@Qia looks great! Go ahead and post her :)
The Muse
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- The Muse 9 yrs ago
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@Dark Light go ahead and post him in the character tab! :)
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| Location: Elara's Home |
Kira’s fiery orange eyes lingered on the handmaiden for a moment longer, the heat of her gaze both a weapon and a tether, her thoughts spiraling further. Her senses tugged at her like a thread pulling taut. Urging her to step forward, move into Elara’s personal space, bare her fangs. It was maddening. That sound, that pulse that filled the space between them, called to something primal—a part of herself she had long fought to suppress.
Elara’s instinct not to trust Kira was right. She needed to leave.
The logical part of her screamed that staying was dangerous, that she already stood too close to the edge. A gentle push could send her tumbling into depths of darkness she had clawed herself out of and tried so hard to avoid. Yet, a sliver of her couldn’t seem to pull away, caught between the past and the present, between who she wanted to be and what she had become. That beast in the dark was not her. It couldn’t be her. It had no claim on her.
Still, the effort to hold it at bay was wearing thin.
Kira’s heart clenched when Elara’s question came, a pang of something sharp twisting in her chest. Her gaze stayed locked on Elara, drawn by those moonlit eyes that looked at her with guarded confusion. There was something soothing about them, a brief anchor against the storm raging inside, but the steady thrum of Elara’s pulse ruined it—taunting her, pulling her back to the edge.
Despite the decades spent burying emotions and mastering her mask, a crack formed. The faintest twitch of her lips, a furrow in her brow, and a flicker of sadness passed through her eyes before she could snuff it out. For a moment, Kira looked away, breaking the intensity of her gaze. The beast inside stirred, drawn to vulnerability, but Kira clenched her jaw and forced it down.
It was better this way, she told herself again. Better that Elara didn’t remember her. Safer. Cleaner. The person Elara had been to her—the beacon of warmth and light that had kept her afloat—didn’t need to know the ghost Kira had become.
She lifted her gaze again, her expression guarded once more, carefully neutral. “We’ve crossed paths before,” Kira said, steeling herself, her voice calm and carefully measured. She tilted her head slightly, as though she were recalling a trivial memory. “In the castle. A passing moment, really.” She shrugged, her voice nonchalant as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world. The lie slid easily from her tongue, burning, but necessary. Safer—for both of them.
Before Elara could respond, Kira strategically attempted to shift the conversation, her tone softening just slightly. “Are you certain you don’t need help?” she asked, her words tinged with genuine concern despite her efforts to sound detached. She searched Elara’s eyes for the truth, though her heartbeat said enough. “I have healing herbs, or… do you need protection?”
Her eyes flicked briefly to the hand Elara still had braced against the doorframe. “The scene in the woods looked… grim. You’re not hurt, are you?”
She already knew the answer. The scent of blood clung to the air around Elara, but it wasn’t hers. Her own blood pulsed just beneath the skin—tempting but distant enough that Kira was able to hold herself back. If Elara had been hurt, Kira wouldn’t have been able to stay here.
Still, that didn’t mean Elara hadn’t been mentally shaken by witnessing such a harrowing scene. Kira had been trained to endure such horrors, but a handmaiden? She doubted Elara or the Princess were prepared for it.
As she waited for Elara to respond, the small silence allowed the sound of Elara’s pulse to overwhelm Kira’s senses once more. She could feel the beast stir beneath the surface, hungry, clawing for control, whispering sweet promises of relief, of release. Threatening to drag her under. Her own heartbeat skipped, and she was forced to steady her own breathing.
Just a little longer. Long enough to make sure Elara—and the Princess, she supposed—were safe. Then she would leave. Find someone more suited for this. She had to.
Interactions: Elara @Qia
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| Location: Crime Scene |
As the group turned to follow Ayel, Flynn paused, his attention caught by a new addition. He furrowed his brows for a moment, confused as to who this man was and why he was so eager to help.
“Do you know anything about what has happened?” he blurted out, green eyes narrowed, losing all formalities of introduction. Before the stranger could answer the question, however, Ayel was on the move. There was little time to waste, so Flynn followed, and the rest of the group fell in stride.
Moving through the streets of Dawnhaven, he kept a steady pace beside Ayel, tension lining his jaw. His mind raced with various scenarios of what could have happened in between the time he left the tavern and now.
"Your highness, this would go much faster if you allow me to use this one as a mount."
