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Multiple Settings Alumni of the Arcane || IC

hotsauce

hotsauce

chat is this real





















  • intro






























    always forever



    cults

























    setting the scene.



    L
    Welcome to the first official Amithis Society event of the school year! The scent of crisp autumn leaves fill the air and the temperatures are slowly dropping, heralding the start of a new school year as students flock to their separate engagements on a moonlit Friday night. A night of mythic proportions, the annual welcome back masquerade ball has fallen on Friday the 13th of October, but is that a bad omen or simply a coincidence?

    The magic in the air runs high, but tensions from previous years run higher as the new and returning members of the Amithis Society gather for a grand masquerade ball, side by side with a few alumni from previous years, faculty (well, mostly just Dr. Whitlock), and visiting casters who get to experience campus life. They have to behave themselves for now, knowing that in a couple of short hours the non-students will be off, leaving the students themselves to a night of enchantment, excitement, and potential debauchery as the Society members are left to their own devices.

    New friendships are formed, and old bonds are tested. Regardless of how you feel about those around you, the ball is a revered tradition that you don't want to spoil--or do you? As the night goes on, who knows what might happen--and what might be revealed.































intro



events








cast with care,



these are forces
beyond your understanding








time



8:00 pm, 1600h







date



13th October, 2024







location



Oak Grove Conservatory Ballroom







status



closed











cs





lore





ooc

















♡coded by uxie♡
 


















Aurora "Rory" Feng



@
its.rory








































  • 00:42






    casual



    chappell roan










    20:01

    :
    Rory


    new !




    Study buddies?







    19:37

    :
    insta


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    EDDIE
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the world



Rory clasped her hands in front of her, glancing out at the crowd. This was it. Her official speech as the current student leader of the Amithis Society. She cast a glance at Dorian Whitlock, the current faculty advisor of the Society, wishing that he would take matters into his own hands for once instead of letting the student president and vice president handle everything. He really was annoying that way, insistent that she get “hands on experience” (as if Rory was mad about getting more power; it was more of an irk that Dr.Whitlock should try harder at his job). But there weren’t just students out there currently–alumni and a couple of visiting casters were waiting in the crowd as well. She took a deep breath before beginning, glancing down at the cue cards she was clutching in her hands. Luckily, she had tested the microphone earlier to ensure that it was working.

She leaned into the microphone stand slightly, trying to keep the nerves at bay. The crowd wasn’t terribly large, perhaps fifty people at most including the students, alumni, and visiting casters. At least everyone had gotten the hint and dressed nice. Her own dress and makeup felt almost like armor in a way; dressing well had always served to help her feel more in control. And right now, the group was waiting for her to speak.

“Thank you for all attending the Amithis Society’s yearly welcome ball,” she said, glad that her nerves didn’t show through her voice. “To those new to the Society, welcome to the most interesting organization you’ll ever join, and we cannot wait to teach you about the fascinating world of magic. To those returning this year, remember to keep a polite demeanor so we can demonstrate the sophistication of the Society to the newcomers.” Well, at least until the alumni and faculty left early, as was tradition; she made sure to show the unspoken sentiment in her eyes but not her voice. In a couple of hours, the students could do as they pleased without the fear of getting in trouble over it. For the most part, Rory would be turning a blind eye to any possible debauchery that she knew was to come, assuming that no one got seriously hurt or did anything expulsion-worthy. “Last year was certainly a momentous year for the Amitihis Society. Our students made great strides in practical application of magic, and one of the seniors who graduated last year was even recruited to help with groundbreaking research on the topic of abjuration.” Momentous was one word for it, certainly. She only let the frown slide briefly across her face before plastering a pleasant expression on it as she continued.

“I am pleased to be the one serving as your student Society president this year, with Bellamy Hemingsworth as your vice president. If you need anything, the two of us are the people to talk to.” As she spoke his name, Rory gestured in Bellamy’s direction so the newbies would be able to see who she was talking about, though he had been present at the initiation ceremony as well, watching the students give their oaths and blood to bind them. She wouldn’t have chosen anyone else as the vice president, certain that he would live up to the role. “Our first official Society meeting for the year–well, first including the newbies, at least–will be held on October 19th, which is just under a week from today. Everyone’s attendance is expected. More information to come by way of your cards, so keep an eye out.” By this, she meant it would appear written on the back, replacing the original invitation to the Society with an easy bit of illusion magic. It was important for members to keep their original cards for this reason, or they were prone to missing important information. But they were certainly old enough to keep track of their belongings; they were college students, after all. However, it wasn’t as if a fair number of cards had been re-created for those absent-minded enough to lose them.

“As for magic classes and tutoring sessions, those will be discussed during the meeting. If you want to schedule a tutoring session with a specific person, feel free to seek them out to discuss it. In the meantime, we can all enjoy each other’s company, the refreshments, and the music.” She smiled out at the guests before closing her brief opening statements. Though Rory could be said to be a very sociable person, she didn’t love public speaking, so she kept her speech short and to the point. “Once again, congratulations to the new members and welcome back to the returning members. It’s coming to be a great year! If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to come to me about it, and have a lovely evening, everyone. You deserve it.” Well, most of you, she couldn’t help but think as she saw Mallory out of the corner of her eye. But she was poised enough not to show her disdain on her face.

After she finished her speech, Rory left the microphone, walking over to where Bellamy stood with a relieved sigh. At least that was done and she could try to enjoy herself now. “Thank god I’m done with public speaking for the night,” she sighed, glancing at him. “Now all we have to do is make sure everyone else keeps it together in front of the adults.” Well, she knew they were technically adults as well, but she figured he knew what she meant. University students and adult adults seemed to be two different things at times, and this event was one of those times for sure. Rory suspected she wouldn’t truly relax until she knew that no one was planning anything particularly stupid tonight, and she figured Bellamy was well aware of that fact. He shared her job of ensuring order here, after all. She took a deep breath, trying to roll the tension out of her shoulders. This would be a good night.








♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:


















vincent wynn



@
vinnyoncanvas








































  • 00:42






    lost the game



    two feet










    8:19

    :
    _MALLORYSRIGHT


    10 hours ago!




    This information could've been more useful TWO HOURS AGO, Vincent.







    16:03

    :
    INSTA


    now !




    Mallory
    liked your photo.










    !












!




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the emperor.



