Riven Wight

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Catching Dan’s eyes widen at the show of her frustrations, Anora groaned inwardly. If he’d been nervous before, she feared her outburst would only make it worse.
Her head had already begun to throb, deciding full-heartedly that now was a great time for a headache. Her stomach gnawed at her, demanding she feed it.
She was in no mood to keep dealing with Dan’s near indecipherable answers.
She blinked, surprised, when the man instead relaxed, sinking back into his seat. Even his ever-wringing hands fell still. She eyed him, trying to figure him out. Did he actually prefer hostility?
As if her action had been just the right prompt, for the first time, Dan responded in a way she understood without having to sift through his verbal fillers. For a moment, Anora could only stare, shocked at the drastic change in his tone and speech patterns.
She grimaced at the reminder of the spidery blouth from the hospital. And, like Darsby, Dan apparently had a heightened sense of smell. She hadn’t even touched the things, and he could smell them on her.
Curious, she pulled the collar of her shirt up, making the chains clipped to the side jingle lightly, and sniffed at it. The only scent she picked up on was the faint hint of laundry detergent that had somehow survived this crazed day.
Her attention snapped back to Dan as he continued. Her eyes narrowed at his practiced, mechanical tone. She met his gaze, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was almost like he’d been programmed, reverting to his default state with the right trigger. Before she could think much deeper on it, his words called for her full attention.
Her violet eyes widened at the apparent strength of the being they were up against.
“Several solar systems?” she hissed, but the gentle rush of the briny wind through Ahllasta’s open window and Dan continuing drowned out her voice.
She let out a quick, disbelieving breath at his ‘second job.’ Despite his words, there was a sickening brusqueness to it, like someone stating they’d prefer to have the whole cake, but would happily settle for just a slice. Only it was people he was talking about. Billions of them. But to him, it sounded like it was nothing but business.
Her hand fisted against the seat. Sparks of purple and gold puffed to involuntary life around her fingers for a second as angry heat rose to her cheeks at Dan’s relative indifference. It took her a moment to force herself to refocus on the man’s words.
“I what now?” Incredulous surprise pushed her anger aside for a moment. “In a [i]war?[i]” She huffed out a breath, turned around, and leaned heavily back into her seat. She looked down, gaze and jaw tense. “A war you expect to kill billions of people!”
There was no way she would let that happen. Somehow, there had to be a way to avoid losing over half the people of the world. To avoid a war between an intergalactic invasion party and overpowered god-level wizard. A war she apparently had enough of a part in to get the attention of a bunch of psychics. Prophets. Whatever his blasted ‘Seers Guild’ was.
She let out a dark, hysterical chortle at the thought as she reached for her open backpack at her feet. This whole thing had thrown ‘insane’ out the window long ago. She didn’t think there even was an English adjective strong enough that would work for the situation.
She pulled out another of dwindling supply of granola bars and started to open it. She glanced out the windshield just long enough to realize they were already approaching a coastline. She paused, staring out at the approaching civilization, the wrapper of her snack partially torn.
Until now, she hadn't even noticed the shift in lighting, the subtle—and not so subtle—indications of entering a completely different time zone. The now morning sun glittered off of windows in the distance, turning the city into a spectral to behold.
She shook her head lightly and ripped the granola bar open. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised they had made a fifteen-hour flight in a matter of maybe half an hour, give or take.
“So what is it you plan on doing about Pahn, Monster Mash?” she snapped, returning to the issue at hand. She tossed the wrapper into her bag. “Figure out where he is, then call in an armada? Confront him yourself?”

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Yep, I'm still around! Disappear frequently without warning, but I'm here and up for continuing this if you are! I've read the last couple pages--we've written a lot in just a few pages!--and updated Anora's character profile a bit. Added a section with everything in her backpack so I don't randomly give her something she doesn't actually have.

That's all you can do, really, isn't it? Make the most of things? I remember you saying you were working on doing everything necessary to fully get out of the Navy. Glad it finally went through! Sorry things have still been hectic, though.

Been okay. Still alive and mostly well, that's for sure! Going to end up moving to another state here soon, thankfully. Can't wait for that, but getting there's been a pain. And it's been delayed thanks to the dang virus.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

AAAAAHHHH! *Tackle-hugs you.* HI! Welcome back! :-D It's been a while! I hope things are going okay for you, and that you're staying safe amidst all the recent insanity!

Since it's been a while, I probably should back-read a bit, but will get to a response as soon as my brain lets me. I've quite missed this RP, though.