With a deadpan expression, Flynn gave the nobleman a sidelong look. “Ayel, don’t be ridicul—”
Daphne's sharp venom aimed at Ayel cut him off, and he fought the urge to smirk. He silently appreciated it, though he gave no outward indication of approval—or disapproval.
"This one, as you call it, is a woman whose name is Daphne and who is friendly enough to help me. Please pay some respect. Otherwise... wouldn't it be more appropriate if you 'ride' on me ? Just as a suggestion, of course."
The ill-dressed man’s bizarre logic gave Flynn pause, and he shot a quick glance back at him for a moment. Ride on him instead? Why would he offer such a thing? At the very least, it seemed Daphne knew him, which was… probably good? In truth, Flynn barely knew Daphne too. She had only just introduced herself to him hours ago. The only person he truly knew was Ayel, which was unsettling. This group was chaotic, to say the least. Where was Orion when he needed him most?
“Enough.” Flynn finally said, his voice cold. He had no time for pride or petty rivalries, not when lives—Amaya’s life—hung in the balance.
Putting the heated exchanges out of his mind, he refocused on the path ahead and listened to Valthyr’s account of the attack, which sent a chill down his spine. Silently, he cursed himself for leaving the tavern. He should have never left Amaya on her own, even if she had been escorted by guards and in plain view of the entire town. It was naive to think she would be safe here.
At the very least, it was good to hear from Valthyr that Amaya and Elara had escaped the gruesome encounter. But anxiety persisted. The safety of the town weighed heavily on him—the feral blightborn would need to be found and subdued—but his thoughts turned sharply to Amaya. He needed to find her, to see for himself that she was truly safe and unharmed.
Despite hearing Ayel struggling to breathe properly as they ran, Flynn pushed onward, refusing to slow down. Keeping up his nightly runs around the lake had clearly done him well.
As they drew closer to the scene, Flynn’s unease grew and his pace slowed. The sight that greeted them was worse than he had anticipated. A Priestess of Seluna came into view, standing alone amidst the devastation. His brows knit with concern as his gaze settled on the glinting tower of ice, splattered with blood and illuminated by the pale moonlight. Beside it lay a headless body sprawled on the cleared ground, a dark pool of blood pooling beneath.
Flynn’s chest tightened. Amaya’s volatile magic had created the crystalline sculpture, he had no doubt—the image of their ice-coated cabin flashing through his mind. Had she been forced to wield her power defensively? Or had she lost control entirely?
He froze for a moment, taking in the scene as his gaze darted between the body and the Priestess. He realized then that he had not met the blonde woman, though her attire clearly designated her as a Priestess of Seluna. Why was she here—alone?
“Priestess, what happened here? Are you hurt?” his asked, voice firm but not unkind. “This man claims to have seen the crime. Did you as well?” he asked, gesturing to Valthyr before returning his attention to the Priestess.
As he waited for her response, his eyes moved past her, trying to see into the darkness of the forest beyond. He scanned the area and gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if the creature who had done the damage decided to return.
Interactions: Ayel @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen, Nathaniel @Echotech71, Katherine @SpicyMeatball
@enmuni Looks great! Go ahead and post her in the character tab :)
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| Location: Elara's Home |
Yet, beneath the monstrous urge, the human part of her faltered when Elara spoke. The ache of memory was sharper than hunger.
Elara didn’t recognize her. Kira’s heart sank, a deep, wrenching ache that hollowed her out.
Of course, she didn’t. Why would she? They had been children, teenagers back then, sharing brief moments that Kira had clung to like a lifeline. Elara’s kindness had been a beacon during those turbulent times, but Elara had just been herself—warm, patient, unknowingly life-saving. Kira had just been another face to help pass the time within frigid castle walls.
A coldness glazed over Kira’s eyes as the realization settled in her chest, twisting like a blade. A shift in her mental state triggered, a defense mechanism snapping into place. ‘Foolish. Foolish to let herself slip into sentimentality, leaving her heart exposed. She knew better than that.
Kira’s walls rose again, locking the vulnerable parts of her heart away, out of reach. Elara was better off not remembering her anyway. Safer. This would become another wound Kira would carry alone, as she always had.
Uncontrollably, her gaze flicked to Elara’s neck, her pulse visible beneath pale skin. The sight of her jugular—pulsing, delicate, sweet—sent a shiver of hunger and shame down Kira’s spine. Her jaw tightened as she dragged her eyes back to Elara’s, fighting to regain control. She blinked, realizing she’d let the silence stretch for longer than natural.
