Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Bloom
code by Stardust Galaxy
-
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Fandom Divergent: Faction Before Blood // RP Thread
code by Stardust Galaxy
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Officially Unemployed // Erudite to Dauntless
She dashed at him headlong, which, given even his marginal height and weight advantage, was not a good idea. But Ghost always played strategy games with the expectation that his opponent would make the optimal move, and sparring was no exception. He suspected that Cassidy would alter her attack at the last moment, complicate it with something sneaky. But how soon Ghost would be able to read her ulterior motive depended on her level of skill. According to his prediction, Cassidy materialized on Ghost’s glove side with the grace of painted light. Before he had much time to marvel at the fluidity of her transition, she took an experimental swipe with her knife, suddenly too close quarters for Ghost to dodge. He never would have dared to use the glove as a blocker if the knife had a real blade, but short on options and knowing that the weapon was a practice one, he raised the glove to chin level. It was a sloppy block, and the momentum of Cassidy’s strike caused the glove to bounce toward Ghost’s face, but it succeeded in deflecting the blade.
As Cassidy danced out of range, he flashed his eyes toward her face, hoping to read the expression there. But Cassidy’s features were schooled into marble stoicism. If she was disappointed that her attack had failed, she didn’t show it. Which likely meant that she hadn’t invested the full scope of her abilities into it. She skipped lightly from foot to foot, like a boxer eager to put on a show for her audience, or a peacock displaying its plumage. Aware that he might be outmatched, Ghost smiled in spite of himself, enjoying Cassidy’s spirit. Oh, this was going to be fun. “You move very prettily, but do you actually know how to use those weapons? I wonder,” he teased, not meaning any malice by it but hoping to rile a reaction out of Cassidy all the same.
This time, instead of waiting for her, Ghost advanced an attack of his own, tying up Cassidy’s knife with his own as he batted at her with his glove. She brushed it aside with her glove. Her block looked much more polished than his had been, and when Ghost jabbed at her again from a different angle, he was met with the same result. Clearly she was practiced at using the glove as a defensive tool, which piqued Ghost’s interest. That was different. Fighters almost always used the glove as an offensive weapon, one for finding soft flesh and bloodying noses. But if Ghost could ascertain that Cassidy routinely used the glove for blocking and the knife for attacks, he could use that knowledge against her to make her attacks more predictable.
Eager to test his theory, Ghost moved his glove out of the way and left a narrow opening on his right side. Not big enough to arouse suspicion, but an error that could have been made out of carelessness. If Cassidy chose to take it, she would have to launch a cross-body attack with her knife, which would be timelier than simply using her glove to punch. Predictably, Cassidy took the bait, and Ghost used the opportunity to scoop his knife in a low, powerful thrust that should have gutted Cassidy clean through the stomach. But what he couldn’t have predicted was the speed of her counterattack. With surprising strength, Cassidy turned on a forty-five degree angle so that Ghost’s knife missed her by a fingerbreadth. Then she rammed her shoulder into his chest, knocking him off balance. As he stumbled for balance, her knife flickered like white lightning into his side. Shock and pain ripped through him in equal parts, but Ghost knew the pain would have been much greater had the weapon been actually sharp. It felt strange to have been impaled in the side with a knife and there not be a drop of blood to show.
“I was really hoping you’d do that,” Ghost said, smoothing his clothes down while he was still out of range. Although she could have attacked, Cassidy had respectfully remained where she’d been standing at the time of the previous hit, as if to allow Ghost time to recover. “Now I won’t feel so bad about what I’m about to do. My apologies in advance.” His eyes crinkled into a smile that lasted only half a second before he exploded into motion. Whirling his knife to disguise his intention, he darted toward Cassidy low and fast, feigned a blow toward her knife side, but at the last moment crumpled into himself and hit the floor in a ball. Ghost rolled in a somersault, infinitely more reckless toward the possibility of cutting himself with the fake knife than he would have been with a real one, and came up on one knee behind Cassidy. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain, he tapped her lightly on her calf with the flat of his blade, twice, as if to chastise her for letting her guard down. Cassidy spun quickly, and Ghost squeaked as her blade came flying toward his face, flattening himself on the floor as a current of wind parted his hair. Before she could get in a second strike, he rolled to the side and clumsily scrambled to his feet, eyes dancing with mischief at his unorthodox tactic.
Now that the fight had begun in earnest, they circled each other like alpha wolves, daring the other to strike first. A dull throbbing arced up Ghost’s side, a phantom reminder that Cassidy was not an opponent to be underestimated. Whereas Cassidy had been gloating and irreverent at the start of the fight, now her mocha eyes formed angular slits, giving her a decidedly feline look. She waded in cautiously, knife first, sweeping with the weapon to keep Ghost at bay. He parried one of the strikes with his knife, turning Cassidy’s blade aside, and seized upon the opening to whip his left leg around in a roundhouse kick, aiming to snap the top of his foot around the back of Cassidy’s neck and jerk forward. It was a move he’d learned from Randi the hard way. But Cassidy was quick to block, throwing up both her forearms to catch the blow. She retaliated with a quick cut to the exposed outside of Ghost’s thigh. A flinch traveled along his whole body, causing him to very nearly drop his knife.
Sensing an opportunity, Cassidy tried to go back for seconds while Ghost was recovering, stabbing out in a quick, straight thrust like the very first time she had hit him. Knowing that it would be a deadly combo if she landed it, Ghost sidestepped the blow and lashed out with one hand. He was mildly surprised when his attempt to catch Cassidy’s wrist was successful. So was Cassidy, apparently. She pitched forward when he tugged, and Ghost threw everything he had into his subsequent strike. He twisted from the hips as he raised his knee, flinging one arm out for power and raising the other to eye level, not wanting to leave his head exposed if Cassidy had any tricks up her sleeve. With a dark glimmer of satisfaction, his knee sank into the soft part of Cassidy’s stomach, and Ghost watched those catlike eyes flare wide. Cassidy doubled over, and just as she had done before, Ghost backed off, allowing her ample time to compose herself. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said with a casual wave of his hand, hoping his smiling jackassery was enough to disguise the pain from the cut to his thigh. The force of impact from kneeing Cassidy had only aggravated it. “If you thought I wouldn’t hit a woman, I’m sad to say that you gravely overestimated my character.”
Something had become apparent to Ghost throughout their fight. Despite the big game he liked to talk, he wasn’t a particularly seasoned fighter and still had much learning to do. Nonetheless, it was remarkable that Cassidy had managed to keep pace with him, an instructor and retired street rat, trading blow for blow without fail. Either she was a profoundly gifted learner to have absorbed so many fighting tactics from just Phase One of initiation, or she’d had some prior training before initiation.
As they resumed fighting, a fire now burning in Cassidy’s eyes, Ghost thought of asking her where she had trained. And he would have, if breathing weren’t such an ordeal. Cassidy’s face shone with sweat, and from the way that his lungs starved for air, Ghost knew that he looked no better. Exertion weighed down his muscles, and he was endlessly grateful that the heaviest weapon he wielded was a knife, but even raising that was becoming a struggle. Cassidy managed to cut his other leg. He landed another shot to her shoulder. The welts forming on his legs made him rely on kicks and knees less and focus more on using the knife, which he was loath to do because he was starting to suspect that Cassidy’s skill with a knife outmatched his. Which fortified his suspicion that she had indeed received some kind of martial education before transferring to Dauntless. That, or perhaps her childhood had been just as unique as Ghost’s.
The training room doors groaned as they opened, the latch clicking shut just as fast. Keeping one eye on Cassidy, Ghost snuck a glance at the new entrant—but there was none. Instead, he caught a glimpse of canary hair just as Randi vanished into the hall outside. She had left fast and without a word to anyone. Questions reared up inside of Ghost, quickly followed by concern and guilt. He had come to the training arena to hang out with her, after all. Why was she leaving so suddenly? Was his fight with Cassidy taking too long? Could she be jealous that he wasn’t giving her enough atten—
A dark blur caught his eye. Cassidy had dropped to the floor and somersaulted toward him, swinging her legs in an attempt to sweep his. Stupidly, Ghost tried to back up rather than jump the obstacle, but he wasn’t fast enough. He yelped as he fell backward against the floor and wasn’t sure which astonished him more: the speed at which the air left his lungs, or the pain that radiated up his elbow when he smacked it against the mat. Ghost raised his head with some difficulty. The world spun around him, but still he placed his palms against the floor and prepared to stand. He sucked in a breath to speak. “Using my own tactics against me, are—?” A knife appeared at his throat before he finished his sentence. Cassidy crouched beside him, her hair tousled and damp with sweat, blade gleaming milky silver in the light. For a second, the only sound in the training arena was the hum of electricity and both combatants’ labored breathing.
Seeing that he’d been beaten, Ghost’s face broke into a good-natured smile. “Well fought, initiate. But may I make a suggestion?” Before Cassidy could either agree or refuse, he locked his legs around Cassidy’s crouching form and jerked her forward, so that she collapsed with a small squeal on top of his chest. Beneath her weight, the back of Ghost’s head thudded against the mat, sandwiching him between Cassidy and the floor. Her limbs flailed in a panicked scramble until she felt the tip of Ghost’s knife prick her in the side, and she stilled just as he had moments ago. “Never consider the fight over until your opponent is dead,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. Her hair tickled his face. “It doesn’t matter how good a fighter you are if you don’t have the guts to do what’s necessary. Compassion is a good thing, Cassidy. Softness is not. Which are you?” At such close range, he breathed her scent, a fragrance like old books and cologne. Ghost let his knife fall to the mat and smiled again, but this time through obvious pain. “Now get off me, please, before you crack my sternum.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes, raising the valid point that they were in this position because of Ghost’s doing, but complied. Pins and needles shivered up Ghost’s forearms and into his fingers as he tried to sit up, threatening to collapse when he put weight on them. He gathered his legs to stand, but the fight had truly winded him, or maybe it was the drugs still wearing off. Or just general clumsiness. But for whatever reason, he fumbled trying to get to his feet. Cassidy smiled as she watched, but he didn’t think it was out of cruelty. She extended a hand, which Ghost accepted, laughing at his own ineptitude. “Thank you, ma’am. It was a pleasure being your opponent today. I’d love to chat further, but our mutual friend has disappeared, and I want to catch up with her. Hopefully sometime we can spar again and you can tell me where and for how long you trained?” The words were a question but the intonation was a statement. Not giving Cassidy any room to object, he shot her a knowing wink and headed toward the training arena doors at a brisk walk, phone already in hand. His thumbs worked furiously as he sent Randi a text. Hey, where did you go? said the first one. Followed up by: Mind if I tag along? Sorry that my sparring sesh took so long.