Vincent found the affair of a welcoming ball tedious. Sleeping seemed the better choice, but that was an affair in and of itself. With a slow exhale, blowing the smoke from his lungs skyward, he strolls the grounds of Oak Grove Conservatory at a leisurely pace. He casually lets his gaze wander, searching for the faces of new initiates with an intense gaze—he had his doubts this year. The selection of students left him wavering on potentially useful to won't last a week and that day was creeping ever closer.

Alyssa Kristine de Leon was an interesting case, one Vincent intended to keep a watchful eye on. Her memory was crisp and clear, the girl intently studying the message on the back of her 'The Fool' tarot card when she starts jotting something down. He hadn't needed to push much further into the memory at all to realise her intentions: she was attempting to mimic the spell. Extremely useful, Vincent had thought as he drew his hand away from Alyssa's temple.

Imogen Myers had put up a severe mental block, guarding her secrets carefully until the final moments of his spell when he'd glimpsed into her standing by a river bank, flanked by what appeared to be her parents as they stood, huddled together and waiting for something. Her despair replaced the smoke in his lungs, an unnatural emotion he wasn't able to put a name to at first and later he'd decided on won't last a week.

For Agnes Tanner, Vincent wavered—the sight of her tear streaks down her face, looking upon the motionless body of a cat—it was a reasonable reaction, he'd cried himself as a child over dead pets before he'd come to accept reality as it was. It wasn't until he felt her guilt and shame that the missing puzzle piece clicked into place, she did this—he promptly removed his hand from her head, a smirk playing on his face. If her hands were dirtied once, they could be again. Maybe the Society was less inclined to accept someone so unpredictable, but he'd vouched for her from that moment.

With Desdemona Roth, Vincent was transported to a time on a hot summer day—he watched as a bystander, a young Mona riding her bike with her parents alongside her. A nostalgic and bittersweet taste to the memory. It showed him nothing of consequence, and maybe that was what left him conflicted. She had the potential to be useless, not bound or overruled by emotions, but also nothing at all. In any case, Vincent was somewhat relieved she'd made it into the Society—there was an air of competition rising between them and for that, he felt grateful.

Vincent skipped over Matthew-Rae Windsor altogether, recalling the memory of Mallory-Rae—twin sister of Matthew and short-lived ex of his own—how she'd reacted to the invitation printed on her own tarot card, the smirk on her face as she crumpled it. Confidence resided in her very being and it called out to his own; like calls to like, he remembers telling her, their ambitions mixing together in an overpowering feeling he would've bottled up and gotten drunk off of. He trusted her twin brother would share the sentiment.

As he approached the Ballroom, he spots the unforgettable figure of Mallory—the woman in question. He pinches the cigarette between his thumb and index, taking one last drag before crunching the remnants beneath his freshly-shined shoes. She's stressed, Vincent thought with slight amusement, aiming to distract her—despite an aversion for straying from her thoughts too long—and closes the hurriedly closes the distance as she mingles herself in with the crowd.

"Mallory, my dear," his fingers wrap around the hand holding her drink, bringing it to his mouth to take a rushed sip of the liquid. He takes in the black disjointed wires of her mask, a chaotic edge to the framing of her heart-shaped face. "Beautiful as ever. Are you aware that there's a Conjuring spell known as 'Wish'." His fingers drop to loop around her wrist loosely, giving her pulse point a small but reassuring squeeze. A soft acknowledgement of her anxiety, letting her know he's more than aware. "'Alter the very foundations of reality in accord with your desires.' Wouldn't that be nice?"

Before Vincent can say much more, Aurora takes to the metaphorical stage and launches into the welcoming speech—he throws Mallory a knowing and teasing look, another ex to hear from, lucky you, and angles his body to face where Aurora stood and demanded attention, his hand returning to his side. He listens more intently than usual, ears catching on the words, last year was certainly a momentous year for the Amithis Society, and cannot help his subtle nod. It was nothing short of eventful. Vincent adjusts the watch on his wrist, the metal on his skin a sudden and discomforting sensation.

At mention of tutoring sessions, his posture straightens and he turns his gaze down towards Mallory. If you want to schedule a tutoring session with a specific person, feel free to seek them out to discuss it. He wondered if that would shift between himself and Mallory. The nights became less boring and lonesome with her cross-legged on the leather couches with him, pouring over magical texts and practicing enchantments between them. Dare he say it, he'd become slightly addicted to those nights.

Aurora concludes her speech and Vincent turns his gaze back to the group of fifty or so students amongst them with a mask of indifference. "I'm sure you have many thoughts. What has you so wound up?"








♡coded by uxie♡


 


















Alyssa de Leon



@
lystofall








































  • 00:42






    karera



    bini










    13:21

    :
    Irenewashere


    new !




    don't forget, party starts at 9 see you tonight







    9:07

    :
    insta


    new !




    Sascha
    liked your post.










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the fool.



Alyssa shifted uncomfortably where she was standing, picking at the cloth of her long gloves. This wasn't her usual style of partying— with those, she could dress however she wanted to and barely anyone would bat an eye. Here? It felt so stuffy that it was almost too suffocating to bear.
They have to do this every year?
 Unfortunately, Alyssa hadn't even experienced attending formal events like these. She had failed to grab the chance for her friends' debut parties nor did she go to any of her high school dances, but she imagined those would still pale in comparison to this.

Much like the first time she had ever stepped foot on Oak Grove Conservatory, Alyssa felt completely out of her depth. What was the saying again? Something about Icarus flying too close to the sun? But it was mandatory attendance and she wouldn't want to disappoint as fresh blood from this society. At the very least, she knew that Sascha and Eddie were somewhere there, and Max too. Maybe Sydney would even take pity on her and let her tag along until she was much more comfortable but her roommate hadn't even arrived yet as far as she knew. Sydney was still at their room by the time Alyssa had headed off.

Aurora Feng took to the stage and the murmurs of the people attending died down. As she began speaking, Alyssa listened carefully. Huh, so this society really was doing everything under the cover of secrecy. She imagined being a researcher of magic as a thankless job, only being acknowledged by a select few people in society. Hell, when she was back at home, she barely heard of the magical strides of magicians from other countries.
So it really is a calling card. Useful. Clever.
 Alyssa couldn't help but feel pleased about her deduction. She could recall some of the elders using it to leave messages covertly but this was a lot more permanent than that. Studying it would be a pleasure and adding it to her repertoire wouldn't hurt.