“Elara.” Kira’s voice came out colder than she’d intended, sharp and restrained. It was better that way, she told herself, but the name burned on her tongue, a ghost of the warmth it once held. A part of her hated the bitterness there, but it felt necessary—armor against both the beast within and the ache that Elara’s lack of recognition caused.
While most people likely knew Elara even if she didn’t know them, Kira’s choice to address her by only her first name was a misstep—a lapse in formal expectations between strangers. To Kira, they weren’t strangers at all.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her gaze briefly drifting past Elara into the warm, open space beyond the door. Returning her attention to the handmaiden, Kira couldn’t help but to search those pale blue eyes for a flicker of recognition again. But there was nothing. No spark. No remembrance. Nothing.
Something within her—that traumatized child within—still wished for it. She wanted to be seen. To be remembered. To be wanted. Goddess, it ached. After all these years, it still ached.
The ache in her chest turned dangerous, molten anger bubbling up to fill the hollow space.
She clenched one of her fists tighter, her nails biting into her palms. She could feel it building, the simmering rage entwined with old wounds and fresh disappointment. All stoked by the feral beast who wished to be let loose.
“I saw what happened in the forest,” she finally said, trying her best to distract herself. “And I can smell the blood.” Her eyes flicked past Elara into the home again, the scent still thick in the air. “Do you need help? A healer?”
The words came out steady, but an image flashed in her mind—her lips on Elara’s neck, fangs sinking in as the warmth of blood filled her senses. Bliss.
Her eyes settled on Elara again, forcing herself to root her feet into the cold, solid ground.
She wouldn’t retreat, not yet. Instead, she waited, watching Elara, her heart torn between wanting to protect her and the feral desire to overpower her.
And she despised herself for it.
Interactions: Elara @Qia
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| Location: Elara's Home |
As the town square came into view, she broke off from the path, sticking close to the shadows of the buildings instead. In the midst of a crowd was the last place she wanted to be, especially right now. Before she could leave, a sharp, shrieking voice pierced through the air. She winced at the sound, her eyes quickly finding that miserable nobleman again. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, watching as he struggled to pull a torch down. She moved her attention to Flynn briefly, noting the Prince’s own narrowed eyes honing in on the man. ‘Good’ she thought, ‘He can take care of that disaster.’
At the moment, she was far more likely to make a meal of the man than tolerate his presence. Without Orion, there was little that stood in her way.
Refocusing on the metallic scent, Kira continued westward, pulled away from the crowded center and toward the quieter western outskirts. Several minutes later, she found herself stepping off the beaten path, her boots sinking into nearly three feet of untouched snow as she moved into the forest that lay between a residential area and the Seluna temple.
Hearing the faint sound of voices calling to one another, Kira slowed her pace until she had them in view. She paused, crouching near a tree in the thickest part of the woods. Her glowing eyes cut through the darkness, betraying her location, though the group before her seemed to have other priorities.
She blinked as she took in the scene. An area where snow had been entirely cleared from the ground, and in the center of it, massive and unnatural ice stalagmites jutted upward from the ground. Blood splattered across its crystalline surface. At its base, the source of what she had been tracking—the body of a headless guard, his lifeblood staining the frozen ground.
Kira’s fangs ached, her body humming with the primal need to feed. Her tongue brushed her lower lip as she fought to suppress the feral hunger clawing within. But her gaze flicked to the figures nearby: two guards, one covered in blood splatter, and a Seluna Priestess kneeling beside the body. Feeding now would be reckless—dangerous.
She closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to focus. Logic had to win out over this damned instinct. Slowly, she took a deep breath, tuning into the blood smells swirling through the area. Several scents intermingled, but one stood out, faint yet distinct—a trail leading north. Hearing the group's discussion, her eyes snapped open again.
The Princess was missing?
Her gaze moved to the bloodied guard. ‘What happened here?’ she wondered, though by the look on the other two people's faces, they didn’t seem to know either. Her gaze shifted north, pondering who or what it was that fled this gruesome scene into the residential area.
Deciding to let the guards and Priestess deal with their crime scene, Kira turned and began to follow the secondary blood trail. Her insides screamed at her to turn around—slit all their throats and feast instead—but she willed herself to move on. Shattering her final chance at grasping some semblance of a “normal” life would be devastating.
Eventually, the trail led her to a home she didn’t recognize, but it caused her to stop dead in her tracks, about twenty feet away from the front door. The hunger surged, sharper this time, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Another scent mingled with the first one now, one she couldn't ignore, rushing over her senses like a tidal wave.