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Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Thorn
fraxiom
monkeying around
INITIATE
orin daithi gorman.
coded by natasha.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Shayla
code by Stardust Galaxy
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Charlotte "Charlie" Stark || 20 || Medic || Dauntlessborn
Charlie's heart was pouring out for poor Thorn. As she watched him sit there, she could see under his gaze that he was in a warzone, that he was struggling and wrestling with multiple desires and thoughts and beliefs. She wished she could let him know that it would be okay when he was with her, but she knew that even that couldn't necessarily be true. Thorn had seen her melt down in a pure panic attack before, and he now knew about the reality of her father. He probably didn't trust her to be okay if he shared things with her, and he was probably aware that her father could come at any moment to hurt them, or take them, or kill them. But Charlie knew she could be there for Thorn, she didn't know whether she could give him any words of wisdom, or if she could truly comfort or heal any part of him, but one thing she knew for certain is that she would not run away from him, not from her darling Thorn. Growing up, she had loved spending time with him, and had not cared at all about their differences in ages. In fact, Charlie had spent much more time with those younger than her, or those much older than her, than those her age. The couple exceptions being Caspian, Phillip and occasionally Harper. But on the whole she had spent much more time with Aubrey's peers, with Thorn, Finn, Christian, Blair, Randi, Poppy, Maverick. She may not have gotten particularly close with most of them, but she had spent a good amount of time in their presence's. However, Thorn was the one that she had spent the most one on one time with out of all those names. She had loved to watch him create things, she had enjoyed the soft nature in which he spoke and acted, and how he did not give off the Dauntless attitude but showed a similar aptitude to her - she secretly believed that he had gotten amity in his test, same as her. All this to say, she had always loved him as a close friend, and now, as he sat before her but felt so very far away, she felt stretched and like their bond was tearing through unknown and unhelped ways. Could she do nothing to keep him close to her? Her shoulders tensed in fear and concern, wishing that he would open up, but loathe to force him and hurt him further. If it required a slow hand, then Charlie would take that slow route, she was certain that Thorn would do the same for her. He always had.
"I'm sorry if it seems I'm pushing too far." Charlie said, after a good long silence in which the only noises had been the rustling of her dress in the wind and the water lapping on the rocks and rushing beside them. She didn't meet his gaze as she talked, hoping that it would make him more comfortable. "I just don't want to lose you. You seem so distant." She finally admitted, feeling that it was the only honest and helpful thing she could say. Come back to me. She begged in her heart, and if his eyes had caught hers, it would be unmistakable to see that. I've already lost Caspian. Finn... Aubrey... I can't lose you too. She halfheartedly drew circles on the rock with her finger, leaving no mark but shivering at the rough feeling that it gave her, how it tickled the ends of her fingers. After that admittance the two fell silent for a while, neither seeming to know what to say next, and an awkward air coming about them. As if perfectly timed, a dark cloud rolled past the sun, and threatened to rain on them, and Charlie shivered in response to the cold wind that blew through. It would have been almost like a movie if it had started to rain, but instead the clouds continued moving quickly, and the sun was soon on them again. Charlie took that as a sign to say something, or to simply speak in general. Thorn had commented on the picnic before, and she had never replied. "It was no bother to sort it out, I'd already thought of it at some point. I hope though, that you did not find any cat hair." She said, a light smile coming on her cheeks. Thorn looked at her, their eyes connecting for the first time in a while. He commented that he hadn't known she had a cat. "I haven't, not until this week. Ghost got him for me... We called him Darcy, or well... Mr Darcy. He's quite the terror." She chuckled, knowing that Thorn would understand the reference to the book Pride and Prejudice. When they had been little Charlie had read it to him, probably more than once. Thinking on that a dark blush lighted upon her cheek. "Oh my, I probably tormented you by reading that book, didn't I? How boring that must have been for a young boy." She said, pulling her fingers up to her hair and playing with it awkwardly in a way to soothe her embarrassment. "You should come over and meet him some time..." She felt a loss of energy in her as she finished her sentence, and refrained from speaking for a little while, resorting to eating and drinking what she had brought for the picnic.
As the afternoon dragged on, and little more was spoken of that was very interesting or opening, Charlie had already chosen to just accept that Thorn was not going to talk about how he felt or what was on his mind, and that she just had to be okay with that for the moment, and hope that eventually she would be able to be there for him when he did feel like talking. There was little else she could do. The warm sun kept her smiling though, as it hung high overhead, and she felt a sudden urge to dip her feet in the water, or for that matter simply go for a walk in the river, or right beside it. Instead of speaking, or asking Thorn if he wanted to join her, she simply took off her shoes and slid down the rock gracefully, eliciting a sharp noise from Thorn who must have been distracted and thought she was falling. She giggled softly, flashing him a small smile to show that she was fine. "I'm just a bit warm." She stated, and proceeded to dip her toes into the rushing water. She knew it was not adviseable to swim in this particular section of the water, as there were so many rocks that it would be a statistical improbability to NOT hit one, but it did make for fun walking if one could keep their balance, as there were enough rocks to walk quite confidently down the river. Again, not inviting Thorn, as he should know he would be able to join her if he wanted to, she began to skip over rocks, carefully and occasionally swiftly, and when she would get to a nice on with deep water, she would sit and dip her legs in the water, drawing the skirt of her dress high so that the edges did not get wet. Kicking her feet gently in the water, she stared at the bubbles and ripples and waves that were made as it moved around, underneath, above and even through some of the rocks. Water was so adaptable, and relentless. It didn't slow down just because something was placed in front, it simply found a way around it, and if that was impossible, through immense and continual strength it could bore through even the toughest rocks. She stared at it in awe of this realization, and smiled to herself. She hoped she was like water, that she could adapt, move and find ways around her obstacles, that she could get through anything if given the time. She wondered too, if Thorn was currently more like a rock, and whether right now she just had to be around him, rather than trying to bore through him. She looked back at him, dark brown eyes sparkling in the sun, and gave him a wave. "It's really beautiful down here." She said. Come join me. She thought.
Interacting with: Thorn
Sanctuaryforall1
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Christian "Chris" Parks || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn
Nothing had changed. The admittance of possibly the biggest fear a young person could have, had just so happened to be admitted between the two who might have taken it the best, and had grown the most comfortable with it. There was something sweet about their relationship, Chris and Shay, how no matter what happened they remained the same. It was likely due to the fact that neither party had tried very hard to get to know the other, and somehow, by default, that meant that now they seemed to be closer than most others around them. Shay didn't seem to hold many people close to her anymore, Chris knew that she allowed Lainey to room with her, but she never seemed very attentive towards her, so he surmised they weren't dating, and likely weren't even friends. She mostly seemed to simply love her cat, and maybe her dad. Thus why Chris had suggested the things he had. It wasn't because he was sucking up to Shay, or hoping for things in return. Nor was it because he loved her above all else, or had debts he was paying back. No, Chris offered these things because it seemed right, it seemed decent, and it simply made sense. If anybody knew Christian, they knew that was what he was like, he did things that made sense... Although depending on his state of mind those things would become more or less reasonable. But right now, it had seemed apt to talk to Shay about his own condition, though he left out the part where he got it because he overdosed on drugs that he had taken from Ghost. That seemed... unnecessary to point out to Shay, and she had not opened up about her own reasons for dying either. That was none of his concern or business anyhow. He was happy to remain in the same grey friendship the two had, grey as in there seemed to be no emotion connected to them, but also grey like a rock wall, foundational, strong, and unlikely to break except through immense pressure. It was a steady relationship that brought strange comfort. Christian softly breathed through his nose as he sat next to Shay and waited for the reply from Vex, he doubted she would take long, and as he suspected, she replied quickly. At first, as always, he was immediately confused to why Vex was offering to go get pie with him, but it took only a couple of seconds for him to remember what she had taught him. That was a code. If anyone were to read it, they would think the two were going out for pie, but to Chris and Vex, it meant more than that. It meant he had a mission, he needed to meet her, and then they would be off. Then... Dr Munro would surely continue helping Christian.
At Shay's words, Christian was about to reply about Blair's knowledge of the whole affair, when he suddenly keeled over on the seat. Deep coughs spurted from seemingly nowhere as he almost dry heaved, having not eaten in a long time. The metallic taste of blood washed through his mouth, and he barely managed to cover his coughs and mouth with his sleeve before the blood came struggling up his throat and out onto his sleeve. The dark blue of his jumper turned a slight purple in spots, not a heap of blood, but enough to show Christian that he needed to continue the treatment with Dr Munro. "Sorry..' He said, his voice raspy and obviously struggling not to cough any more. He bent away from Shay so that she did not have to watch him, as another rack of coughs brought him almost out of the chair and to his knees, his torso bending and contorting as the tickle continued. After a particularly bad but useful cough, he felt a smidge of relief, but his sleeve was turning much darker with each cough. Wiping his mouth with a clean part of the same sleeve, he took a few shaky breaths, trying to judge how long he could make it without any more lull. Would he be able to get to Vex in time? Or Dr Munro? Or would he need to take some? From the way his body trembled, and sweat was layering him like a cake, he was fairly sure he wouldn't make it to Vex in time. He needed some NOW. Sighing, he stood up. "I'm sorry about that. I have to go. I'll check on Lev." He said, heading towards the door. That's when he remembered Shay's question, and the thought of Blair was like a pin in his heart. "She does know..." He said, feeling the tremor in his voice, and not knowing whether that was emotion, or pain. He had hated breaking up with her, but he was certain it had to be for her benefit. She deserved someone who would live, and maybe Dr Munro would find a cure for him. She deserved someone who wouldn't hurt her, and Dr Munro was already helping Christian! She deserved a good person. And Dr Munro was helping Chris to achieve that title. He smiled half-heartedly to Shay, and tipped his head. "Rest well." He said, more as a way to say goodbye than a genuine request or imperative. He was aware that she would likely struggle to rest, and so he meant it in farewell. Moving out of her room, he made his way as fast as possible to the nearest bathroom, and admittedly didn't take notice of the fact that it was the accessibility one. Locking the door quickly beside him, he ran to the toilet, barely reaching there in time as he dry heaved some more, mostly only blood coming from his heaves and coughs. The pain that resonated through his throat and chest was astounding, much worse than usual, and Christian wondered whether he was tearing up his throat with the coughs. Shuddering and shivering, hot and cold, he stayed there prostrated by toilet, waiting for the tremors to subside and his body to have strength to stand. His hands held the bag of lull he kept on him, and he knew all he needed to do was to get up and take some, and he would feel miles better. The problem was taking too much. That's what got him here in the first place.
Christian steeled himself, determined not to take more than was necessary. Each bag he had had enough for about two doses. But he had, on too many occasions, taken the whole bag in one go. It was just so tempting, the feeling of lull was incredible, it made him feel on top of the world, it gave him joy and adrenaline and excitement. It had lead to some fun nights with Blair before. But it also lead to much worse symptoms, much worse let downs, and it was not good for him. Standing now in front of the mirror, he looked at himself, feeling like a skeleton and though looking mostly normal, he finally took the dose he was meant to. Placing the bag quickly bag into his pants pockets so that he wouldn't take any more. It didn't take long, maybe a few seconds, and he immediately felt the change. A pleasurable shiver made its way up his back and it felt like the pain in his chest and throat, the need to cough and throw up, and even the taste of his own blood... was all washed away. Looking in the mirror, he could have sworn that as he stared at it, his eyes became bluer, his hair more blonde, his jersey the sky, the bathroom a cloud. He giggled softly as he saw the entire room begin sparkling and the red spots of blood he'd left in the room looking like poppies in a field of snow. The urge to take more was there, but now he was satisfied, and it soon left him. Waiting just long enough to have some grip on his senses, he took his jumper off, leaving it in the corner of the room, and exited in simply his white t-shirt, somehow surprisingly with no blood on it. He swaggered out of the hospital with little care and exited quickly. He jogged to Shay's place first, as it was closer than his own, and he quickly checked on Lev. The cat was fine, simply upset at being alone for so long. Christian gave him some refretful head scratches, although regretting it more as his nose clogged up a tad, and made sure to fill the food and water bowl up a lot. He left a note on the counter. Shay is in hospital. Call for more information. And put his own phone number down. He hoped Shay wouldn't be mad. It was simply if anything were to happen and someone needed to find out where exactly she was. Christian then rushed to his own house, wanting to change attire to something a bit better for what they might be about to do in this mission that Vex implied. He quickly got changed, placing on some dark grey jeans, a white singlet this time, and a black leather jacket on top. He gave a quick wash to his face, just in case it was bloodied up, and combed his shorter hair back. Once he was satisfied, he slipped on some comfortable boots and headed to the meeting spot. He jogged most of the way, but as soon as the abandoned Diner cart came into view, he moved to a leisurely walk, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed and back, and his gaze mostly on the general environment. Vex had taught him to do that, to look natural. He didn't always see a need for it, but she often told him to practice what she taught him as much as possible. HE walked up to the Diner Cart, wondering if Vex was there yet.
