moved his thick arms over his chest, grinning despite Luc giving him another snarl. “Now thats what I’d call stupid! Some choice you’ve made in a girlfriend!” His deep, boisterous laugh sounded through the room again.
“I suggest you still your tongue,” Luc warned, his voice low and menacing as he neared the counter, “before I rip it out.”
The threat only wetted the bartender’s amusement. He gave another, darker laugh and pulled his feet from the counter. “I ain’t the one who needs to watch his tongue, bloodsucker!” The man gave Luc a conceited grin as he stood. He placed both his meaty hands on the counter and leaned toward the vampire. The counter creaked under his weight, but did not cave. “You might be high on the food chain in your little world, but here? Here, you're playing with the big boys, little vamp. You've a ways to climb before you get to talk to me like that.”
Anger flashed once more over Luc’s crimson eyes. But then, he blinked. Pulling himself to his full height to stand in all his regal glory, he stared at the bartender with a knowing look.
“Of course, monsieur.” He gave a smile as dangerously sweet and mockingly compliant as his voice. “Do forgive me.”
The bartender glared suspiciously down at Luc as he crossed his arms with a, “Humph.” He snorted. “So. The girl got away, did she?”
“Yes,” Luc snapped murderously, his grip on the phone momentarily tightening.
The bartender smirked. “He won’t be very pleased to hear about this.”
For the briefest moment, fear flashed through Luc’s eyes. “I will take care of zis. I will get ‘im zee girl.”
“Well, you’d better, Luc.” The bartender added an extra syllable to the end of the vampire’s name, making it sound more like an airy ‘Luca.’ “If he doesn’t… well.” He chuckled menacingly. “That won’t end good for anyone, will it?”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra snorted at Ghent’s comment about her being ‘something else.’ “For your sake, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She frowned when Ghent called Drust their uncle. “We already told you he’s not blood related to either of us,” she said through an impatient sigh as she turned left, a finger still rubbing over one of the feathers on her arrows.
Her frown deepened when he reiterated her statement about coffee. “That’s what I just said, isn't it?” She looked to him with a raised eyebrow.
“What about tea?”
“Tea?” she interrupted before Ghent continued. Her brows rose. “I… wouldn’t know. He’s known for many things, but a tea obsession isn’t one of them,” she said slowly, wondering where that odd question had come from. “But yes, tea is easy enough to make when you can find herbs to do so.”
She blinked at his hope, realizing that neither she nor Drust had fully explained the situation with Hatter. But he would need to know, sooner or later. Deserved to know. But her eyes narrowed at him when he continued.
“I would hope you’re not referring to Drust and me,” she growled dangerously as they turned the corner. "We aren't the crazy ones." She eyed the slouching man further down the sidewalk suspiciously, her grip on her bow tightening, but he did not seem to notice them immediately.
“Wait, what?” she snapped at Ghent’s suggestion of taking the scenic route. “Like you just said, we shouldn’t keep Drust waiting any longer!” She scowled and took an irate breath as she finally left her arrows alone and gripped the bridge of her nose. One thing at a time, she ordered herself. “Look, Ghent,” she began, unsure how to tell him about Hatter. “Your ‘old man,’ he—”
Before she could get more than that out, her attention snapped to the man when he called Ghent’s name. In an instant, she gauged the distance between him and them, decided an arrow would be sufficient at that range, and cocked and drew back her bow, her feet shifting expertly with the motion. Though ever ready to fire with the arrow aimed toward the man’s chest, she held it, unsure whether the man was friend or foe.
Elayra snarled when Ghent called her ‘your highness,’ her grip on the bow unwavering. “Shut. Up!” she bit. When he finished, she glared at him for a short moment, then slowly released her bow, preventing the arrow from firing. “Fine,” she growled grudgingly, returning the arrow to its quiver, “but don’t ever call me that, especially where enemy ears might hear!”
As the man approached, she rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger hanging beside the quiver, trying to make the action look as leisurely as possible, ever ready to draw it or her sword should the need arise.

Of Science and Magic

Awesome. :-) Right now, because things keep coming up, I would estimate I'll be unusually busy until mid next month, but I hope that'll change, and I'll get a couple slow weeks yet in between.

Of Science and Magic

When after a few seconds Byrce was not so much as running beside her, Thea turned her head to look over her shoulder with a taunting expression. She opened her mouth to call to him, but the large wolf sped past her, easily leaving her in the dust.
“Little sneak!” Thea laughed, the jovial sound echoing between the trees. Bending her head in determination and a grin ever plastered on her red-stained lips, she ran as fast as her feet would carry her, sticks cracking beneath her shoes in her playful haste.
She had missed this, running freely through nature with the wolf-prince: the wind of her speed—as pathetic as it may be in comparison to a wolf’s—making her fiery hair glide behind her. The earthy smell of dirt and trees, free of the smoky incense scent that seemed to linger in most parts of the castle these days. The joyful songs of the birds filling the air in place of the lonely silence of the stone halls or dull conversations of her family and her father’s council and mages.
Thea hurried around the fallen tree in the same direction as her friend, then laughed again when Byrce howled. Before the sound could finish leaving his throat, she cupped her hands to her mouth and gave her best mimicry of the sound.
A couple paces behind her, Zane gave a short yip, then his own howl joined in with the others.
When she at last arrived at the water’s edge, Byrce was already waiting, staring in their direction as if he had been waiting for a while.
“Rub it in, why don’t you?” She chuckled, and stepped to the large, flat boulder Byrce laid beside. Though only slightly out of breath, she hopped onto the stone and leaned her arms back. She rolled over onto her stomach and placed her chin in her hands, looking to Zane, who had technically arrived last. “But at least I’m not the skinned lizard!”
Zane gave a confused whine, his ears pulling back slightly as he cocked his head. His apparent show of semi-understanding only made Thea laugh again as he padded to her side. She reached down and ruffled the top of his head.
“It’s okay. I still love you, even if you are a skinned lizard.”
Zane licked her hand, then turned to Byrce and pounced, his fluffy tail wagging behind him.
Thea straightened and looked out at the river. Somewhere around thirty-five feet wide by her calculations, the water at this part of the river flowed gently, undulating without a care in the world. A slight sense of extra freshness rose from it, bringing with it the slight, yet not altogether unpleasant, scent of fish and wet earth.
“Alright, slowpokes.” She stood, trying to redirect the wolves’ attention should they be in the middle of a sparring match. “Ready to follow the river downstream, or are you still catching your breath?”

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Don't worry about it. I know how things can come up and keep people busy for a while. I've been rather unexpectedly busy myself as of late, so have been a bit slower than my usual with replies. Got a bit lucky this weekend with free time to work on them, though!