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Arla shrugged at Rayth’s response, adjusting her hold on the door flap. “You should smell the locker room after track practice. Besides. Aren’t—” she cast a quick glance through the opening. Though no one else stood nearby that she could see, she lowered her voice, all the same, “vampires supposed to have super-smell or something?”
She watched him as he stepped toward her, doing her best to ignore the impulse to step away. She shrugged again at his dismissal of her perfume idea, pretending she knew what Eau de Déchets meant outside of apparent context. “Hey, it worked for Monster’s Inc.”
She raised her brows at him as he passed, adding another epithet to her list.
“Woof, woof, Count von Count,” she said, letting the flap fall back into place, refusing to let him have the last line of banter.
She hurried to catch up to him, once more keeping herself between him and the party-goers.
The music from the after party still drummed through the warm night’s air, but conversations had died down, as if a majority of the guests had left. Her brows furrowed. She had no idea what time it was, but it seemed a bit early to call it a night, even by normal standards.
Wondering how many people still remained, she started to turn her head toward the covered festivities. Rayth’s voice called her attention fully back to him before she could get any kind of good look.
She ran her tongue over the back of her teeth, debating on how much to tell him. She’d practiced a cover story, down to a fake ‘hometown’ if she could get away with it. With a mental shrug, she decided the vague truth wouldn’t do any harm.
“Sorta,” she began, matching her pace to his. She looked upward to him, even the boy towering over her. Though, that wasn’t exactly the hardest thing in the world to do. “Just outside Los Vegas.” She cocked her head slightly, curiosity replacing a majority the caution in her gaze. “What about you?”

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Rayth’s quick laugh made Arla jump, her expression wavering. But it melted quickly back into a half-grin as he repeated her playful insult. She shrugged one shoulder in a silent, ‘no regrets’ confirmation of what she’d said.
She returned his wink with a confused blink at his retort. “Smurf—Oh!” Remembering her recently died hair, her grin widened. She glanced up at her bangs and blew at their blue strands. “Hey. At least Smurfette had her pick of the boys in the village.”
The amusement in her emerald eyes shifted into a ready wariness as Rayth stood. She followed his gaze to the tent flaps curiously, then settled back on him as he turned to her.
She stiffened at his question, her mouth pulling down slightly in a frown. A part of her hated that he’d know where she was staying. But, she supposed, that would be unavoidable, regardless. As little as she knew about trains, she figured it’d be impossible to not bump elbows with the same person from time to time.
But then, maybe that could work for her advantage. The closer they were, the better of an eye she could keep on him. Make sure he wasn’t doing anything suspicious behind Frieda’s back. As amicable as he seemed, everyone had their secrets. Her parents’ corporate parties had taught her that much, at least.
She snorted a laugh at his apparent reasoning for wanting to leave the Big Top.
“What, tired of my stink already?” She stood and readjusted her backpack. She gave an animatedly sad sigh. “Just when I was considering bottling it. Eau de Smurf.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the exit. Keeping one eye on Rayth as discretely as she could, she pulled back one side of the entrance flaps.
Arla looked fully to him, then nodded for him to go first. “Lead the way, Mosquito Boy.”

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Huzzah! Monthly post in. .

Oh, dang about the workload dump! I hope you managed to get caught up with all your classes okay. Never fun having to play catch-up like that. If you don't mind my asking, what classes are you taking?