Interacting with: Shay, Vex
Sanctuaryforall1
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Fable
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Vex
code by Stardust Galaxy
Wolfiee
Meow
Initiate
Aya.
coded by natasha.
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Aubrey Amber Stark || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn
Aubrey listened to Rhys whilst ignoring the throbbing behind her air. She admittedly was struggling to concentrate on him, not because it was disinteresting or because she had better things to think about, but vainly she couldn't help the obsessive desire to wash her hair immediately. She knew that her beautiful blonde locks were likely bloodied and becoming matted as she sat there and was getting tended to, even as Rhys spoke. Thus, her fingers gripped at her knees and her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip aggressively as she tried to ignore it, and listen to Rhys. Aubrey didn't know Rhys terribly well, not like she knew Christian and Finn, but she'd grown up around him and had always gotten along fine with him. She'd always found him to be interesting, never sure exactly what he was like. Nevertheless she did enjoy being with him, as she did with any good looking male in Dauntless. As he spoke, she was suddenly reminded of Shay's particular problem that she had only seen the end of as she came out of her simulation. "Ah yes, I saw that." She said, her voice becoming slightly colder by habit. Although she had loved Shay, they had grown up as best friends, her demeanour towards Shay was much colder now, more distant. She had found it a pang in her heart to look at her previous bestfriend in such a fashion; She didn't want to feel sad for Shay though. Shay had just dropped off the face of the earth in terms of relationships. One moment she had been best friends with Aubrey, the next she avoided her, she didn't talk to her, she was cold, unforgiving, hard. Aubrey had cried and screamed at Shay at some points, accusing her of who knows what, just to try to get a reaction out of her, but after the coldness that Aubrey had experienced from that, she had done exactly the same back to Shay, and had avoided her, and if possible, gotten colder towards her. Thus, there was a rival of feelings inside her as she thought about Shay's condition. The old Aubrey who still cared deeply for Shay, she was very worried, she wanted to know if she was okay, she hoped she was. But the hardened Aubrey was slowly trying to build a steel wall up, to not care. She didn't want Rhys to know that though. "You look fine though. I'm sure it was something to do with Shay personally, rather than the simulation. I know Christian has allergies to the serum, maybe Shay is similar." She suggested offhandedly, wanting to get away from this conversation.
"Well, once they've checked us both out, I was thinking of grabbing a drink. You in?" She said, going off topic as soon as possible was something she was keen to do. If Rhys seemed surprised at her eagerness to leave the discussion of Shay so quickly, he didn't show it. He agreed that it was a good idea, and Aubrey nodded enthusiastically, though got a quick gripe from the nurse treating her, as she pulled a stitching that she was trying to put in. Aubrey blushed softly, and stayed still and silent now, wanting the stitching to be done and for her to have the chance to wash her hair. "Let's stop by the dorms, I need to get this blood out of my hair." She said, "Plus I stink of that man's cheap booze." She said, wrinkling her nose as she thought about how yuck that alcohol probably was. She hoped it had been clean enough to keep the wound sterilized, she didn't want to have to come back to the doctors, or worse, to Charlie, to get it fixed again. Soon enough though, the nurse was finished and she moved on to Rhysand, checking him over and asking him lots of questions. Aubrey didn't pay much attention, instead she simply patted at her stitching softly, wanting to know whether it was covered well and how much area it covered. Once satisfied, and once Rhys had been properly checked and declared fine, they got up and headed towards the dorms. Aubrey walked briskly, eager and now thinking purely upon cleaning up her hair and checking how she looked in the mirror. She was hardly even in the dorm before she started pulling of her top, having no care for whether others were there, or whether Rhys (or others) cared about viewing her body. She was quite proud of her body, and had always been trained in Dauntless to be so proud, and to not care whether others viewed it. In fact, she rather liked it. Thus, she yanked off her top, now only in a sports bra (though a well covered one) and threw her top on her bed as she waltzed into the bathroom. "I won't be a minute." She said, as she headed to the nearest shower. The dorms themselves did not try very hard to keep privacy, the bathroom was unisex, there were no particular stalls or private areas in the bathroom or the mass bedroom. So either people had to try pick a time that nobody was around, or they had to find the other showers and toilets that were scattered around the compound. Aubrey simply didn't care, and thus she just got to washing up her hair, happily watching as the blood began running down her body and into the drain.
It took a little over 4 minutes for Aubrey to finish washing out her hair, and she came back into the dorm wrapped in a towel, and quickly got changed back into what she had been wearing before, as the clothes themselves had not been dirty. "I'm ready now!" She chirped, as she turned to see where Rhys was. She had half expected to find him missing, but there he was, still waiting for her. She grinned, eager to have company for once. There was something about drinking with others that definitely held a better feeling than drinking alone. She began to braid her hair as she walked, her arms aching but she didn't care. "That's much better. I hate having blood in my hair. It must be so nice to have dark hair for you, then you won't be able to see it. Is my hair tinged at all pink or red? I think I got it all out, but the mirrors in the bathroom aren't exactly perfect." She rambled, looking up at Rhys as she finally asked him to check her over. He did so, scanning her hair, then commenting that if anything was left it was not noticeable. She nodded happily as she strolled through the compound, heading towards a bar that she didn't frequent very much, but had been to a few times. The Spartan Bar. It definitely had an awesome name. Aubrey had been obsessed with Spartans as a little girl, she had often dressed up as them, she had studied them even outside of school, and she had read many novels. Not only that, but she had often read about the Greek gods, and had a love for Athena and Ares. She had often forced Finn into dressing as Ares, even though he always preferred to be Apollo or Poseidon. "Have you been to the Spartan Bar Rhys? It's quite good." She said, as she walked in to the environment. It wasn't as full as usual, as it was still only the afternoon. She saw a few people there that she recognized by face only, not knowing them genuinely, and bravely walked continuously towards the bar itself. This place wasn't for wimps, it was a serious bar and had serious people in it that would beat you up for whatever reason they desired. Aubrey wasn't afraid though... She wasn't usually anyway, but recently, Aubrey had little fear for her own wellbeing. She sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice her and Rhys, and scanned the environment. That's when she noticed Orin. "Hey Orin!" She called, waving at him. She knew Orin about as well as she knew Rhys, but that didn't mean she wasn't eager to drink with him too. Drinking with one boy was fun, drinking with two sounded like a party. "Come join us." She said.
Interacting with: Rhys
Wolfiee
Orin
fraxiom
Cassidy "Cassie" Wickham || 16 || Initiate || Erudite Transfer
Cassidy smirked as Ghost exited the stage, as she thought of it. If that were a real fight, you may very well have been dead. She thought to herself, though she knew her tendency was not to kill people, but in a life or death situation, she would. No matter, in her mind and from her perspective, she had certainly won that sparring session. She stood straight and proud, stubbornly ignoring the pain it caused her, as Ghost quickly exited, and only when he had exited the door did she slump and a grimace of pain enveloped her features for a few seconds. She sunk to the floor gently, and began to pick up her knife which she had artfully dropped as an excuse to crouch, but once down in that position she had to sit there for a few seconds. Her body screeched at her, telling her that she was in much more pain than she actually was. Her stomach and shoulder were fired up, they felt like they must have been three times their size in swelling, and like they were bleeding profusely, but she knew from experience that it was likely that they were hardly bruised. Her breathing was ragged for a few seconds, as she recovered and finally stood up. Ghost was a competent combatant. Not only competent, but he was wise in what he viewed, he could tell that she wasn't just a quick learner, he had hinted as much by what he had said at the end. He wanted to know why she could fight like she could. You will not be getting that information. She thought grimly, her life flashing before her eyes for a second. She may open up about some things, Ghost seemed like a useful person to have as an ally, so truth would be necessary in garnering that partnership, but she did not know him well enough to open up her backstory to. She had not opened it up to anyone yet, only Griffon - as he had been there with her. She had wondered about telling Randi, but she saw no need, Randi was good fun, and opening up would somehow ruin that, Cas was sure. She perked up as Aya spoke about ice-cream, and Cassidy nodded enthusiastically. "I am definitely ready to have something cold." She said, motioning to her sweaty arms and obvious exertion. She put the weapons away neatly, sanitizing them before so that whoever used them next would have clean weapons. As she walked back to Aya, she took slow and deep breaths, trying to relieve her body of the pain that it was in. She knew she was fine, but that didn't mean she could tolerate the pain any easier.
"What fight did I like more? That's a tough question." Cassidy laughed as she thought back to the two fights. It was no wonder she was so exhausted, she thought, as she had done two sparring sessions right after each other. She didn't take too long to answer. "I think if I'm being honest, I liked sparring with Ghost more. Mostly because I haven't sparred him before, and he was certainly an interesting combatant." She said, thinking back onto how interesting it had been. "But I always love sparring with Randi. So they were both very fun; Which one was more interesting to watch? You caught the end of mine and Randi's and saw the fight with Ghost. Do you have any comments?" She asked, curious to hear what Aya thought. Even though Cassidy was certain that she knew more than Aya when it came to combat, she had become acutely aware of how very good Aya's eye for detail was, and that included with sparring and training. Aya had become someone that Cassidy enjoyed asking to comment on things, as she often picked up on things that Cassidy might not have. She listened as Aya talked about the two fights, giving her comments and thoughts on the two and eventually deciding which one she had favoured. "Where did Randi go?" She asked, remembering how the blonde had exited during the fight. She had been a bit disappointed that Randi hadn't stayed long enough to watch till the end, she would have liked to gloat a little bit with her, but it had also given oppurtunity for Cassidy to take Ghost in surprise, as he had been too curious to stop himself watching Randi leave. She listened to Aya, and she nodded along, her eyes warming as she noted the diner that they were approaching. Although she was not a big fan of ice-cream, she did love sorbet, as they came in preferable flavours and were not usually so sickeningly sweet and creamy. Plus, Cassidy always got the duller flavours. They entered the Diner, Cassidy first and then Aya, and she immediately grinned as her eyes lighted upon her favourite person. "Griffon! Fable!" She said, her voice rising a pitch higher as she skipped over with Aya, immediately dragging another table over and sitting beside her brother. She was also quick to notice Griffon's little glance and blush. It was quick, and he immediately smiled and gave her a large hug, offering Aya a warm smile. She raised an eyebrow, looking from Fable to Griffon. What had the two been talking about? Why had he blushed when she and Aya had entered? Was there something going on between her brother and her friend? She wondered, but said nothing about it.