Oh? They were on a tutoring basis in this group? Alyssa wasn't going to be choosy about which person she was going to get some tutoring from. They all seemed like they were capable magicians and she was eager to absorb whatever they could throw at her. Finally, she would be able to advance her magic. No, finally she could use it again. But first, she needed to live through this ball.

There was a rush of relief in her when she realized that none of the older people here knew her. Though, there was a small twinge of disappointment when she realized that her sponsor wasn't in the crowd either— she was sure he was part of the Society. Why else would he have known she was a magician? She shook her head. That didn't quite matter now. Better he was away than here. His presence might just tip people off of her whereabouts and that was not something she wanted to deal with.

God, I need a drink.


A little bit of a buzz wouldn't impair her decision-making in regards to magic, but it would be enough to keep her thoughts firmly on the night.

Alyssa began to wander around the ballroom, avoiding most of the interactions by ducking her head and hurrying god knows where. Finally, she had reached the end of the ballroom with no punch table in sight. Letting out a sigh, she took a spot near the windows to watch the party when she noticed something outside. Under the buzzing lights of the campus's outdoor lighting was a small group of students. She squinted, trying to make out if it was just a curious student trying to peek into the secretive Amithis Society. Though something was familiar with...

Sascha? And is that... couldn't be, right?
 She took another cursory glance around the ballroom before slowly, and sneakily, making her way out. She slowly navigated to where they were, ensuring she wouldn't trip over her own outfit.
"Man, it's so stuffy in there. I don't think I've ever been to a party with so many old people before."
She admitted with a huff. Alyssa knew to respect her elders but the way they looked at her, at all the students, seemed judgemental. Like they were ready to pounce at them for any sign of weakness.
"I've been trying to find the alcohol table for the past like ten minutes and I think I'm going blind."


Well, it was probably where the bulk of the people were and she did not want to deal with that alone.
"Have any plans on returning?"
She asked, eyeing the weed pen that they held onto. Were they even in any condition to go back? Surely they were.
"I wonder if we'll be left alone later... can't party properly when we're supposed to be the picture of decorum."









♡coded by uxie♡


 
Last edited:
Max Maguire
king of swords
welcome ball
unsure
outfit
mentions

hotsauce hotsauce lostbird lostbird anyasjoy anyasjoy minajesty minajesty
Max ran cold water over his face and then buried it in a paper towel. He'd made the mistake of helping set everything up for the Welcome Ball in his suit. The only concession he'd made was taking off his jacket and mask. Now, his naturally tan complexion was a little dewy and pink from getting overheated. But someone had to hang the banners off a ladder, and everyone enjoyed playing "Not it" while he wasn't there to participate. He knew they did that because he wouldn't stomp his foot and demand they reassign him. No, he'd sigh and climb up the ladder, balancing with every clumsy fiber of his being.

He readjusted the bowtie to lay flush with the collar of his white button-up. Maybe a bowtie was silly, but it was what he found in the prop closet of the drama department. That, along with the jacket, was shiny blue and cream and emulated ocean waves when the light hit it just right. He had owned the dress shirt and pants. He found some lovely black suspenders while thrifting with Lys for the rest of the outfit. The shoes were his father's. And the mask? It had been from a matching set that Theresa had found. She'd planned for them to wear these together this year. His had blue gems embedded in it, whereas hers would have had red. He looked over it, perched next to the sink, shining in the pale light of the bathroom. Max then looked back up at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his short blond-red hair and over his scruffy but well-maintained beard. He thought he looked suitable enough. He was not as fancy as many people here, but he didn't want to be fancy. He just wanted to fit in. Max pulled the jacket on, clinging tightly to his broad shoulders and falling over his chest neatly. He had no idea who in the drama club had been built similarly to him, but he was glad for it.

Max then brought the mask to his face and firmly tied the silk ribbon around his head. He then readjusted it in the mirror, only for a sharp edge of the mask to brush along his cheek. He winced. Of course, the mask would cut him. Why not? It wasn't a deep cut, so with luck, he wouldn't have to worry about blood pouring down his face. Hopefully, it wasn't indicative of how this evening would go.

He pushed through the door, went down the hall, and returned to the ballroom. He quietly entered as Rory had begun her speech. Max half listened as his eyes scanned the room. He was looking for someone, but at the same time hoped he wouldn't see him. It was so stupid. He was so stupid. You haven't spoken since you chewed his dad out in front of everyone. And honestly, did he want to talk to him? The only thing that had changed between them was the death of Theresa. That wasn't going to repair any of the damage that had been done to his heart. It was okay; Max always told himself he was made of tougher stuff. Things like that... well... it was how life was.

After Rory's speech, the music picked up again, and people began chatting and dancing again--the usual "polite society" fair.

Max pulled his jacket in and went to button it, but found the button missing. Of course, it was. He'd borrowed this from the drama department. Did he expect them to keep immaculate care of their costumes? They barely took care of their livers. Speaking of which, the pomp and circumstance around here was practically stifling. Rory had mentioned them being on their best behavior and that there would be time for festivities later, but the entire event felt like hanging wallpaper. Had the previous years been like this? In the first year, Max was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. The second year, he'd been welcoming his sister into it. Last year, he'd had a date. He was a senior this year, and everything felt so--done. At that moment, he looked up and caught Vin looming over Mallory like an old painting of Death hanging over someone--well--not dead. He glanced away, not wanting to catch her eyes. Max doubted that Mallory wanted to speak to him, but he really did not want to chance it.

In probably the bravest move a grown-ass man the size of a doorway with two left feet could do, he took the hand of a--what he assumed to be an alumnus-- a woman and swept her onto the dance floor. She'd been anxiously hovering around the edges, and he honestly hoped that meant she'd wanted a partner. And when she didn't cuss or slap him, he was happy that he assumed correctly. Maybe this would get his mind off of things. Of course, then came the issue that he did not know how to dance. He was good as long as he didn't have to twirl and foist her into the air. It wouldn't be very "high society" to hurl an alumnus across the ballroom.
coded by natasha.

[/QUOTE]
 


















Sascha Vogel



@
midnight.gospell








































  • 00:42






    teenagers



    mcr










    13:21

    :
    Agnes


    3 hours ago !




    i'm bringing my weed pen







    9:07

    :
    insta


    new !




    Lys
    liked your post.










    !












!




details













the moon.