Elara.
Kira’s lips pressed into a thin line, her heart beginning to race as she recognized the distinct, maddening smell of the handmaiden’s blood. Not fresh—still coursing beneath her skin—but unmistakable to Kira. For two long months she had gone out of her way to avoid Elara, knowing full well the struggle it brought. Whatever ran in her veins was like a siren's song, igniting the beast within like nothing else. It clawed to get closer every time she was near.
“Fuck,” Kira muttered under her breath, her fiery gaze fixated on the door ahead.
Her thoughts raced, connecting the dots. Elara could usually be found near the Princess. Was it the Princesses blood trail that led her here? Why were they here if the Princess was wounded? Or was it someone else Elara was harboring? Hopefully, not the culprit who had caused that guard to lose his head.
Kira flexed her fists, jaw clenching as she tried to steady herself. She needed to confirm if the Princess was here, if she was hurt—or if Elara needed help. The least she could do would be to return Elara’s kindness… She forced a slow, deep breath, willing herself to suppress the hunger clawing at her insides.
‘You can control this. You have to.’
Steeling herself, she approached the door, her heart pounding in her chest. For the first time in what felt like years, an unfamiliar sensation of nervousness pulled at her. She hesitated—not because of danger, but because of her own volatile nature. There were few people in the world that Kira cared to protect. Elara was one of them. Possibly the only one.
Slowly, she raised her hand and knocked, the sound sharp in the quiet. As she waited, muscles tense, she braced herself, silently telling herself she could handle this.
Interactions: Elara @Qia, Amaya @c3p-0h
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| Location: Town Square |
Thoroughly annoyed, Flynn bent to pick up the torch himself, ensuring it didn’t accidentally light anything on fire. He held it for a moment, suppressing the overwhelming urge to glare at Ayel and let out a frustrated sigh, then handed it off to a nearby guard who hurried to return it to its proper place. Dusting off his hands, Flynn forced himself to remain composed as Ayel launched into a frantic explanation.
As Ayel spoke, detailing a supposed attack, a murder, and—most horrifyingly—Amaya’s disappearance, Flynn’s chest tightened. His heartbeat quickened and his stomach churned. Taken? HOW? She had guards. Elara had been with her. She was in a crowd, surrounded by at least half the town!
Gadez had actually been telling the truth?
Guilt twisted in his chest, alongside growing fear. The blood drained from his face as Ayel’s words sank in, the weight of them suffocating.
As Ayel requested control to organize a search, Flynn couldn’t help but let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his patience thinning. Why did it have to be Ayel delivering this news? He had never liked Ayel and he had been plagued by the entire Raunefeldt family for most of his life. Flynn loathed the man’s pompous attitude, knowing full well his disdain for commoners, Lunarians and blight-born alike. And yet, Ayel was currently the only one he knew of who had answers, leaving Flynn little choice.
The Goddesses had to be playing some sort of sick joke.
When Ayel finished, Flynn inhaled deeply, forcing calm into his voice. "Thank you, Ayel," he said, curt but polite despite the storm brewing inside him. He could still hear his father’s voice, steady and commanding, echoing in his mind: “Never panic, Flynn. It does no good for the people to see their ruler falter. They look to you for strength.” His father’s lessons had been harsh at times, but necessary. A ruler who panicked was a ruler who lost control.
Turning to the guard who had taken the torch, Flynn issued a firm command. "Inform the Commanders. I want a search party assembled immediately. Go." The guard saluted and sprinted off toward the eastern gate without hesitation.
As Flynn’s gaze swept the square, he caught sight of Daphne exiting the inn with a man he recognized from the group surrounding Amaya earlier. Flynn’s voice cut through the air. "Daphne! With me. Something's happened."
His eyes narrowed in on the stranger next to Daphne then, noting the way he wore little clothing for how cold it was out. “You too.” he commanded, gesturing for the man to join him with Daphne and Ayel. “You were with the Princess earlier, weren’t you?”
Before letting the man answer, Flynn shifted his gaze back to Ayel. His instincts told him to send Ayel away, but he needed answers. Unfortunately, this irksome nobleman was his only lead. And if Ayel had been exaggerating or lying, Flynn wanted him there to face the immediate consequences.
“Ayel,” Flynn said, his voice steely, “you said you know where the body is? Lead us there. Now.”
Interactions: Ayel @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen
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| Location: Hot Springs / Townsquare |
Halfway up, the world shifted.