"What do I want?" Cassidy murmured, scanning a menu as Aya asked her that question and she repeated it. She knew she would never be able to get through a milkshake, from the looks of Griffon and Fable's. Finally she found the sorbet section, and her eyes scanned it quickly. "I think I'll just get a lemon and raspberry sorbet." She said, and smiled at Aya who quickly ordered for herself and Cassidy. It didn't take long for the waiter to return with their orders, and Cassidy made sure to eat her sorbet slowly, not wanting to spur on a migraine or headache or any other aches and pains. It was cold and tangy, and not too sweet, which Cassidy adored. "So, what have you two been talking about?" She asked, eyebrow raised yet again as she sent an accusing look towards Griffon. He almost choked on his milkshake as she asked, and his glance quickly went towards Aya before breaking off and staring enamoured at his milkshake. He seemed to hesitate out of fear, Cas thought. Finally Fable began to speak, freeing Griffon of what was obviously causing him some embarrassment. She stated they had been talking about how the simulations went, and then how they had been talking about art. Aya perked up at this, and began to say something about art. "I think we were going to go to one of the tattoo parlours later actually. Maybe we could peruse the art there together. Pick out tattoos that we may or may not get." Cassidy suggested. Griffon glance up at her with surprise, knowing that she could not get a tattoo. She refused to explain herself in this position though, and instead continued to eat her sorbet, stealing a fry from Fable and Griffon's stash as they continued talking. "Have you two done any art recently? I do believe that out of the four of us you two are the artistic ones." She said, getting an affirming nod from Fable. Cassidy was a brilliant dancer, and was a decent singer, but when it came to drawing, she simply lacked imagination and design. She was good when it came to fashion and design though. She listened, hoping that the conversation might draw out whatever was causing Griffon his sudden and unusual shyness.
Interacting with: Ghost
Aviator
Aya
Wolfiee
Fable
Sanctuaryforall1
Griffon
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Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Randi
code by Stardust Galaxy
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Officially Unemployed // Erudite to Dauntless
Dull pain lanced from his knees to his thighs as he shambled in the new direction that the little map on his phone had rerouted, the result of crouching in a fighting stance for twenty minutes plus Cassidy’s penchant for sneaky blows. “You owe me a drink for this, Randi,” he grumbled to himself, trying not to hunch as he walked. “Two drinks. One for each leg.” Until recently, Ghost had never had a particular fondness for alcohol, but getting a drink was the sweet note with which he and Randi had taken to ending their sparring sessions. Now that he’d been experimenting with different drinks and Randi had actively been helping him find new ones that he might enjoy based on preferences, Ghost was starting to get into the drinking scene. Plus drinking was a lot more socially acceptable than popping shrooms in broad daylight—which he sometimes still did anyway. For the remainder of the walk Ghost entertained himself by imagining what drinks he would order when he and Randi finally sat down at a bar. Fancy cocktails or shots? He’d been itching to try a French 75 after Randi had described the drink to him, but a vodka gimlet was a safe bet. And while sambuca was his favorite shot, Ghost had found that many bars didn’t carry it, in which case he ordered Jägermeister as a substi—
The shadows on one side of a narrow alleyway shifted, spitting out a demon with glowing red eyes, fangs like daggers, and a spoked tail that swished from side to side with sinister slowness. Ghost indiscriminately lashed out with one hand to catch the Wicked Sister on either side of his belt, only to remember that he’d given one of them to Charlie when his hand brushed his unadorned hip. Forked tongue flickering, the demon advanced toward him, haunches bunched to lunge, and Brandish Rose tumbled into the sunlight. Ghost blinked. The midafternoon glow turned her hair into a fiery mane, but that was the most demonic thing about her. No eyes like embers. No fangs. No spoked tail or forked tongue. Randi stopped short when she noticed the hard lines of tension in Ghost’s body, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. Realizing how foolishly hazardous he must look, Ghost forced his shoulders to relax and straightened, pasting a smile on his face. “¿Hola señorita, como ésta?” Had his shirt gotten soaked in sweat during the walk here, or just within the past five seconds?
Randi stared at him with those parakeet eyes, blazing like she could see through his soul. She was not one to be easily fooled. After a lifetime of telling lies, keeping secrets, and playing his cards close to the vest, it was a trait that unnerved Ghost greatly. The smile dripped off his face like an icicle melting in the sun. Her prolonged scrutiny made him wonder at the magnitude of his screw-up. Was he tripping? If so, how badly? Had the last time he’d taken something been in the bathroom when Thorn had walked in, or had he popped a tab in the time since he’d left Cassidy in the training arena? Ghost couldn’t remember. The way Randi was staring at him, head tipped like she was listening to a music only she could hear, was making him paranoid. Looking to redirect her unspoken question, Ghost fired off one of his own. “Know where you wanna go for drinks after this? My price is two freebies, in exchange for help with your family thing.” He shot Randi a playful wink, imitating the mysterious lingo that she had used in her text. Ghost’s voice was light with humor, but he was dead serious on collecting at the end of this errand, whatever it was. His throat was dry as a dead man’s eyes.
Randi nodded halfheartedly to his request, but it was clear that she wasn’t half as excited for drinks as he was. At the expression on her face, Ghost’s blood chilled. He wasn’t used to seeing her look so serious about anything. The sweat on his back was cooling, and despite the humid haze of summer, he receded a little bit inside his jacket. Upon mention of Randi’s uncle, Ghost’s thoughts tunneled back to the muscular guy with the Viking haircut, venom dripping from his voice when he found that he hadn’t been the first one to arrive at his niece’s hospital room. Or maybe he just hadn’t liked Ghost because he was the one for whom Randi had sacrificed herself. Either way, it hadn’t been a pleasant encounter. Ghost was relieved to hear that he had a passive lookout’s role in this job. He didn’t want to get in the thick of things with Freight while Randi was conscious and watching, so the less interaction with him, the better.
“And what kind of hand shall I be lending?” Ghost asked, bubbling with irresistible curiosity. “A brass-knuckled fist or a velvet glove?” But from the guarded look that appeared in Randi’s eyes, he knew now was not the time for questions. “Ah, my apologies. Forget I asked,” he said quickly. From having countless secrets of his own, Ghost knew first-hand how valuable discretion was in a friend. Out of respect for Randi, he refused to pry into her business, much as she hadn’t pressed him when he stumbled into the alley clearly disoriented. A mystery involving Randi’s uncle and her long-dead parents? Ghost’s interest was piqued.
He had forgotten many of the details of what had happened on the night of the home invasion in which his own parents were murdered in their dining room, but he still lived with half a memory of it, like an imprint left in the carpet long after the furniture had been moved. He had remembered enough to identify and track down their assassins and kill them. Slowly, horribly. Monstrously. And after interrogation had proven futile and revenge had left him feeling hollow and empty, Ghost had decided to end his search for the assassins’ employer there. Knowing who that person was wouldn’t bring his parents back to life. It wouldn’t fill the dark void that fear and anguish had carved inside him with twin knives. And to be an enemy of his father’s, that individual was probably so well-protected that Ghost would forfeit his life in the pursuit of further blood. His ignorance might very well be for the best. Or so he told himself.
Extracting himself from his internal melancholy, Ghost pushed a mischievous grin onto his lips. Randi’s instructions were mystifying, but he trusted that, when the time was right, he would know what to do. Over the past two weeks of training and adventuring with her, he’d been learning to read her minute signals, so casual that others might overlook them. How she bounced her leg when she was bored. How she balled her fists when she was anxious and how she looked at the ground when she didn’t want her expression being seen. Like she was doing now. Her telepathic connection with Ghost wasn’t just one way.
Wanting to soothe his friend’s nerves, he snuck two fingers under Randi’s chin and coaxed her head up so that their eyes met. “Let’s go get that lying son of a bitch!” he exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm. “Oh, sorry,” Ghost apologized, seeing the warning that pulsed through Randi’s features. “Is it too early to be throwing accusations around? I guess so, huh. Innocent until proven guilty, and all. Then let’s put your uncle on trial today. How about that?” Realizing that his hand was still on Randi’s chin, Ghost removed it and hooked both thumbs in his pockets. A man with more shame might have blushed, but Ghost didn’t. He just looked at Randi with a lopsided half smile on his face, daring her to break the silence. You have a girlfriend already, you greedy motherfucker, he reminded himself. And when Randi continued to look at him with a half-formed question in her eyes, no words forthcoming, Ghost stepped back, not wanting to lead her on. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward, his overabundant confidence from a minute ago fizzled away to nothing. “Let’s get going, shall we?”
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Bloom
code by Stardust Galaxy
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Griffon ||
Griffon was thoroughly surprised and shocked when a fry came flying out of the air and whacked him on the cheek. Obviously there was no pain, and to be fair Griffon couldn't even feel it, but it had been the act itself that had surprised him. He sat there with an almost slackjawed look on his face. Fable had thrown a chip at him? At the same time as Griffon was staring at her, Fable immediately melted into giggles and apologies, stating that she hadn't meant to get him on the cheek and had only meant to entice him to say what he had been going to say. He blinked a few times before beginning to laugh with her, getting a serviette and beginning to wipe up whatever mess may have been left on his cheek. "I'm just glad you didn't put ketchup on it." He said, noting that the serviette came back reasonably clean. "Otherwise we might have had a problem." He added, obviously not being serious. He thought about her words, she wanted him to talk about what he had just been too shy to say. But Griffon wasn't sure he was ready for the thing he had been going to say. He had been going to ask Fable whether she thought Aya would be happy with the idea of going on a date with Griffon, or whether Fable got the impression that Aya wouldn't be interested. But as he thought about it more, he wondered whether that line of thought was at all smart. He was diagnosed with amnesia, he couldn't remember things, in his past but also in his present. He would likely make a terrible partner in a relationship, he wouldn't be able to remember everything that needed remembering. He would constantly have to ask his partner questions to affirm things, he would have to write everything down and double check with them. It sounded like a lot of effort, and Griffon couldn't imagine anyone genuinely wanting to do that. Aya was very nice, she was very beautiful, Griffon thought she was incredibly talented, and she got along with his closest family members. If Griffon were being completely honest and selfish, he would admit to Fable that he liked her very much, and that he did desire a relationship with her, at least something closer than what they had now. But Griffon was not selfish, and although he was a genuine person, Candor was not his aptitude, and he was not always honest over everything. Looking up at Fable, he could tell she wanted him to finish his previous sentence, and open up. "I mainly stopped because it was silly, I started speaking before I thought." He said, hoping she would find that a good enough excuse to leave it alone. He didn't want to make Fable feel bad for him not talking to her, but he also didn't want to carry on with that conversation. Maybe it would go somewhere one day, but right now he...\
It seemed fate had other ideas. Griffon turned his head as his name was called by a familiar sounding voice. Cassidy. He turned, his warm hot-chocolate eyes alighted on Cassidy's lean frame and a smile lit up on his face. Right behind her though, as if she had been summoned by their conversation, Aya walked in. Griffon's face immediately flushed, had she heard their conversation at all? That wasn't so far from likely was it? He waved to both of them, but also found himself dragging his eyes away from Aya out of embarrassment, he was sure that if he could feel his own skin, he would be able to feel his cheeks burning. Cassidy happily joined them, and Griffon listened as they talked about what they were ordering. He could tell from the sheen on Cassidy's body that she had been working out, and he could tell from the way she was holding herself that she was in pain. His heart swelled, and as soon as Cas sat beside him he put a gentle arm around her. She smiled, happily leaning into his body as a form of comfort. "You okay?" He whispered, not wanting to make everyone else uncomfortable. "Yes, I just had two sparring sessions that left me a bit tired." She admitted, and Griffon nodded. He gently rubbed his thumb over her arm for a second, but didn't continue to do so, knowing that it would probably eventually irritate her and cause her pain. As she asked what they had been talking about, he immediately glanced at Aya without even meaning to, and then quickly brought his milkshake forward and began to have a drink. He almost choked on his milkshake as he tried to drink it too quickly, and coughed softly into his elbow to try and clear his throat. He sent a begging glance to Fable, hoping that she would realize he was feeling hyper awkward and uncomfortable and didn't know what to do. Whether she was empathetic or enjoying his nature right now, she obliged by speaking about the simulations and art. Griffon felt relief flood him, he really didn't know what to do with his and Fable's conversation about Aya before. It felt almost wrong, now that Aya was here, and he wondered whether she would be upset that they had been talking about her. Had they been thinking about her feelings much? Or just their own? Griffon felt a little bad, he had no idea how Aya felt about him, and his feelings towards her, although true and honest, felt yuck if they were not reciprocated. That was why Griffon felt fear at admitting his like towards her. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable at all. He didn't want her to feel bad at all.