Sascha had no idea how Batman did it. The mask had started to scratch at his skin before he even arrived at the ball. It was more uncomfortable than he had expected—god knows how anyone could fight the Joker under such conditions—though he supposed Batman didn't buy his masks on sale at Party City. Luckily, before he even had the chance to step into the ballroom, Agnes had given him an incredibly good reason to push his mask up onto his forehead and indulge in a moment of relief.

The small group stood just outside the entrance, passing a much appreciated weed pen back and forth. He reached forward to take it between his fingers as it came around towards him again.

"Bless your soul, Agnes,"
Sascha said with the sincere gratitude of a starving man being offered a five course meal.
"I'm so glad the society finally brought you on board."
He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and released a puff of smoke from his mouth. The effects were already smoothing his nerves—not that his nerves needed much smoothing in the first place.

Sascha had never found social events as nerve-wracking as others did, particularly not ones like these, which were all fanfare and small talk. Perhaps at his first ball, back when he had first received his own tarot card, he had had butterflies in his stomach, but even then, the fluttery feeling was out of giddiness and excitement, not apprehension. Sascha's attitude was obvious in the way he carried himself, his shoulders relaxed and his posture verging on slouching. His outfit was reasonably high class, though the top buttons of his white dress shirt were undone and his suit glittered like a very conspicuous disco ball. The batman mask resting in his chestnut curls spoke volumes about how seriously he was taking this gathering as well.

He didn't expect anything entertaining from tonight. If anything, he needed the weed in his system in order to make the speeches and small talk more interesting. Formal events could be so incredibly boring, especially when the society's supervisors would be lurking about for the first half of it. He had been in the society long enough to know the ins and outs. He didn't need to sit through another introduction. He was sure that if anything important was announced, he would find out about it sooner or later.

It seemed as though Sascha was missing one of said introduction speeches already, his gaze drifting to the window as the murmur of the crowd went silent inside and Rory's faint voice drifted outside. He caught bits and parts of the speech, snorting in amusement at the word sophisticated and taking another drag of the pen.

So sophisticated.

At least they were outside, away from view. Sascha peered in through the window once more as the speech came to a close, nearly choking on his next lungful of smoke as his gaze caught on a familiar face. He squinted dramatically, nearly pressing his face against the glass. It was difficult to pinpoint the features hidden underneath the mask, but as the figure approached, she confirmed his suspicions.

"No fucking way,"
he said, his face breaking into a grin as she stepped out and approached the circle, posing her complaints—all of which he agreed with wholeheartedly. Lys was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He had never seen her this dressed up either.

"Lys,"
Sascha greeted enthusiastically, slinging his arm around her shoulders with all the charm of a used car salesman.
"Fancy meeting you here, I see the society has finally sunk their claws into you."
He flashed an easy smile and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"Don't worry about what Rory says, the picture of decorum is overrated. Welcome to the real party."


Sascha held out the weed pen for her to take, his arm slipping off her shoulders and back down at his side, where he shoved his hand casually into his pants pocket.

"You're in luck, Agnes is a newbie too—"
Sascha nodded to one of the other students standing by him.
"And she brought something better than alcohol, here."










♡coded by uxie♡


 



















  • Edmund "Eddie" Beaumont



    @
    herecomesthesun








































    • 00:42






      weekend



      clubhouse










      20:01

      :
      syd


      new !




      eds i need your help asap!!







      19:37

      :
      insta


      new !




      lys
      liked your post.










      !












    !




    details













    the sun




    Eddie glanced at Sydney with a raised eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips. Between the two of them, they could surely figure out how to properly glamor a dress. It was not very surprising that his friend had left things to the last minute, and he had made sure to say the prompt “I told you so”s when he heard that she needed help. But of course, he was here helping her out anyway. It wasn’t as if he would ever leave her high and dry, especially when it came to one of his areas of expertise such as fashion. Eddie considered himself somewhat of a fashion expert, and figured that was evidenced by the fact he was all dressed and ready to go, dark maroon suit jacket sleeves pushed up as he worked on some runes. His gold wire mask was sitting a few feet away, ready for him to don again before the duo went to leave. Assuming neither of them forgot it in the dorm room.

    The two of them had ideas for what the dress itself was going to look like splayed out across the floor, working in Sydney’s dorm since her roommate had already gone out to the party. Eddie wondered briefly if Lys might have preferred hanging out with them as they frantically tried to get their shit together instead of going to a ball populated by mostly near-strangers and felt a bit bad for not texting her about it. Oh well. She was friendly; she was probably already finding someone to start chatting with and would hopefully not have to wait much longer for Eddie and Sydney to arrive. He chewed his lip in thought, nodding to himself.

    “Okay, I think we’ve got it worked out this time,” he said, brows knitted in concentration. He was known to make some…interesting faces when he was really focusing on something such as art or fashion, thinking quite deeply as he imagined each possibility in front of his eyes. But this time was surely the charm, right? Sydney was going to be the belle of the ball or Eddie would eat his own belt, as he threatened to do if any creation of his turned out less than fabulous. It was a silly (and stupid) threat, but that had never stopped him before. Silly and stupid was basically his prerogative at social events as soon as he got some alcohol in him. And these stuffy balls were definitely a drinking situation, though he had to admit that he loved the social and fashion aspects of them despite their flaws.

    “Are you ready to look amazing?” he asked with a smirk, placing his arm on his hip as he gestured to Sydney’s clothes with his other hand. His assuredness filled the space, Eddie being certain of both of their abilities and fashion sense, and he knew that if this went wrong he would be quite annoyed for the rest of the night about it. His dramatics were well-documented amongst those he was close to, several of his current friends having mistaken him for a drama student at first due to his antics. But no, he was just very invested in everything he did and a bit of a drama queen. But Sydney loved him for it, and at least he figured that she better, considering how much entertainment he brought to a function. And tonight he wanted jaws to drop as they walked in the door.








    ♡coded by uxie♡

 


















agnes tanner



@
agnest








































  • 00:42






    the spins



    mac miller










    20:01

    :
    camille


    new !




    i’m high and kind of scared







    19:37

    :
    finsta


    new !




    Sascha
    liked your post.