Like a brick wall slamming into her senses, she froze mid-step. Her eyes dilated as every nerve in her body sharpened. A faint, metallic tang carried on the breeze—a scent she knew too well. Iron. Blood.
Her gaze flicked back toward Orion. From the stairs, she studied him, searching for any sign that he, too, had noticed it. But he remained engrossed in conversation, his expression unbothered. Then, she realized, Orion wasn’t like her. It was because she was a blood-fed blight-born that this scent called to her so strongly. Whatever type of blight-born he was, his instincts didn’t seem as attuned to blood as hers.
Tearing her gaze from Orion, she resumed her steps, a battle beginning to rage within. Every instinct screamed at her to follow the scent, to find its source, to sate the hunger that had been part of her existence for years. Yet her human side—the fragile piece that still clung to normalcy—wondered why. Why was she smelling blood? Why so close to town? Maybe it was just a hunter returning with a kill, the blood fresh from the field. No… She knew this scent didn’t belong to an animal. It was human.
Kira exhaled slowly in an attempt to steady herself as she slipped back into the temple. Quiet voices echoed down the halls, but she ignored them. As she passed, her eyes briefly caught the figure of Gadez speaking to the Priestess down a hallway. Out of curiosity, she raised an amused eyebrow. The Priestess sure did seem rather friendly with that man, but Kira couldn’t stay to find out why. The metallic scent lingered in her mind, pulling her towards the exit.
Without a word, she hurried back outside. The scent grew stronger, vivid and tantalizing. Her tongue flicked across her fangs as she nearly salivated, the hunger clawing its way to the surface.
Following a trail of fresh footprints, her boots crunched against ice as she moved further into town. Near the square, she spotted the Prince and that insufferable nobleman speaking, their exchange tense enough to draw the crowd’s attention. The air felt charged, a static tension rippling through the people around them. Kira’s gaze flicked briefly to the scene, but she didn’t stop to listen. Not now. Her focus was singular.
The scent led her westward, pulling her deeper into the outskirts of Dawnhaven, the town’s hum fading as she drew closer to the source.
Mentions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus, Ayel, Gadez @Dezuel, Tia @c3p-0h
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| Location: Town Square |
But the possibility, the mere suggestion that something might have happened to Amaya, gnawed at him. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, something inside told him Gadez wasn’t lying—this time.
As he grew closer to the town square, a frantic voice sliced through the air. Flynn’s steps faltered for a moment as he listened, his stomach twisting.
"Grab your pitchforks! Torches! Find the culprits! Hide your children! The monsters are real!"
Flynn sighed heavily as Ayel’s voice rang out with exaggerated drama. Unfortunately, he knew that voice anywhere. The voice that had grated him since childhood—one that he had been hoping to avoid for much longer.
"Find the blightborn murderers and I shall pay for your drinks for the next three days at the inn! I told you they couldn't be trusted!"
‘Murderers?’ he thought, his sense of dread growing. Had something happened or was this another one of Ayel’s dramatic meltdowns? Nonetheless, the insinuations were a disaster waiting to ignite. Ayel wasn’t just making a scene; he was stoking the embers of fear and suspicion.
"Prince Flynn in his goodness has tried to shield them! And they have exploited it! Spread out! Look for the lunaris princess! Leave no peasant home unturned! Find the guilty blightborn monsters! With me!"
‘Look for Amaya? Is she missing?’ His heartbeat picked up pace.
As he approached Ayel, Flynn tightened his jaw, forcing himself to maintain the calm facade he’d become so adept at projecting. Every instinct screamed at him to break into a run toward the tavern, to find Amaya, to confirm she was safe, but he couldn’t ignore the scene Ayel was stirring up. The townsfolk began muttering among themselves, a mix of confusion and unease rippling through the crowd as they warily eyed Ayel. This fire needed to be doused before it could spread.
"Ayel." His voice cut through the crowd noise like a blade, cold and commanding. The chatter of the townsfolk hushed, their wary gazes snapping toward the prince.
“What are you doing?” Flynn stepped closer, his posture straight, his eyes narrowed as he locked eyes with the flailing nobleman. “Put the torch down.” Flynn commanded, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken consequences. “This is not an Aurelian battleground. Inciting fear, chaos, and violence is not how we do things. Now—tell me exactly what happened.”
Flynn’s gaze bored into Ayel, making it clear that his antics wouldn’t be tolerated. The tension in the air was palpable, and the gathered crowd watched in silence, awaiting the nobleman’s response.
Interactions: Ayel @Dezuel
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