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Arla’s brows rose slightly in amusement at Rayth’s slight proud smile. She blinked slowly at his response of “That’s right,” unsure which of her last statements or questions it was intended for. With a mental shrug, she decided it was a sum to all of it. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but she caught his gaze flick toward her neck.
She inhaled, muscles tensing. She moved her hand from propping herself up to rest closer to her hunting knife, ready to draw it. But he didn’t make a move toward her before he continued speaking. She met his gaze, holding it until he looked away to let his hair down. Her eyes followed his hand as he pulled the tie from his hair. He was on the handsome side, she’d give him that.
Scowling, she shook her head at the ill-timed thought, and glanced away. Holding her breath, her eyes narrowed as she mulled over his words.
At least he was being honest, then. Or at least, she felt like he was being honest. Sincere. While she wouldn’t say she was the best judge of character, she was at least usually good enough to get by. Though time would tell, she had the feeling she wouldn’t have to worry about being killed in her sleep. For tonight, at least.
At last, she released her breath. She slid her hand back from her knife to again help support her sitting position. She raised her chin as Rayth continued, assuring her that the cirque was exactly what she’d hoped it was.
Arla snorted a laugh somewhere between amused and disbelieving at his last words, unsure if he’d meant it as a joke or not.
“Knife thrower and a comedian?” she began, raising her brows at him. “No wonder they accepted you in.” She exhaled heavily and shook her head, glancing away. “I’m not going anywhere ‘just because of you.’ Wouldn’t be here now if that was the case, would I?”
She felt the truth of her decision settle fully in her as the words left her mouth, as if all it needed was to be said to be written in stone. This would be the start of the adventure she’d wanted, one way or another. Vampire or no vampire.
“Besides.” She looked back to him. The corner of her lips quirked upward as she donned a cocky expression. “I can’t knowingly let a giant mosquito go parading around a circus mostly unchecked, now, can I?”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elyra heaved a sigh when Ghent moved away. She didn’t want to look at him. To deal with him. She scowled as a thought that meant she had to interact with him struck her.
“Just don’t…” She glanced up to Ghent just in time to see him duck behind one of the trees of the woods. She let out an exasperated groan and gripped the bridge of her nose. “Go into the woods,” she finished her statement in a grumble.
She glanced to his weapon still laying discarded on the ground. He'd gone off without his weapon.
“Whatever,” she grumbled to herself. If he was going to be stupid about it, he deserved to be eaten.
But he doesn’t know any better. The annoying reminder snuck into her mind unbidden. Her lips puled down, loathing the truth of the words. It was evident enough in what she'd experienced that he’d lived a life far different from hers.
A life filled with safety and family.
She let out a groaning growl, and shook her head. It didn’t matter. He was [i]here[i] now. He needed to adapt, or die.
Still, she kept an ear open for any sign of trouble. The last thing she wanted was to lose him. And, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she now had a score to settle, a debt to repay. He had, after all, saved her life.
Walking on her knees to the first aid kit, she grabbed her saber and placed it beside her. Ready for action at the slightest disturbance, she cast frequent glances to the tree Ghent had vanished behind.
Elayra reached up to her neck to check if the bleeding had stopped on its own. Pulling away, she scowled at the light splash of red tinting her fingertips. The river had also prevented the thornbites from clotting. Which meant she still had some work to do before Drust returned.
Drust. She looked again to the trees, this time to roughly the last place she’d seen their guardian. Judging by the slight shift in the shadows’ angle, she guessed his half hour mark had passed.
She shook her head and took a breath. He’s fine, she tried to reassure herself. She couldn't stand when he was late, good excuse or not. And it might not have been half an hour yet.
Wanting to focus on something else, she reached for the first aid box, opened it, and removed the wad of bandages. She pulled the stiletto from the ground and wiped the blade off on the bottom of her dress-like shirt. She cut off a portion of the bandages, dampened the cloth with the moondrop milk, then carefully dabbed at the wounds encircling her neck. She felt the gentle, not-quite-stinging tingle of it beginning to work.
As she finished, she looked back to Ghent’s tree, frowning. It shouldn’t be taking him this long to change.
Collecting her sword, she stood. “Everything okay?” she called, cautiously stepping toward his trees. She caught the faint mutter of his voice, but not his words. Her eyes narrowed.

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Glad you got your to-do list under control, though! Always nice to not have to stress over things too much.

No worries! But thanks for the heads-up. You're better at remembering to give those than I am. :-/ I apologize myself: I ended up going on a last-minute trip. I'll get to an IC reply as soon as I can! I understand that to some extent, about being overwhelmed despite apparently being on track. You're so close to finishing! It's wonderful that you've gotten this far. Major respect to you for going all the way, and best of luck with that final stretch!