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the devil



Agnes tugged at the collar of her shirt, the crisp, white fabric held snugly against her neck by a matching bowtie. The October night’s air was tinged with a chill, though not enough of one to warrant the many layers that the young woman had donned for the formal occasion. She’d been so adamant about not wearing a dress, but this seemed somehow worse in hindsight—her skin felt hot and itchy, uneasiness settling in her chest despite the earthy-scented smoke billowing out before her from parted lips. Inside, the party churned with bright vitality, but Agnes shied away from its welcoming arms like a plant shriveling beneath the heat of the sun. She may have been one of the supposed “guests of honor,” but she could evade her inevitable entrance just a moment or two longer.

Arching an eyebrow, Agnes cast Sascha a sideways glance—out of all of the Society’s withstanding members, he was one of the most accepting, even stooping so low as to go beneath the watchful eyes of the Amithis to indulge with Agnes in her bad habits on occasion.

“What soul? The Devil doesn’t have one of those, right?” It was an odd thing to be labeled and put into a box, and this one was proving to be particularly difficult to contort herself to fill. Was this what they really thought of her? Agnes knew next to nothing about tarot cards and what they symbolized, but being dubbed as the ruler of Hell couldn’t possibly have been a good thing.

“At least someone is.”

Agnes followed Sascha’s gaze through the window, where Aurora could be seen standing at the podium, her figure illuminated by the glistening chandeliers above. She looked so regal—statuesque, even, as if the ruffles of her dress and high cheekbones had been carved from marble. It came as no surprise that she’d been appointed leader of their secret society—she embodied the very idea. She smiled as she engaged the audience before her, winning them over with her easy charm.

She was everything that Agnes was not.

What am I even doing here?

As Sascha coughed, startled, Agnes wondered for a moment if she’d vocalized her concern until he addressed an approaching fellow member. Agnes didn’t recognize the young woman upon first glance, but there was something innately familiar about her all the same—surely, they must have crossed paths at some point during the brunette’s two years at Oak Grove.

“Alcohol’s overrated,” Agnes agreed with a grin, raising her pen—now back in her possession—toward the girl, Lys, as she neared. “Weed never turned anyone into an angry drunk.”

In her pocket, Agnes’ phone buzzed for the fourth time since she’d stepped outside. Finally, she relented, fingers digging the device from its fabric prison it and lifting it into view. She squinted at the screen, glowing vibrantly against the backdrop of the dark campus, to see a series of messages from Camille, who didn’t seem to be dealing with her time in the clouds well.

“Shit,” Agnes muttered. “Duty calls. I’ll catch you guys later.” She offered a parting nod as she retrieved her pen from Lys’ grasp, taking one final drag before returning it, along with her phone, to the safety of her pants.

Agnes pulled her disguise down as she passed through the ballroom’s door. Despite her complaints, she’d leaned into the Amithis-dubbed persona; dark, glitter-rimmed eyes peered at the crowd from behind a black mask, thick horns protruding from the front edges and curving over the top of her curls.

If the Society wanted a devil, she’d give them one.

“Hey,” Agnes greeted Camille as the woman at last came into view, hands extending to steady her shoulders. “How’re you holding up, trooper? You want something to eat? It’ll make you feel better.” She turned toward the blonde that’d been keeping her roommate company in her absence. “I’m Agnes, by the way. Has it been bad? I didn’t know she couldn’t handle her weed.”








♡coded by uxie♡


 
































  • bellamy hemingsworth





    @
    bellsworth








































































    • 00:42











      everybody's lonely





      jukebox the ghost



















      20:01


      :
      rory



      new !







      You're getting here early, right?













      19:37


      :
      insta



      new !







      Celeste
      liked your post.


















      !






















    !







    details























    strength.





    Bellamy adjusted his mask for the fifth time since he’d put it on that evening, the leaf detailing digging into his skin. It was a consequence he hadn’t considered when he’d picked it out originally. He’d just been looking for something different – he felt like his masks in the past had been rather simple. He figured as vice president this year, he could play into the masquerade a little more than he had before. If the student leaders couldn’t, who would?


    The mask he had chosen had been elegant, showy and gold with branch and leaf detailing covering most of his face, leaving his nose and mouth exposed. It was admittedly a cool mask, but he couldn’t help but feel ridiculous, like he always did during these formalities required by the Society.


    As Rory began her speech at the front of the room, Bellamy stood off to the side where she’d left him and tried to stand tall and proud and not at all like his outfit was making him uncomfortable. He knew some members of the Society were displeased with his place in leadership and he wasn’t about to give anyone a reason to doubt him. He may not always be the strongest student, but he made up for it in his ability to inspire camaraderie in his fellow students. Or whatever bullshit Professor Whitlock had told him to get him to agree to this.


    As Rory called him out, he offered a wave to the crowd so that the newbies could find him easily – despite their first meeting, he was sure it would be hard to remember all the new names and faces. Especially with the revelation of magic on top of everything. Bellamy remembered his first year and the overwhelm that came with the Society. Especially for the freshman just getting used to being away from home, though that hadn’t been a problem for him. His sister was his home, and she’d come with him.


    Thank god I’m done with public speaking for the night.


    He knew that the President put a lot of pressure on herself to get things done, and talking in front of a crowd of any size would have been stressful for him. He was honestly glad that she was the one doing it.


    “You did well, though. Hopefully everyone will be on their best behavior tonight…”
    Unlikely.


    He stood next to her for a few moments while they surveyed the crowd from the front of the room, at the stragglers who had already begun to dance. He noticed Max, who’d showed up early (like he did to most events) to help them decorate the plain ballroom into the almost elegant space that it was now, twirling an alumnus around the dance floor rather gracelessly. However, his attempt was more admirable than all the students clinging to the sides of the floor avoiding entry to the dance floor. Bellamy admired it, even though he winced when he caught sight of Max stepping on his partner’s feet.


    He turned his gaze back to Rory,
    “Should we do a sweep around the room and check in on everyone? Make sure they are playing nice with the newbies?”



    He hoped nobody was being mean but sometimes it was hard to tell with this crowd. Whether you were deemed acceptable or not sometimes seemed random. He wasn't any different, and had his own reasons for being suspicious of any one of the fresh faces. Each new person let into the fold was a potential threat if they were to expose the Society or the magic they held secret. Or worse, they could be joining to use the magic with less than pure intent, something Bellamy hadn't considered a particular threat until last year's whole fiasco...


    Until he knew they could keep a secret and their intentions were pure, he would keep a close eye on them.