The conversation turning to art was a life saver, and Griffon perked up a lot at this. When Cassidy mentioned tattoo's, Griffon scanned her face for more answers. He knew Cassidy couldn't get a tattoo, she'd tried before and it was too painful, it had caused her nearly to pass out from pain alone, and it had traumatized her for a while. But she seemed so calm, did she really mean to get one? He knew that physically... that was impossible. Unless... well maybe unless he was there.... They could possibly do it together. But he imagined that it would hurt all the same. He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it helped his sister feel more like herself, he would do it. "It would be pretty cool to have mine.. or Aya's art become a tattoo piece." He mused aloud, thinking back to the drawings they had been showing each other this morning on the roof. Many of Aya's drawings were beautiful portraits of people, but Griffon knew there were other drawings she had done that would make wonderful tattoos. "I would probably get one." He said, not clarifying outwards whether he meant one of his or Aya's, but himself knowing he meant Aya's. He subconsciously began to rub the leather outside of his notebook that resided in his vest pocket. Would anyone truly want to make any of his artwork into tattoos? That seemed so strange, he didn't think he was quite that good at it... But he did enjoy the simple sketches he made. It seemed almost something he didn't even mean to start doing. Originally it was simply journaling, but when you're trying to remember something... at least in Griffon's case, he found he always wanted to sketch things. It helped him remember details, or maybe it just meant his fingers and subconscious brain were busy so his conscious brain could focus. Whatever it was, Griffon had found himself doodling many times, and most of his notebooks were half journal entries and half doodles. Until he was given journals specifically for creative purposes. Now he went through journals and artbooks so quickly that he was growing quite the collection. In the dorm room there was a locker for personal effects, and his was almost entirely full of journals and art books. He had grown to love each one, many of them being the only way he could remember good memories with Fable and Cas, and many bad ones from further back in his history. Some people might have enjoyed forgetting their dark history, but when you can't remember something, you don't realize whether you would want to forget it or not, because you don't remember what it was. Griffon had heard from Cas that their childhood had been fairly awful, that much of it was a good thing that Griffon had forgotten, but he just couldn't stick with that... He didn't want to forget the bad memories. Hell... he couldn't even remember Luke, the baby that Cassidy said was their younger brother. He couldn't even remember his parents faces, their voices or how they smelt. It didn't matter if they were wicked, like Cas said, he wished he could just know them. He felt a bit twitchy in his seat at this point, as he remembered he wanted to talk to Cas about them. Now was not the opportune moment, but he would do it soon. "If people want to head off to the tattoo parlour, I'm happy to go whenever." He said. Smiling at everyone.
Interacting with: Fable
Sanctuaryforall1
Aya
Wolfiee
Cas
Phillip Parks || 19 || Soldier/Trainer || Dauntlessborn
Phillip found himself walking in a direction he wasn't quite used to. His fingers were still playing with the paper that had been given to him by his father. It still seemed so strange. He recalled how his father had knocked on his door while he was getting changed, and had asked to speak to him. Phillip had obliged, he wasn't the type of person to refuse his father anything. He had been getting changed into his security uniform so that he could go to work, it wasn't a job he loved, but it also wasn't the worst job in the world. It meant he could protect people and try to keep peace when necessary. His father had come to him with an interesting proposition, though Obadiah should have known that by asking Phillip himself, he was only making it certain that what he said would actually come to pass. Phillip was a brave person, but he wasn't quite brave enough anymore to stand up against his father. That had been beaten out of him a long time ago. They had been different people back then, but all the same, Phillip didn't refuse Obadiah. Phillip had listened as his father explained that the initiation was close to finishing, something that Phillip was excited for, Christian would become a full blown member of Dauntless! But there was a problem, many of the trainers kept ditching, or getting fired. Obadiah explained that from the beginning, at least one trainer had died - Caspian, poor thing - at least three or four had quit or walked off without saying why - Maggie, Harper, Maverick, Val - and Obadiah had only recently just heard that Ghost had just been fired, with Warren of all people taking his place all thanks to Jeremy. However, Warren wasn't so reliable. Phillip could tell what was coming, his dad would not have come in just for a chat. It soon came to light, and Phillip wasn't surprised exactly, but he definitely had not been expecting to ever have this conversation. He had never asked to be a trainer, in fact he thought he was likely the least experienced person to do the job. When his dad asked him, Phillip agreed, but also he wondered why none of his older brothers got the job. Obadiah claimed that they were all too busy with their own lives, and Asher - who would be the only one that wasn't too busy - had down right refused. Phillip realized he wasn't the first person his dad had gone to, and for some reason that made him feel a bit better. This wasn't a punishment then. He agreed, and took the piece of paper with him, not that it was going to be very important. As soon as his dad went out of his room he got undressed from his security uniform and back into normal clothes. Wanting to look a bit more presentable than usual, he put on a white button up shirt with a black jacket overtop, long black skinny jeans (without holes for once) and then some comfortable combat boots. Donning his usual chain necklace, leather bracelet and rings, he checked himself in the mirror of his loft bedroom. Then he left.
Now he was walking the halls trying to find Bloom. He could have just text her, but he was also kind of enjoying just strolling along trying to find her like some kind of treasure or scavenger hunt. He had found Warren, who had been in the training room, and had let him know that he would be coming in as a trainer as well, Obadiah's orders. Phillip was fairly sure that Warren had definitely felt like his toes were being stepped on, but from Phillips perspective, he didn't really care. He simply asked where he could find Bloom, and Warren had said that she'd exited a while ago. Phillip was aware of Bloom's job as a bartender, so he wondered if she was still working, yet he hadn't seen her at her usual bar anytime recently, so he didn't think so. However, after asking a random passerby who had just randomly seen a "Tall woman with red and brown hair" walking towards a certain "Spartan Bar", Phillip was intrigued. What was Bloom doing at the Spartan bar? It was a notorious gang hangout, for the Spartans obviously. Phillip had only gone in a couple of times, and admittedly that was a number of years ago when he had been an idiot who was hanging out with all of the Spartan's kids. There was one particular girl, who only went by Minty. She had been a niece or daughter of a Spartan, and had brought Phillip to the bar. She had been the one, along with Coke, Joker and KJ, to introduce Phillip to drugs, alcohol, and all the other stuff he had gotten into. In fact Misty had been the one who Phillip had first slept with. A mistake he regretted now only after realizing that they had been playing him like a fool, only eager for his "Daddy's money" and not caring about him. He hadn't hated them, or felt ill will to them, but he regretted how much time, effort and love he had poured into them without realizing it wasn't being reciprocated. He had seen Minty only a few times since then, she had passed initiation easily a year before him and had gone on to high positions. She still sported her minty green hair and millions of piercings, not to mention covering her body with tattoos. He even spoke with her occasionally if he saw her. They never mentioned the past, but Phillip was always glad he had never continued a relationship with her, she was not the person he would want to spend his life with. He had seen KJ around a bit, but apparently Joker had failed initiation and become lost to the factionless, and Coke had transferred to Erudite of all places, probably returning to his actual name Cole. Phillip didn't miss them, but he did keep an eye out for Joker whenever he was doing security outside. Thus, as he walked towards the Spartan bar, he felt a mix of emotions in his gut, many of which were negative and he had long since forgotten them.
It seemed though, that he didn't have to get to the actual bar itself, as he stumbled upon the very person he was trying to reach. Miss Vernal Bloom was standing quite intimidatingly over a young boy - Orin, Phillip realized, after Bloom said it a few times - and was chiding him quite harshly. Phillip felt a bit of amusement as he leaned on a wall watching quite happily. He had never seen Bloom so angry before. Her green eyes were flaming, her stature screamed serious and threatening. Orin must have been doing something absolutely idiotic in the Spartan bar, and it was a lucky thing Bloom had been there. Phillip had recalled seeing enough people beaten within an inch of their life, there, and he wasn't sure if he had seen people legitimately just be killed there. He tried to block those particular memories out. Once there was some sort of break in the storm that was Bloom's tirade. Phillip sauntered over, making himself viewable and out in the open. "Dear me Orin, I think it's probably best if you take Bloom's advice and go play somewhere else." He said, causing both Orin and Bloom to turn in Phillips direction. Bloom's immediate look did not seem happy, but Phillip hoped deeply that it was simply left over frustration at Orin, and not a simple distaste for seeing Phillip in general. Placing a hand on Orin's shoulder, he squeezed it and looked dead in his eyes. "You have no idea what Bloom can do. Trust me. Now get out of here." He said, spinning Orin from the shoulder and clapping him on the back to get him going. Whether Orin went happily, or out of fear, or just because he'd been "Ordered", Phillip didn't know. However, he was simply glad for the boy's departure. He spun around, smiling at the Bloom who was now... less scary looking and eyeing him up suspiciously. Phillip brought his hands out in a large shrug. "Hey, it's true. Even I don't have any idea what you can do, Bloom dear. After this particular viewing I can't say I want to find out." He teased, watching as she finally began to mellow down, and looked back as her normal self. "As it turns out," He said, before she could ask him what he was doing. "I have been looking for you. I have been given what seems like the dangerous job of trainer for these initiates." He said, watching as Bloom's eyebrows perked at the word dangerous. "Well, it seems like trainers around here are dropping like flies, and I can't say I'm particularly keen to disappear, die, be fired or forced to leave for whatever reason." He said, seeing as Bloom realized that it was true, many trainers had gone. "However, it will definitely be nice to get to work so close with you." He added with a sharp wink and a playful smirk, knowing that Bloom (from his friendship with her so far) had never hated his flirtatious manner. Not since they had become friends anyhow. He knew that if he was going too far, Bloom would clip him in the ears or let him know. "I already talked to Warren, though I'm not so sure he's keen on me being around. I'm hoping that you will be happy though, I intend to bring more fun into this initiation, it's seemed a bit droll so far." He smiled, bowing extravagantly to emphasize his desire to have fun. Finally cracking a large smile out of Bloom, he grinned. "So, what do you do when you're not training the kids? Or... rather... what can we do together now? I intend to learn from you, oh great sensei." He said somewhat mockingly. As he said so, a flurry of paws could be heard on the ground, and Phillip immediately ignored what he had been saying and dropped to his knees. "Honey!" He said with genuine excitement and joy. A good sized golden lab x german shepherd was bounding towards the two, and leapt into Phillip's arms, giving him a bunch of kisses and slobbery licks which he tried mostly to avoid. After giving her a giant hug, Phillip got up, rubbing off what fur he could and wiping his face quite a lot. Honey then sat in front of Bloom, tail wagging and a happy tongue lolling out look from her face. "Honey here has been modelling with my sisters recently, but I finally have her all to myself again." Phillip said with a wide grin. He saw how Honey sat in front of Bloom, as if awaiting something and he raised an eyebrow. "Have you been feeding my dog treats?" He accused, though the nature of his voice suggested he didn't mind at all. Honey barked in reply, and Phillip laughed.