Shackles of Revenge

Though the shadows didn’t quite understand what a “park” was in word, they knew in thought and theory. It was a place of fun, and of training. A place that reeked of fizzy joy, tangy adrenaline, and the rich, almost peppery anger of screaming children forced to leave before they desired. The shadows here didn’t fully comprehend the emotions, but Kyair knew them all well. Each of their delectable flavors, every one as different in taste and smell one from another as fruit to a human.
Though, he had to admit, he almost couldn’t choose whether he liked the taste of the humans’ emotion or food more.
The pools of darkness whispered to him, drowning out the distant, muddled echoes of the day beyond the in-between place. Guiding him. Keeping tabs on the two he’d seen—or almost seen. Though they’d refused to show him the other girl, they at least kept track of her for him now.
Kyair stopped at the side of a plain, two-story home. An unwarded home. Pompous fools. No doubt, they thought they were deep enough in their little “safe” community that they didn’t have to worry about invasion. To them, there were no monsters here.
Even when they were the ones more worthy of the title than the beings they hunted.
Kyair smirked. If only his intended victims had been that foolish.
He let his shadowy, wispy form solidify in the darkness. Even against the rest of the shadows, his body stood out as black as night amidst the Inbetween. A shadow to rule them all.
In the world of humans, the shadow beside the house seemed to quiver, then darken. But only the deserted side street bore witness to the nearly imperceptible, human-shaped mass hiding within. The gurgled, hollow echo of a lawnmower ricochet through the air, adding to the faint background noise of the otherwise quiet.
He took a deep breath, letting the chilled air of the Inbetween seep through him. Letting it cool the uncomfortable warmth from the stretches of light that had tried to infect him in his travels.
He scowled out at the blurry world of light in front of him, as if the expression alone could frighten the sun to submit to its gentler sister sooner. But its discomfort would be worth it. He’d make it worth it.
The park was near, that much he was certain. He had beaten the girls here. Alas, from what his shadows told him, the mystery girl was delaying them. Taking a ride on a motorcycle. Wretched hunter.
He sighed heavily, taking the moment of dull inactivity to mull over the situation.
Two of his four targeted families were out on assignment, that much he’d gleaned in the night. Their houses stood vacant, the darkness left to play at its leisure through their homesteads. But the Gennings girl and Prescotts remained. Even the Prescotts had a child, from what the not-quite-words of the whispering Inbetween told him. And if anything would call the Gennings couple back, it would be the disappearance of their daughter.
And what better way to get revenge? Blood for blood. Family for family. He’d take his time, though. Oh, yes. He’d enjoy feasting on their pain.
A sadistic smile quirked at his lips, twisting at the the black mass of his face. Whoever had stated “Revenge is sweet,” must have been a noxtren. More, though, their suffering would ensure their families knew their children died for the sins of their parents. For the innocent lives they’d ripped away from him.
The innocent for the innocent.
If you could call the spawn of hunters “innocents.” As a plus, their death would mean there would be two fewer hunters in the world.
He sighed and leaned his back against the shadow of the house. The murk of the light world turned the solid, crisp edges of its silhouette into a smoky afterimage of itself where the sunlight touched it. There, but intangible to him in this existence between the human world and Nocreum. The unguarded walls stood out from the warded homesteads of other hunters nearby, a faint colored aura shimmering over their forms, distorted where they bathed in the daylight.
He tapped his foot impatiently. If they didn’t get here soon, he may just have to risk another trip jumping shadows.