    ♡coded by uxie♡





 



















  • Aurora "Rory" Feng



    @
    its.rory








































    • 00:42






      are you satisfied?



      marina










      20:03

      :
      Bellamy


      new !




      Yeah, of course







      19:37

      :
      insta


      new !




      EDDIE
      liked your post.










      !












    !




    details













    the world



    Rory glanced at her friend as he spoke, relieved that her portion of the night was done. Well, more or less. The president’s duties were never truly done in her mind; Dr. Whitlock would take no blame if things went awry, which made sense considering his annoyingly hands-off approach to being the faculty mentor of the Society. So the summation of tonight’s gathering, whether good or bad, was liable to fall onto her shoulders more than anyone else’s. Which meant that at least for the next hour or so, Rory had to keep a clear head on her shoulders and ensure that people weren’t being total idiots in front of the professors and alumni. After that, she could mostly relax, but even then, if people were spectacularly dumb, it would still fall to her. Whatever. She was determined to have fun tonight no matter what and do her best to keep her peers in line. No matter what it took.

    “Should we do a sweep around the room and check in on everyone? Make sure they are playing nice with the newbies?”

    At Bellamy’s suggestion, Rory nodded. It was a sensible thing to say, which seemed in line with her vice president. A wave of relief passed through her at the idea that someone as responsible as him was the vice president this year. She wasn’t sure what she would do if the job somehow fell to someone like Vincent or Mallory. Might as well burn the Society down at that point. Dramatics aside, she knew that despite the misgivings of a few of the others in the Amithis Society, Bellamy was the best choice for the job. The thought that she wasn’t doing this all alone did make her feel quite a bit rejuvenated.

    “Sounds good to me. I don’t know about you but I hardly trust our returning members to be welcoming.” She let out a small chuckle at this, trying not to take herself too seriously despite knowing she likely was. Better safe than sorry, though. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, letting herself have that anxious tick before she smiled at her companion. “Let’s get moving, then.”








    ♡coded by uxie♡

 


















mallory-rae ♡︎



@
_mallorysright








































  • 01:14






    labour



    paris paloma










    20:01

    :
    vinnyoncanvas


    8 hours ago !




    My information is always useful.







    19:37

    :
    iphone


    3 hours ago !




    VINCENT
    hearted your message.










    !












!




details













♖the tower.



You’re stressing out. A familiar mantra Mallory would think as she pressed her fingers to her temple, attempting to ease the tension of a headache beginning to form. Where is he? He’s late—god dammit. Her lips pursed with irritation, arms crossed tightly across her chest as she maneuvered through the growing crowd, eyes scanning every face in impatience. This is so typical of him.

An entire event was unfolding around her, the energy of the room buzzing with lively conversations and a soft hum of music, yet Mallory couldn’t bring herself to care. Her focus was elsewhere—fixed, as always, on the idea of seeing Matthew in person. She was looking forward to it though, to the idea of judging which fresh faces the Society had decided to welcome with open arms.

Lately, her patience had been worn dangerously thin, a short fuse constantly smoldering, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. It wasn’t difficult to trace the cause. Her stare flickered toward their Vice President, standing stiffly to the side while an assistant fiddled with the microphone. The sight only deepened her sense of dread—this was shaping up to be a long day.

For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of slipping outside to steal a breath of fresh air, maybe reclaim a fragment of her calm. But just as she was about to move, a familiar voice cut through the room, halting her in her tracks. She bit back the reflexive smile that threatened to spread across her lips, willing herself to remain composed.

Instead, Mallory turned around to shoot Vincent an unamused look, her sharp eyes narrowing for just a moment. Yet, despite herself, her lips curled into a faint smirk, betraying her attempt at indifference. With a dismissive roll of her eyes, she opted for silence, letting the air hang heavy between them as he carried on. She didn't have to say a word as their gazes subtly sized each other up—wandering from Vincent’s outfit all the way up to the mask adorning his face. The color gold really did bring out the blue in his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, she tuned into the ambient noises that happened around her, though her awareness zeroed in on the way Vincent’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. The squeeze was firm, grounding—but to her, it only amplified her vulnerability. Oh, wouldn’t that be nice?

She scoffed softly, her mouth already open to toss out a sarcastic quip—something like, Yes, this event is already a masterpiece of chaos, which you love so much. But before the words could escape, the welcoming speech began, slicing clean through her thoughts like nails dragging across a chalkboard. The voice—a little too formal, a little too insistent—sent an unwelcome prickle of annoyance up her spine. Her lips pressed together in a grimace as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to block out the world, or at least Aurora’s grating tone. It’s way too early for this kind of noise. Especially from Aurora, of all people.

Her thoughts swirled as Aurora’s voice carried over the crowd, insistent and loud, each word dripping with the pomp she’d come to expect. Yet, despite the internal groan clawing at her composure, Mallory remained steadfast in her determination to appear attentive—appearances mattered, even if they came at the expense of her sanity.

Flicking her gaze to Vincent, she caught his amused glimpse, a look of faux-exasperation flashing briefly across her face as a slight snort carelessly escaped from her lips before she quickly schooled her expression back into its usual composed mask. Of course, she thought, already certain of what was running through his head. He was no doubt finding amusement in the whole ordeal, lucky me, indeed.

Familiar with this song and dance between them, she moved to stand beside him, her hip jutting slightly beneath the shimmering fabric of her black dress—glass of wine in hand and at the ready to drown out her voice if needed.

Last year was certainly a momentous year for the Amithis Society. That’s one way of putting it, the thought was dry and clipped, twirling the stem of her flute glass as she let the words sink in. Without missing a beat, she tilted her head toward Vincent and spoke just loud enough for him to hear, "Guess it was a good choice to wear black—mourning and all."

As the speech concluded, Mallory let out a loud sigh, muttering the word finally under her breath. She turned to face Vincent, one brow arching when she caught him scanning the room with a sharp, focused gaze. What has you so wound up?

“I haven’t seen Matthew yet—he’s late,” she said, drawing out the last word with annoyance. She sucked her teeth, her mouth twisting to the side as her eyes roamed the room once more. “Have you?” She didn’t press further, knowing Vincent would tell her if he wanted to. Something as mundane as her brother’s whereabouts wasn’t exactly a priority for him—nor, truthfully, did she expect it to be. Despite their…complicated relationship, she knew he didn’t owe her anything.