Interacting with: Bloom
Sanctuaryforall1
Orin
fraxiom
fraxiom
monkeying around
INITIATE
orin daithi gorman.
coded by natasha.
Wolfiee
Meow
Divergent
Rhysand(Rhys).
coded by natasha.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Thorn
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Charlotte "Charlie" Stark || 20 || Medic || Dauntlessborn
Charlie felt more and more like she was losing Thorn. As she sat by the water, trying her hardest to act like she was okay, she felt her heart tighten as each second went by. Would Thorn not join her? Would he not talk? Would he ever be the same? She felt tears prickle her eyes and she urged them to go away. She couldn't break down, she couldn't be weak right now, she was always weak, and others were always strong for her. But right now, she had to be strong for Thorn. She had to act like she could handle it, whatever it was he was going through. She was almost sure that she could, but she knew that there were too many examples of times when she couldn't. From what she could imagine, she wondered if Thorn knew that, and was stopping himself from healing because he didn't wish to harm her. I can't even assure him that he won't. She thought sadly, a heavy burden resting on her heart. She just wanted him to know how much he meant to her, because she... she knew she selfishly wanted him to stay with her. She couldn't lose anyone else. Sasha, Thorn and Ghost (and Aubrey of course, although Aubrey had already pulled away painfully), these people were the last remaining tendrils of those close to Charlie. She had to keep reminding herself though, that Thorn had recently lost the most important person to him, and she tried to place herself in her own shoes, back when she was 10 and her father died. Henry had by far been the closest person to Charlie back then. He was the best person Charlie knew, and no person had ever topped her respect, she doubted anyone ever would. Henry had been everything to Charlie, and when he died she had lost him forever. Her first loss. She didn't even care that she was not biologically Henry's daughter, he had treated her as his own, and had shown no favoritism between her and Aubrey. He had called her his daughter, he had comforted her when she was sad and encouraged her when she was confident. He had worked hard for her, and had spent as much time as he could with his family. The fact that he chose her, rather than Jeremy, who specifically chose to leave when he found out Sasha was pregnant... That simple fact meant that Charlie could only love Henry more. The one thing she couldn't love, the one thing she hated, was that he was gone. Dead. Aubrey mourned her father too, but she had been but 6 years old, and had never truly known Henry like Charlie had. Aubrey also was able to move on in a way that Charlie never could, she dedicated her time to other people, and branched out, did the things she was confident in from her own motivation and encouragement. But Charlie had needed Henry, and only a few years after he died, she learned about Jeremy, and he entered her life, the start of her living nightmare which she had been in for 7 years.
Charlie was broken from her melancholy thoughts as Thorn joined her, she shoved her feelings to the back of her mind. Henry had been dead for ten years, and Charlie had grown accustomed to that. If she spent too long thinking about it, it could lead to a terribly mournful time, but she had grown used to accepting the fact and moving on with her life. Never forgetting him, never stopping in love, never stopping in grief, but moving on because she had to. Because Henry would want her to. She hoped... dearly... that he would be proud of who she was today. Taking a shaky breath, she smiled at Thorn and watched as he sat beside her. At first he didn't look at her, but he looked at their surroundings, she wondered if it was hard to be with another person right now. The grief of losing someone close to you could hold for a long time, Charlie was well aware, and she knew how hard it was to talk to people after such a thing occured, whether it was about feelings or about literally anything. But she also knew how remaining silent and alone was the opposite remedy for healing. It would only deepen wounds and fester infection. Being a medic, Charlie knew that treatment often meant causing more pain in the moment, in order to heal. Cleaning a wound was very painful, but it was terribly necessary, otherwise the wound would likely become infected, and even more of the body would become injured and sick. Repairing bones, dislocations, tendons, even just stitches... they were all very painful right after the operation, and would be for a little while, but those operations would cause long lasting effects that were good for the body's health and wellbeing. Without those operations, the injuries would only worsen, and more of the body would eventually follow suit. She wanted to be cruel, to force Thorn to speak and open up, so that the healing process could begin, but she couldn't. Looking at him, seeing the sadness which hung around him like an aura, she couldn't claw at it like some wild cat, uncaring for his feelings. It didn't matter if she believed she knew better, she wouldn't hurt him like that. She would prod gently, she would try to remind him that she bore much love for him and cared for him, she would try to make him feel safe with her. When he spoke up, mentioning about how it was nice down here, she felt a small amount of the burdensome weight lift off of her heart. Hearing him speak was good, even if it tugged at her heart strings from the pain in his voice. But it was good nevertheless. When he continued speaking she felt her heart squeeze warmly even more. The words he said might not have been important, or dealing with any of the issues at hand, but it was a start. "It is very interesting to think about that." She said with a nod, looking around at the environment as he was. "It's almost.. impossible to imagine. Like what is outside the walls? Why are there walls? When did this all get built? What was here beforehand?" She mused aloud, hoping that the conversation would warm Thorn's spirit.
Although Thorn had spoken more than she had heard in a long time, Charlie could tell that it was about the limit in which he could right now. His voice had shook. and his look was pained and avoiding her gaze. This was very hard for him. She looked away from him, it was very hard for her also. Shuffling back on the rock so that only her toes and feet tickled the waters surface, she took a deep breath and spoke. "Thorn... Would you do something for me? Even if it's strange?" She asked, watching as he nodded. "Would you lie down? With your head in my lap? I... would like to sing to you. A song that my father used to sing to me, and then my mother would sing it to me after he died." She said. She bit her lip, knowing how strange and odd it was that she was asking him this. She had no idea if she would be able to sing well with her own emotions at play here, and she had no idea if this would feel comforting to Thorn or simply awkward. "If this is too strange for you then obviously you don't have to. I just... Want to help." She admitted softly. She wasn't sure what emotions raged through Thorn's mind as she waited for his answer, but eventually, for whatever reason (guilt, love, fear, compulsion, pain, hope) Thorn acquiesced to her request and lay down, awkwardly at first he laid his head on her lap facing the sky, but then it must have been too awkward, and he rolled slightly so that he could look on at the water. Charlie felt anxiety riddle her body, she had expected it too feel awkward, but what made it stranger was that it felt almost good to have him like this with her. It felt like they were simply being as close as they usually were. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, then she also lifted her eyes to watch the water and began to sing.
"When darkness surrounds you and burns in your heart,
When shadows torment you and tear you apart,
When sleep is evasive and nightmares alive,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
Though anger may flourish, though sadness may flow,
Though fear and regret come and joy seems to go,
Though shame and self-hatred may be in your eye,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
Should there be sorrow more deep than the sea,
Should there be war and the loss of the free,
Should there be too many reasons to cry,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
I promise to love you for all of my days,
I promise to be there when nobody stays,
I promise death and its rules won't apply,
I promise that nothing will change you and I."
When shadows torment you and tear you apart,
When sleep is evasive and nightmares alive,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
Though anger may flourish, though sadness may flow,
Though fear and regret come and joy seems to go,
Though shame and self-hatred may be in your eye,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
Should there be sorrow more deep than the sea,
Should there be war and the loss of the free,
Should there be too many reasons to cry,
I promise that nothing will change you and I.
I promise to love you for all of my days,
I promise to be there when nobody stays,
I promise death and its rules won't apply,
I promise that nothing will change you and I."
At what point Charlie's hand had begun mindlessly stroking Thorn's curls and caressing his head gently, she hadn't noticed. She had been teleported in her mind back to the days when her father had sung this song to her, in this very same position, and then her mother after that. It was a song that Charlie had only sung to Aubrey, and had never used it otherwise. It brought so many memories back into her that she struggled to even think of it, let alone sing it. But she found that her voice held strong, and when she realized she was stroking Thorn's hair in such a way, she hesitated, but given that he had not yet complained, and she found it to be relaxing even for her, she continued. She continued to hum the tune of the song, not wanting to repeat it, but unable to remove the tune from her memory now that she had sung it. She hoped in some small way, that this had helped Thorn.
Interacting with: Thorn
Sanctuaryforall1
Christian Parks || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn
Christian was glad when he saw that Vex was already here. It was the sight of her that brought happiness to him in that moment, knowing that he'd remembered his instructions clearly, and that he was closer to his goal. The way she looked back at him brought him a thrill, she looked pleased, a smile upon her face and the way she looked up at him with appreciation. Christian had always loved feeling appreciated, after having been the black sheep of his family, and having let down most of the people in his life that he loved, he would do almost anything for those who truly appreciated him for who he was. It wasn't a necessity that he wanted out of anyone, he didn't truly care that much, but when someone showed him they appreciated him, it was like a high. He looked down at Vex with equal appreciation as she commented on how he had cleaned up. "I thought I should probably start looking like the man I want to become." He said firmly, more passion in his voice than usual. The Lull he had taken had not been too much, but it did mean he would be more passionate and energetic for a little while, before he needed another one. His heart rate seemed increased and the tendons on his arms and neck were tight from the pulsing inside. His fingers curled in and out as if they were unable to stay still, and his body felt unusually itchy, but almost in a good way. Taking off his jacket and holding it in one arm, he felt a lot better, the material of the jacket having been frustrating his skin slightly. Having the jacket off meant that the airflow tickled slightly, and also... Christian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not out of fear but out of shock and a slight sense of pleasure, as Vex's hand rested on his bicep and her fingers trailed across his arm. Her words were fuzzy in his ears, like listening to them with ear muffs on, or through a blizzard or water. He could tell what she was saying, she was empathizing with his sadness towards his situation with Blair, but his mind was hyper fixated on those dark fingers that gripped his arm and when she removed her hand he almost wished he could have grabbed it to put it back on. Lull did that, increased sensation, and Christian loved it. Having lived most of his life on drugs that dulled sensation, he was even more addicted to Lull than an average person might be. He clenched his jaw and his fists as Vex walked away, trying to steel his mind as his eyes washed over her figure. Get a damn hold of yourself Christian. It's the stupid drugs, take a breather, think of Blair. Although he could hear his thoughts clearly, and images of his lovely girlfriend... ex-girlfriend popped into his mind, he couldn't help continuing to stare at Vex all the same, and almost subconsciously so, his deep blue eyes fixated on the different hair styles she had, and the way her body curved so synonymously. It was a miracle he was even listening when she began to talk.