Ava frowned theatrically at Jason’s comment about keeping his cat company. “Don’t worry, Hanna!” she called in the general direction the cat had stalked off in. “I’m sure he wasn’t calling you a werewolf!”
Ava eyed Lydia at the other girl’s refusal. Ava looked at her thoughtfully, trying to figure out if the answer was for her sake, or Lydia’s. She raised her brows, then gave a small, encouraging smile. She jerked her head toward Jason and his bike. She nodded almost smugly when Lydia finally accepted the offer.
If her friend was going to figure out how Jason really was, it’d have to be for herself. And the sooner, the better.
Catching as Jason’s expression changed like a kicked puppy offered a steak, Ava rolled her eyes. Can he get any more ridiculous?
Ava swiftly took the bag her friend handed her to look out for. She smiled at the promise of keeping everything in it if Lydia didn’t come back.
“Sure.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “But if you have any snacks in there, I can’t guarantee they'll still be there even if you do get back!” A sly smile spread further over her orange-painted lips at Lydia’s last promise. “You know you’ll probably regret that, right?”
As soon as Lydia was situated on the motorcycle behind Jason, Ava stepped fully outside the garage. And not a moment too soon. With the garage around it to amplify the engine, it rumbled to life with the volume of a herd of trumpeting elephants.
Ava barely heard Jason’s shout to her. She rolled her eyes, her whole head accentuating the action, but she was sure he didn’t see it; the motorcycle rolled from the garage like a living thing, narrowly missing her.
She cupped her hands around her mouth, trying to amplify her voice. “Remember, no kissing on the first date, Lids!” she called after them, unsure if they would hear over the engine.
She watched for a moment as the bike sped down the road. Adjusting Lydia’s bag, she stepped over to the mailbox. She eyed it, trying to figure out how best to set it right.
She tried simply to straighten it, but it tilted right back over as if wilting in the summer heat. She sat Lyida’s pack on the ground and tried a couple more times, even kicking some earth and rocks at its base, but what damage Jason had dealt it wouldn’t be so easily undone.
With a shrug, she gave up, reshouldered Lydia’s bag, then sat on the small sliver of grass between sidewalk and street. She wouldn’t put it past Jason to take longer just to spite her.
She picked at a peeling rose mixed in with the fake tattooed flowers raining down her arm, then moved to take her phone from her pocket.
She looked up as a convertible Chevy Camaro rolled down the street, its top open. Her shoulders slumped and she looked toward the sky in dismay as she recognized the driver. The navy car slowed as it neared her, then parked at the curb a couple yards from the mailbox.
“Good morning, Ms. Gennings!” Matthew Sallow called as he opened his door. “Or is it afternoon now?” Half in and half out his car, he checked his watch. He sighed heavily, frowning at it as if it was its fault for making time pass. “Afternoon, then.”
Ava forced a smile in greeting to the community overseer. “Good afternoon, sir!” She felt almost proud at how convincing the lightness in her voice sounded.
A man in his late thirties, Matthew took a moment to smooth out his short, curly blond hair. He opened the door and stepped out. He retrieved a tan business suit jacket matching his pants from the back seat and tossed it over his shoulder, holding on to it by the collar.
Ava couldn’t help but think he looked more like a rugged, clean-shaven politician than a hunter.
“Your tie’s crooked.” Ava nodded toward the black tie standing out against his white, long-sleeved undershirt.
He glanced down and scowled at it. With a sigh, he slung his jacket over the car door, then worked on straightening his tie.
Ava struggled to hide a grin.
“Are the Bennetts in?” Matthew retrieved his jacket, brushed a speck of dirt off its front, then draped it over his arm.
Ava shrugged. If Jason had said, she hadn’t been paying attention. “Jason just left, but he and Lydia should be back soon. No clue about his parents.”
“Lydia Prescott?” His eyes lit in surprise.
Ava’s brows rose. “Know any other Lydias around here, sir?”
“No, I suppose not.” Matthew paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “They spend time together often, do they? The Bennett boy and Lydia?”
“No. But I’m sure Lidd—Lids,” she corrected her nickname, “is hoping that’ll change.” For now, anyway. “Should I tell her to say hi to her parents from you?”
He pulled himself from his thoughts, his gaze returning fully to Ava. “No, no.” He waved his free hand in a lazy dismissal. “Their homestead’s my next stop once I’ve concluded my business here.” He turned, retrieved a brown briefcase from the front seat, then strode down the sidewalk. The sunlight shone dully off his slightly scuffed shoes.
“About a hunt?” Despite Ava’s dislike of hunting, even her interest was piqued. In this era, where missions were delivered in the span of a phone call and email, a personal visit from an overseer to deliver one was rare. Especially to a lower-ranking family like Jason Bennett’s.
He glanced over his shoulder with a grim smile. “Yes, Ms. Gennings. A hunt.”
“It’s Ava.”
In Lion’s Ridge, you didn’t question an overseer. But Ava scrambled to her feet and trod after him. She held her hands loosely behind her back, Jason and Lydia’s adventure momentarily forgotten.
“What kind of hunt?” she asked, falling in slow stride with him in the driveway. “Something in town? Or something big elsewhere? Must be big, if you’re recruiting both the Bennetts and the Prescotts! Though, I don’t get why’d you need the Bennetts with the—”
“Ava,” Matthew let out an annoyed sigh as he stopped. He turned and looked down at her, standing about half a foot taller than her. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss the specifics with any not listed for the cases in question. But they aren’t linked. My business with both are separate matters. Matters which,” he raised his hand with the briefcase, checking his watch again, “I’m already behind on. So, if you’d excuse me, Ms. Gennings.”
“Ugh,” she threw her head back in exasperation.
This Society and their stupid secrets. It wasn’t like the Bennetts and Prescotts weren’t going to brag about it, anyway. All it took was a couple beers and a hand of poker, and the whole community would be in on the secret while pretending they weren’t. Rumor had it, overseers knew everything that went on in their community, so she’d think he’d know that, newbie overseer or not. That he'd actually showed up on their doorsteps would be rumor fodder enough for the innumerable nosy neighbors already peeking through their windows.
“Fine,” she finished through a heaving sigh as she turned and slumped back to the curb. She glanced back as Matthew sat his briefcase down at the doorstep and rang the doorbell.
Ava leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. Trying to keep her curiosity from running wild and forget about this newest hush-hush hunt, she could only wait for Lydia to return.