Her head tilted slightly as her gaze shifted, lingering onto him now. “Hm, you cleaned up nicely,” she remarked, a teasing lilt to her tone. “You should consider helping out with the Welcome Ball next time—I had to be in the same room as Maxim, of all people.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory, clearly unimpressed, and made no effort to look at the sandy-haired blonde fumbling clumsily with the ladder earlier that morning. Ugh.

Without warning, she grabbed Vincent’s wrist, her grip firm as she pulled him through the crowd. Her sharp eyes darted around, scanning the sea of finely dressed guests for any sign of her twin. But as they moved, an unsettling prickling sensation crawled over her skin—paranoia, unfamiliar and unwelcome, tightening in her chest. For the first time in her life, she felt distinctly…watched.

“Can’t help but feel like we’re being looked at more than usual,” her tone was low, though her eyes flicked around restlessly. She cast Vincent a sideways glance, a slight smirk tugging at her lips despite her unease. “Bet you’re living for it. You pissed anyone off, and so soon? Impressive.”








♡coded by uxie♡


 


















imogen myers



@
imogen.opinions








































  • 00:42






    gilded lily



    cults










    07:03

    :
    det.patillo


    20 mins ago!




    good luck today mog







    07:20

    :
    INSTA


    8 mins ago !




    Hank Patillo
    liked your photo.










    !












!




details













temperance.



"Oops." Imogen bursts through her dormitory, paying careful mind to not clumsily trip in her silver strapped heels as she rushes towards her bed pushed in the far corner and snatches up the phone she'd left behind. Unable to keep the distasteful scowl from her face as she stares down at the device, Imogen sweeps out of the dorm as quick as she'd returned and navigates the halls until fresh air sweeps over her, eliciting a full-body shiver.

A shawl would've been smart. And a little pretentious. She casts a look over the land Oak Grove sat on, the architecture reminding her of a mix of southern gothic and greek mythology tied into one. Huffing a small laugh as she realises she'd fit right in with a little pretentious-ness. Walking the designated pathway at a deliberately relaxed pace, she tucks the phone away into her purse. Instead pinching at the corner of her Temperance tarot card, pulling it free slightly and taking note of the description on the backing of the card, detailing the time and place for the welcoming ball.

There was a solid two weeks of weighing the pros and cons of being swept up into a secret society she had no real information about, save for the little she'd been fed over those weeks, and it was enough to activate her curiosity. Imogen wasn't a slave for a good mystery unlike Hank Patillo—her detective joined the force solely to put pieces together. No, she joined to fuel a long-lasting vendetta she saw no real end towards. A secret society where magic was concerned was bound to give her the tools to seek some end.

Imogen zips the purse closed with an air of boredom and drops the pouch to hang from a silver chain looped around her bare shoulder, better be drinks at this shindig. Now with a free hand, she situates the mask she'd held loosely on her face, pinning the corners into her hair—blonde strands fall around the edges, camouflaging where the mask ends and begins. It was far from conspicuous, even someone without the slightest attention to detail would place her easily, an idea she was banking on; she had nothing to hide, but maybe others did.

Along the path, Imogen becomes keenly aware she's not alone as footsteps sound behind her, the crunch of small rocks beneath heels giving away a girl with brown waves of hair and a fitted red dress. She slows her pace, allowing the girl to catch up—her attention elsewhere. She inspects her face, struck by the tender warmth of her soft features but noticed the faraway gaze in her blue eyes. "Whoa, hey. Are you, um... good?"

Music reaches her ears, a persistent rhythm carried by the wind. Her face turns towards the noise for a fraction of a second and straight back to the girl, she's high as a kite, I can't just leave her and from the looks of her dress and bangs pinned away from her delicate face, she is clearly invited to this party. "Right, well. Let's just... get you inside." Her hand is drawn to the girls' side, winding an arm around her waist to guide her by both elbows. "Preferably to where the food is."

Weaving through the ballroom and the splattering of society members, Imogen is thankful for the added height of her heels, peering above the heads of others in search of something to absorb what was flowing through this girls' bloodstream. Spotting a table with finger-food, she steers them both with a quickened pace, half-aware of her roommate, Aurora Feng, taking the metaphorical stage to commence a welcoming speech.

"Here." She plucks a lemon tart from its casing, pressing the pastry to the girls lips. "Eat, please."

She half-listens, more concerned with making sure the girl she force fed wouldn't choke around the pastries she hands to her one at a time. Part of her becomes slightly amused at the sight of crumbled flakes stubbornly clinging around her naturally pink lips.

"If you want to schedule a tutoring session with a specific person, feel free to seek them out to discuss it." Imogen scowls at the mention of a tutor, recalling when she'd met Vincent and how he'd pried inside of her mind, the feel of his fingers pinching and pulling at memories she desperately attempted to keep hidden. Anyone but him, her eyes search for him, finding his imposing stature remarkably quick, only to settle at the person at his side. And her.

Mallory-Rae Windsor, her other roommate, dressed to the nines in a dress resembling the night sky, dotted with stars. Her mask barely conceals her face, tilted towards Vincent as she speaks. Not fooling me, Imogen thinks defiantly, I know you're hiding something.

The girl beside her taps away on her phone, sending off a text and by the end of the speech, Imogen reluctantly drags her lingering gaze from Mallory and reaches behind her acquaintance for an empty glass, filling it absent-mindedly, her thoughts far too loud to focus on what beverage she'd chosen.

"Hey."

Imogen pivots slightly at the new voice, her attention settling on a girl dressed with an intent to deny expectations, immediately drawing a reluctant smile from her—the mask is cool, maybe on the nose, but she appreciated the sincerity. She watches the exchange in how she addresses the girl with her head in the clouds, sipping at the drink until a question is directed at her, “I’m Agnes, by the way. Has it been bad? I didn’t know she couldn’t handle her weed.”

"Imogen." She introduces herself, lifting the glass in an effort to hide the clear amusement—she didn't want the girl beside her to feel so utterly embarrassed. "Force-fed her some pastries. Not bad, so far. Uh—" Imogen cuts herself off, gesturing the hand clutching the stem of her glass towards the crowd of society members dispersing after the speech. "Have you been part of this long? Either of you, I mean." She cuts a look at the girl, wide-eyed and barely keeping it together. "I'm new."








♡coded by uxie♡


 


















Alyssa de Leon



@
lystofall








































  • 00:42






    karera



    bini










    13:21

    :
    Irenewashere


    new !




    don't forget, party starts at 9 see you tonight







    9:07

    :
    insta


    new !