But talk she did, and Chris did listen. As he did so, the passion in Vex's voice, and his own feelings on the matter, caused a spark of anger to bubble up within him. "Those bastards." He said through gritted teeth. He felt his shoulders tense and his muscles harden in frustration. "Dr Munro is a great man, they cannot be allowed to do this, nor even to try." He spat in agreement to Vex, and watched as she grinned at his response, praising him for thinking the same way as her. "What do we do?" He asked, not having any idea of what truly they should do. He knew what he would do naturally, if it was something to do with himself, and he knew that he would hurt people. Not because he loved hurting people, but when anger and personal offence happened to Christian, he usually acted in a physically aggressive nature before anything else. That was one of the reasons why he was helping Dr Munro in the first place, and he was glad to see the improvement he was already making. Vex continued telling him what they were to do, but as always she only let him know a piece at a time, stating that she didn't want to give out misinformation or say something in the wrong order or whatever. Christian didn't mind, he was rather happy to go along with what someone said with little to no information from them, he was "the perfect soldier". Vex hopped off the counter and told him to follow her, that she knew the fastest route to this place. Christian put on his black jacket and followed her. Given that they were still in Dauntless territory, they simply walked casually through it, having no reason to hide themselves. They were both initiates in the Dauntless initiation, thus they had perfectly good reasons for being there. Nobody talked to them, and given the exact location they were in at the moment, there wasn't anyone around to whom they recognized. Rather, they walked as if nobody was there, even though many people were. But, it didn't take long for them to near the end of the Dauntless boundaries and to where it became the common area. Christian assumed that the lab in question would be on the Dauntless side of Erudite, very close to Dauntless, but Vex made a turn westward, so that they were walking towards the factionless area. Christian felt uneasy as they went, having never gone into the factionless area himself unless it was for travel. He had always stayed on the train or had been in the Dauntless compound almost exclusively, except for school and medical emergencies. However he said nothing and simply followed Vex obediently. When they were nearing the factionless area of town, there were much less people just walking about, and it was more and more clear that there were factionless around. Christian could see them eyeing his fancy clothes, and he wondered what he might do if someone were to attack them. He knew he would attack them back... That wasn't a hard question. But he'd never had to do that with a factionless person before... he was curious. Were they as useless as he'd been led to believe they were?
Vex made so many intricate turns and moves that Christian was almost losing track of where they were exactly, and already the terrain was unfamiliar to him. He copied Vex as closely as he could, walking confidently when she did, and sneaking quietly when necessary. It didn't take too long before they neared the particular area that Vex wanted them to go, and Christian felt a sense of relief. His high from the Lull had notably died down by this point, he was more or less his normal self, and his mind was no longer racing with unusual thoughts and desires, but instead was a lot more reasonable than usual. Of course there was a tiny portion of his brain that questioned what he was doing with Vex here, but the rest of his brain was quite clear about the fact that this was the right thing to do. He wasn't sure what Dr Munro wanted from him, but he knew that even now at this point, he owed him everything and more. He needed Dr Munro. After moving stealthily they entered the Erudite area, and snuck round the outskirts. Vex obviously didn't want them to get seen, and Chris surmised that it was likely because both of them were dressed in clearly Dauntless attire, so would be very out of place, and would likely get sent home if somebody caught them. Instead they chose to use their dark clothing to their advantage and snuck round using abandoned buildings in the factionless area, or even the strange spots in the Erudite area that were crowded and easy to slip behind and within. With all of that, they finally arrived near a building that was smaller than Chris imagined. He'd been imagining this large building to combat Dr Munro, but as he looked at the smaller building in front of him and Vex, he felt even more angry at them. Did they truly think they could steal Dr Munro's work and then get away with selling it themselves? They were absolutely insane, and needed to be taught a lesson. "What do we do?" He asked Vex, a strange mix of fiery determination and mixed confusion in his voice. He looked down at her, blue eyes meeting dark orbs of passion and motivation. Vex was pure passion, and Chris felt his own motivation through that. He could almost hear his heartbeat in his ears, and wondered if he was possibly overplaying this all too much, and was getting overexcited. He didn't truly want to hurt anyone.... He wasn't that kind of person... He needed to calm down. While he waited for Vex's answers, he tried to commit to a small breathing exercise he had learned to help him calm down.
Interacting with: Vex
Sanctuaryforall1
Last edited:
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Fable
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Vex
code by Stardust Galaxy
Nerdy.
Nerdy
Aubrey Stark || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn
Aubrey watched as Bloom appeared and took Orin away. "Well, that was weird." She stated outwardly, though inwardly she had found it rather entertaining. She had never seen Bloom so upset looking, and by the look of the bartender, she wasn't surprised. Orin may have been acting a little over the top, especially for a bar like this. Aubrey felt a shot of adrenaline run through her system at this, as now all the older people in the bar were looking at her and Rhys with suspicion, as if they thought they would also make trouble. Even when the bartender came for their order, he eyed them and didn't seem to take his eye off them the entire time. Aubrey had been here before, but she hadn't been here so often as to have made any reputation. Thus, nobody here knew her or could vouch for her. As Rhys talked, she tried to not look at the bartender or any of the adults looking her way. "I agree, why don't we wait for our drinks and then head off? I'm not willing to go see Orin get a thrashing from Bloom if it means I don't get my drink." She said, laughing softly and continually running her fingers through her hair. She believed Rhys when he said her hair looked fine, but she kept thinking about the blood, and how she would hate it if her hair looked bad because of that. She thankfully accepted her drink from the bartender, and left a more generous tip than usual, hoping that that way he wouldn't be more frustrated at them. Although he definitely seemed grateful, she could tell that he was still unhappy with their presence there. "Y'know Rhys, I think we should go find Orin, make sure Bloom hasn't eaten him or something." Aubrey said with a laugh after having downed her drink, as she descended from the barstool and made her way out of the bar. She didn't give off the aura of someone who was afraid, and neither did she truly feel afraid, more she couldn't be bothered drinking if everyone was constantly staring at her. Although she loved attention, usually, she had loved it a lot less since Finn's disappearance. There was something about adults watching her that she couldn't feel comfortable anymore. They strolled to the door and started to make their way down the corridor. "Why did I pick that bar? Well.. I don't know, it has always seemed so exciting. There's usually a cool atmosphere and it felt more grown up than some of the others. Plus, I love Spartans, and I can't help associate it with the bar, obviously." She said with a shrug. "Though I do admit I might give it a miss for a while now, as I do think Orin might have given us a bad rep there. But there's plenty of other decent bars too." She continued, checking down each side passage as they continued walking.
She finally was able to hear two familiar voices, and she peeked round a corner to see Phillip and Bloom chatting, she couldn't see Orin though, so she assumed he went another way. "Let's keep looking, maybe he went towards the mall area." She supposed, knowing that it was altogether possible that Orin went literally anywhere. She didn't really want to go talk to Bloom, still remembering how the trainer had talked to her after the simulations, and although she would have happily said hi to Phillip, she couldn't be bothered listening and talking to both him and Bloom for however long they might want to. So instead, she and Rhys took another direction in order to avoid those two and continue looking for Orin. "I'm assuming Bloom just gave him an earful, I can't imagine it was any worse than that." She said with a shrug, smiling at Rhys and then turning to look back at where they were walking. They were headed to where there were a few shops. "Oh! You know I just heard of a place that just opened up, they make dessert cocktails! Bit expensive but I've heard they're definitely worth it." Aubrey said with a grin, as she sped up her walking and made her way towards the area that she recalled seeing it. "I was going to get another drink at the bar, but since we're here I'll just get one here." She rambled on, mostly talking to fill the space in the air. Ever since Finn had gone, Aubrey's chatterbox issues had decreased exponentially. She usually had no problems with talking non stop, usually it was a mission to get her to shut up. But ever since he had left, Aubrey had been thinking a lot more, and speaking a lot less. Goodness knew she probably still talked more than most of the other initiates, but some might have noticed that over the least week it had lessened dramatically. Maybe it was to do with Finn not being around, maybe he brought that out of her, that joyful bubbliness, that thing that made it unnecessary for her to think or wait, that desire to constantly talk and talk and talk. Or maybe it was Caspian, the foundation of her life that had died out of nowhere, no warning, no time to process it. Or maybe it was learning her sister and her trainer were dating, and then learning that her entire life had basically been a lie, that her mom and sister had taken beatings for her and that she wasn't even fully related to her sister. Or maybe it was because the fear simulations were damn scary, and Aubrey was not equipped to deal with it. Or maybe it was because she had broken off friendship with Finn when he pursued her, and then when he tried to attack her they got together. Maybe it was the fact that after having sex for the first time in an alleyway and waking up to find the person you love gone.... Aubrey felt her lip quiver as she lead Rhys rather quietly towards the thing she had told him about. Whatever the root cause was, if there was a root cause, Aubrey was quiet.
"Finally, here it is." Aubrey said, and she felt like a weight had been lifted off of her. Talking used to come naturally to her, but now it felt somewhat like a burden. "Hmm... I think I will go for the Cookies and Cream Martini." She said, although her eyes strayed on another. "And next time I'll get the Strawberry Shortcake." She said with a sigh, wishing she could get both now, but knowing she probably shouldn't. She ordered hers, and watched as Rhys ordered his own. "Let's sit while we wait, might as well." She said, though she couldn't help but think of Orin's words before at the bar. Calling Rhys her "date". She had only circumstancially run into Rhys today, and honestly she didn't know him very well. He was nice enough, but she had nothing about him that would make her think of him as a date. She usually would be sucking up to him, trying to get him to like her, but after Finn... She just couldn't bring herself to do that with anyone anymore. In all honesty, she was traumatized by romance and sex and anything like that. It was all too scary for her now, and she was desperately trying not to think of it like that, she was well aware that if it was too fearful for her, it would turn up in her simulations. That would be the worst possible thing. Humiliation and fear all in one. But, as she looked at Rhys, she could admire his good looks, his steady nature and his ability to go wit the flow and have a good time. She doubted he even though a similar thing about her, she couldn't imagine that. As they got their drinks, Aubrey sipped hers and felt an immense amount of pleasure as the taste of sweet chocolate cream flavour plus alcohol came down her throat. "That is good." She said, drinking it far too quickly than might be advised. It was sweet but tangy from the alcohol, and oh so warm. It was at this point that she happened to look out the window as Orin entered a tattoo parlour. "Oh look! There's Orin, let's go see him." She said, downing her cocktail with a slight amount of regret for drinking it so fast, and boosting out of the door, hoping Rhys was right behind her. She made her way swiftly to the tattoo parlour and walked in, easily seeing Orin and walking over. "Still alive I see, Bloom must bark louder than she bites." Aubrey teased, watching as Orin turned around, he didn't seem surprised, and as quick as ever his replies were witty and fun. Orin was someone she also didn't know super well, but had always enjoyed his chatty and boisterous nature. "Are you getting a tattoo? I haven't got one in a while... What about you Rhys?" Aubrey asked the group.