    Sascha
    liked your post.










    !












!




details













the fool.



"You would have known if you went to the induction ceremony."
Alyssa said with a roll of her eyes with the bite of a small, harmless ant. Nevertheless, she elbowed her friend lightly as his arm settled on her shoulders.
"You and Eddie being here says it all, honestly."
She had many fond memories of their presence of their party hopping— practically vibrating as the lives of the party, or rather, the chaos of the party once alcohol and drugs were injected into them.

Her eyes twinkled as Agnes was reintroduced to her. Alyssa had met her in passing and she was sure that Agnes was high off her mind whenever they met at parties.
"Always the provider, Agnes. Pleasure."
She winked at her fellow new inductee as she took the weed pen. There was a moment when a voice in her head wondered if this was sanitary and safe. Probably not.
Definitely not.
Still, she took a puff and let it settle in her and obediently handed it back to Agnes.
"Good luck."
She offered and watched as she headed off. One hit wasn't nearly enough but it helped.
"Hope there isn't trouble for her. I like her around."
Alyssa hummed. It wasn't like she and Agnes were particularly close, but it would certainly help to have more easygoing people around to balance the expectations of this society.

She regarded her friend for a moment. Idly, she wondered how long Anges and Sascha had been staying outside and just getting high while the party was starting.
"Cool mask, by the way. I had to grab this by the discount shop and paint it over myself."
Alyssa huffed as she tapped her mask. It was a blessing she had a few friends in the fine arts department that was willing to lend a hand for the party.
"I thought it was supposed to be all fancy schmancy but it looks like I didn't have to stress so much, yeah?"


Her eyes gravitated back to the ballroom where the guests mingled with the students but mostly each other. With how secretive this society was, she couldn't help but wonder if most of the members were legacy children. Surely, magic here was also passed down from one person to another? She turned back to Sascha. She could ask him and he wouldn't hound her on it... right?
"Hey Sascha..."
just ask him, it'll be fine.


A hand on her head, an easy smile on a face, and a reassuring timber to a voice.

Alyssa shifted her weight and crossed her arms.
"What kind of magic are you good at?"
Her grin grew wider as her eyes glinted with a familiar look of mischief.
"Can you like... turn water into wine?"









♡coded by uxie♡


 


















matthew-rae



@
_matthewswrong








































  • 00:42






    the view between villages



    two feet










    8:19

    :
    _MALLORYSRIGHT


    now!




    you better not be backing out.







    8:19

    :
    MATHIAS


    now !




    meeting next tuesday
    @ 2, don't be late.










    !












!




details













the chariot.



The gentle chime called to him from the pocket of his ironed slacks, its melody sweet and deceptive of a presence that could burn a hole right through the material. Miles between Matthew and Mathias, and yet his father's commanding presence would never be diluted or entirely ignored so long as his son was kept on a leash—and boy, did he make a good lap dog.

Pausing his leisurely stride, Matthew reluctantly reached for his phone and pulled it out, dreading to read the latest message despite the screen instantaneously lighting up in mock recognition of its owner's face. It was habitual to brace for the impact—the usual condescending comments Mathias had to offer him after every repetitive night of networking with men and women with the same bland personalities. One would think that the bitter pill would be easier to swallow with time, but it never did become that.

If anything, it only cut him deeper knowing that his all was never enough.

Where did I fuck up this time? he immediately thought, because it was instilled in Matthew by now; There was something he could have done better. But to his temporarily pleasant surprise, it was nothing but another reminder of when the cycle was expected to repeat. His stomach settled and his shoulders slumped in relief. Mercy came sparingly but when it did, Matthew felt as if he could breathe again.

But it doesn't have to be that way anymore. Lifting his head from his phone, the young Windsor could suddenly hear the faint beats of music seep through the entryway of the ballroom, quieting the anxious heartbeat in his ears. The gentle breeze brushing against his flustered cheeks provided him some grace in grounding him to reality again. All you have to do is walk in and it'll be over. Your life will be yours.

In the midst of lowering his matte-black and gold embellished mask, another text notification called for his attention, causing him to lower his head at the brightly lit screen. Mallory's name prompted a warm smile to appear until he read the actual message. "Oh, shit" 11:56pm was brushing too close to losing his only chance at freedom but his haste was evidently consistent until he found himself pulling the doors to the ballroom open.

Oh.

The interior was cavernous, commanding, and rich with an aura that alluded to its mystique. Illustrious partygoers garbed in their finest wear could make an old money man shrink in insecurity. Matthew did his best to keep up with them all—methodically selecting specific pieces that would compliment the compelling spirit of a chariot—but still, he couldn't help but swallow hard. This is going to be a long night.

Squaring his shoulders to exude more confident, Matthew parted the crowd with his head held high, offering warm smiles to anyone he found himself making eye contact with while simultaneously searching for a specific someone. Granted he was in no rush to face Mallory's wrath, he didn't want to upset his twin further by thinking he had bailed on his promise to take his place within the society. Disappointing people wasn't something he ever wanted to do, but especially not with her.

When the familiar feminine figure reached his line of sight, Matthew pivoted his body with the intentions to move forward until he's forced to stop, a silver platter occupied by flutes of amber-colored drinks nearly colliding with his chest. "Oh—I'm so sorry. But, may I...?" he asked, plucking a flute for himself with a nod in thanks at the departing server.

Cider? Matthew takes a confident sip to coat his dry throat until he finds his eyes widening while he pulls the rim of the glass away from his lips. "Liquor..." he struggles to say, suddenly thankful for the concealing mask. They're all stressed.

Steeling himself to recover from his embarrassing mistake, the Windsor opts to cradle the flute near his chest before finally walking toward his sister and her current company. Save your apology, she doesn't want to hear it. "Business meeting with Mathias...," he begins to explain, internally bracing himself for the classic roll of her eyes that he never quite got used to, before letting his voice trail off to a knowing look. It can't happen again. Not while I'm here now.

It isn't until Matthew sees a tensity in her eyes that doesn't quite reach the smirk on her face that his attention falls into confusion. Stealing a glance at 'Vincent' then turning back to Mallory, he quietly inhales while his eyebrows knit together—impossibly trying to solve a mental puzzle without all its pieces. "...Something I missed?"








♡coded by uxie♡


 
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