Interacting with: Rhys
Wolfiee
Orin
fraxiom
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Randi
code by Stardust Galaxy
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Wolfiee
Meow
Initiate
Aya.
coded by natasha.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Officially Unemployed // Erudite to Dauntless
It wasn’t a long walk to Randi’s uncle’s shop, but Ghost’s legs were sore throughout it all the same. Yesterday had been leg day, and the muscles in Ghost’s thighs felt watery with every step he took. So when she announced that he would have to haul ass up two flights of stairs to reach his hiding place, he was grieving the physical exertion that awaited him more than the possibility of getting caught by her uncle for trespassing, and possibly arrested. Even though this offense would have been one of the more minor infractions of the law that he had committed in the past few days. Perhaps because of that knowledge the risk of getting caught didn’t particularly phase him. If this were a poker match, Ghost envisioned that he had nothing more than the pittance of his blinds at stake. More than anything, he was slightly bemused at what Randi expected him to do once he got there—if anything at all—and when his cue to launch into action would come. Still, out of respect for her privacy, Ghost tried to keep his questions to a minimum, and trusted as she’d said, that he would know when his time to shine came… for whatever.
They arrived at a shop with a crumbling façade. Despite it being mid-afternoon, the red neon lights in the window were aglow, reading “Freight’s Weaponry.” Or, that’s what they would have read if both the R’s hadn’t been burned out. Since they were matching letters, it looked like a passably deliberate if questionable stylistic flair, but Ghost knew that Randi didn’t come from the lofty families of some of the other initiates, and chalked it up to being a happy accident that Freight hadn’t seen the need to fix. Unlike other, more pricey weapon shops, Ghost could tell at a glance that this one wouldn’t be posh and fussy on the interior, everything regal shades of black and gold and silver. Half a lifetime of burglary had taught him long in advance which businesses were worth the trouble of casing, which one would have safes with priceless valuables, cash, and family heirlooms inside. This wasn’t one of them. The only bit of tarnished gold in Freight’s front window was a knife with an ornate handle in the shape of a dragonfly.
The building was three stories in total, with a crooked latticework of iron twisted in the haphazard shape of a fire escape arcing up its side. Ghost had never seen Randi’s place of residence before and wondered whether she and her uncle inhabited the upper levels of the shop. Upon Randi’s instructions for Ghost to take the fire escape while she made her entrance, he nodded once. “Consider it done. But, uh, when exactly is my cue to…? Ah, never mind,” he trailed into silence as Randi ignored the question and broke from Ghost’s side to court whatever impending disaster awaited her on the inside of the shop. A bell chimed merrily as she pushed the door open. Remembering her warning that the stairs creaked, Ghost hastened toward the side of the building and used the noise as cover to begin his ascent. True to her word, the stairs gave a low, lugubrious groan the second he placed one booted foot on them. But this wasn’t the first time he’d been working with squeaky metal. Rather than sprint up the stairs and create a cacophony of sound, he edged up the stairs slowly and one at a time, taking care to distribute his weight evenly between the upper and lower steps. The shrieking metal eased to a threatening snarl.
Warm flecks of sunlight glinted off the metal, and Ghost kept to the shadows that the roof cast overhead, his back pressed to the wall as he climbed in a nimble side shuffle. Freight’s Weaponry was located on a mostly unoccupied side street, but he could hear the hum of cars pass from the nearby main street. When he passed the second floor, Ghost paused just before the window and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. An array of well-worn, antique weapons lay inside, several muskets so beat-up that Ghost fully believed they were indeed from innumerable centuries ago, as advertised. Not the kitchen, where Randi had told him to wait. That left just the third floor, then. Feeling like the shadow at the end of a bed that you try to convince yourself is really just the furniture and not a restless phantom at your window, Ghost slunk up the remaining flight of stairs.
When he peered inside, Freight and Randi were already there. The blond man had his hair pulled back into a half ponytail and wore a tank top and joggers, lean muscles on full display. He wasn’t a fearsome slab of stone like Jeremy Daniels, but he was built well enough that Ghost wondered once again what Randi expected him to do if their talk got ugly. Freight was crouched in front of a fridge, and while the window was thick enough to obscure words from Ghost, he could hear the man roar with a jovial laugh, head thrown back. Hiding along the half of the window that was curtained off, Ghost glossed a hand across the top of the window frame until he felt the juncture of a lock. Several seconds and a satisfying click! later, the lock dangled, limp and disabled. Ghost didn’t want to enter the shop unless absolutely necessary, but it was better to have a clear path in before things got out of control.
Now he waited. Judiciously, Randi stood on the opposite side of the window, so that Freight’s back was to Ghost while he could see her face clearly. She expertly didn’t let her gaze stray toward him, even as Ghost winked at her teasingly from behind the pane of glass. He watched as Freight shut the fridge, arming both himself and his niece with beers, and then the pair settled into two moth-eaten burgundy armchairs facing each other. Randi was smiling, but her smile seemed somehow plastic, like a mannequin’s smile, not quite reaching her eyes. It was the sort of empty smile with which a girl indulged a guy who flirted with her but she was in no way interested. Or maybe Ghost was reading into it too much. He considered himself pretty keen when it came to reading a room, but goddamn, Randi was sending him every mixed signal in the book. Invite and entrust him to watch her back during a clandestine family affair? Then give his flirtations the cold shoulder and sprint off while he’d been in mid-sentence? What the hell was her game? Now that he was no longer an instructor, possibilities that had previously been forbidden were on the table. And oh, did they pile up on the table like poker chips.
You’re only horny because you’re high, Ghost reminded himself. Or was he? He tried to remember the last time he’d had something to smoke, to snort, and just like he’d done in the alleyway, drew a frustrating blank. It wasn’t like Ghost to have gaps in his memory, however intoxicated he got. His lips itching for something to pinch between them, he withdrew a fat cylinder from his rust-colored jacket. The nicotine vape was a flirty fuchsia and labeled Gummy Bear, but when he’d first gotten it, it’d tasted more like orange creamsicle. Now it tasted like poisoned tea, but Ghost couldn’t help himself. Old habits, and all. He took a hit of the vape, holding it in his chest for a beat before he released the breath, wishing for the rush that he used to get when the device was new. Which had been yesterday. One hit quickly turned into three, and it might have been four, if a tickle hadn’t sprung up in his throat.
Ghost was still crouched out of sight behind the curtain, and he tried to muffle the sound of the racking coughs that tore through him with his elbow. His shoulders shook with strain. He coughed until it felt as though parts of his brain had spewed out of him, because suddenly he felt terribly light-headed, losing his balance from where he sat on his heels and tumbling backward into the rail of the fire escape. His head rang off metal with a dizzying clang, and alarm sparked through him at the incriminating burst of sound, but it was quickly drowned in physical anguish. A hand felt like it had closed around Ghost’s throat, constricting his windpipe. He couldn’t figure out why until, by instinct, he turned his head to the side and spat up a rivulet of blood. It clung, sticky and repulsive and too-bright, to the crisscrossing metal floor, escaping in clumpy drops between the slats. Black and white burned the edges of his vision, and Ghost forced his eyes to stay open against the temptation to shut them. To focus himself, he searched the fire escape for his vape, but it must have rolled through an opening in the floor, because it was nowhere to be found.
His resolve not to get high until the end of Randi’s possible altercation crumbled. Every bone, every muscle, every tendon in his being resisted the urge to dig into his breast pocket and dip into the drugs that were stealing his life away little by little, but Ghost had lived powerlessly long enough to know that his will meant nothing. A silvery cloud plumed up from his open palm as he poured the poison into it, the color of shooting stars and pixie dust. Ghost held the lull under his nose and breathed.
A new sense of awareness filled him as the particles rushed into his system. Ghost felt like he could track the progress of each mote as it coursed from his nostrils, down the back of his throat, and into his brain. The sunlight flickering on the fire escape made the metal look like it was breathing. In, out, slowly, like a great slumbering beast, awakened at your own risk. Ghost’s ears sputtered and popped as if he were on a plane rapidly ascending into the sky, leaving the ground far behind. The world pulsed in time to the beats of his heart. Despite the July heat, his fingertips felt very cold, like his body knew it was hanging on by a thread and had prioritized sending blood to its vital organs.
When Ghost could breathe without spasming, he lifted his head with far too much effort. He tried to ignore the swimming in his vision as he blinked at the room on the other side of the window. Randi was looking half at her uncle and half at the floor when something sharp passed over her features. Ghost watched her lips move without being able to hear her, one corner of her mouth pulled up in a snarl. Whatever she said caused Freight to stand from his chair. He turned as if to leave. An instant’s worth of terror shot through Ghost, having forgotten to scramble back out of sight. But he didn’t have to worry whether he’d been spotted for long, because Randi intercepted her uncle before he could take so much as a step. She was too close to see Freight reach for something in the pocket of his joggers, but a jolt passed through her body when he jabbed it into her neck. It wasn’t until he withdrew it that Ghost recognized the object as a needle, light refracting off the sinister bead of froth at its tip.
A hole seemed to open up beneath Ghost, and he felt like he was plunging toward the ground at breakneck speed like his lost vape. Randi was right, were his first thoughts when he recovered from his initial shock. He did recognize his cue to intervene. Whatever words she and Freight had exchanged, they were enough to cause Freight to try to drug his niece with an unknown substance. But instead of swaying and dropping to the floor, Randi clamped one hand to her neck and used the other to shove her lifelong guardian away from her, her face twisted into a sailor’s knot of betrayal. Like she didn’t even recognize him.
Freight took a menacing step toward her just as Ghost threw the window open hard enough for it to rattle in its frame. His hand flew to his belt and he slashed through the screen with a knife. He slid through the window feetfirst like an eel, landing on a floor of dark hardwood. With a burst of speed, Ghost bolted forward and rammed his shoulder into Freight’s, attempting to body him away from Randi. But his attack seemed to have more backfire than bravado. Shoving Freight was like running headfirst into a tree, and Ghost stumbled backward with the force of impact, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling. Freight, for his part, took a half step for balance and glanced over his shoulder, his expression falling somewhere between confusion and mild annoyance. He rolled his neck like a boxer nonchalantly stretching out after a punch to the jaw as he looked down his nose at Ghost.
Ghost cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure. “Get away from her. You creep,” he added as an afterthought, sounding like an actor who’d forgotten his lines in a penny play. He belatedly realized that his knife was still in hand and, after a moment of deliberation, sheathed it. If Freight intended to rush him, Ghost didn’t want to accidentally impale Randi’s uncle. So he balled his fists and raised them to shoulder height, adopting the fighting stance that Caspian had taught him what felt like decades ago when Ghost had solicited him for after-hours remedial self-defense lessons, and prayed that he would be able to leave the Rose residence on his own power after the beatdown he was about to get. Hoping that it didn’t come to that, Ghost decided it was best to get the man talking, even if he was only delaying the inevitable. “What did you inject her with?” he demanded in an imperious tone that reminded him of his father arguing over a restaurant discount, as to disguise his mounting fear.
But Freight was smarter than to answer. Instead, when Ghost flashed his eyes toward Randi to check that she was still standing, still conscious, still breathing, Freight Rose lunged.
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