Fantasy 𝓝𝓸𝔁 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓪.

[Horror]

Ilyas Osbourne

mood.

Nervous

[/comment]

location.

The Dupont Ballroom

tags.

Wxnter

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Why did the room seem so much smaller? He felt an invisible hand wrap around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. He became aware of every detail in the room, from the delicate crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling to the intricate patterns of the marble floor beneath his feet. Every little movement he made seemed to be amplified, the slightest gesture or tilt of his head causing an almost seismic shift in the atmosphere. It was then, that the gentle laughter of the guests swayed through the hall, clamorous enough to remind him of the world beyond this moment.

Ilyas’ eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting ever so slightly as the golden irises of Viviana met with his. Ilyas felt his face flush with embarrassment as Viviana's words pierced through him. He knew she was right—he had spent quite a bit of time practicing his lines before approaching her. He had wanted to make sure he said just the right thing, that he didn’t make any mistakes. And yet here he was, feeling like he had already made a mess of it. He swallowed hard, trying to push back the rising tide of humiliation that threatened to overwhelm him.

His laugh rang out, a nervous, almost high-pitched squeak that danced across the ballroom. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement. He ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. "Ah, dance with you? Now that's a tricky one. I'm sure it would be a pleasure, but I'm not very good at it," he stammered, a small smile playing across his lips.

Ilyas stepped forward and slowly reached out his hand to Viviana, his fingertips lightly brushing against her own. His eyes closed as he felt a wave of warmth wash over him and he opened them again to find her gaze fixed on him. He could tell she was awaiting his next move, and suddenly he was overcome with a desire to show her he wasn't just a clumsy buffoon trying to make a fool of himself.

He cleared his throat and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Would you allow me to have this dance with you?” His voice was gentle and low. His hand still lingered in hers, and he felt a shiver run through his body as their fingers interlocked. He motioned with his head and shifted his body to the side, indicating the empty space in front of them.

Ilyas stepped forward, one hand still in Viviana's, the other curling around her waist. He moved with graceful and confident ease, starting their dance by leading her into a slow waltz. The music seemed to swell around them as they moved, his feet carrying them around the floor with a gentle sway. A symphony waded across them, its soft melody padding the room. Every step was taken with a tender sway of his body, his feet guiding them in perfect harmony with the melody.

He felt like he was taking something away from her, something she deserved more than he did. He wanted to apologize, to make things right, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do was try to be a better person, to make her happy in whatever way he could. His movements were slow and measured, each turn of his body carefully orchestrated. Ilyas's hand seemed to lead Viviana hesitantly, his eyes never leaving her face as he guided her around the ballroom. As he stept, their eyes met and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. ”Let's make the most of this, at least for the night?” He whispered in a low voice that only she would hear.

The music began to escalate and Ilyas felt himself aching to pick up the pace. He wanted to move, to feel the rhythm of the music as it cascaded around them. He wanted Viviana to feel the same, to be swept away at the moment and forget the world outside the ballroom. His grip on her waist tightened, and he began to lead her in a more energetic dance. With each turn, the music seemed to grow louder, the rhythm more powerful, and Ilyas felt his heart racing in his chest. His smile crested across his lips as he moved, and for a moment, he felt a sense of freedom.

Ilyas was aware of Viviana's dangerous side. He knew how volatile she could be, how she could turn on him in a moment. But he wanted to think that beneath her hard exterior, there was a kinder side. He could see it in her eyes, the tension in her body, the way she held her head high. It was both intriguing and intimidating. He wanted her to feel the same freedom he did in that moment, to forget the expectations placed on them by their families and just be. He felt a hint of fear bubbling within him as he moved, but it was tempered by a desire for her to share the same liberty he felt in his chest.

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[Dorodoros]

Marcel

W

ere it anyone other than a witch in Emile’s place, they’d be testing the thin veil that was his patience. This party was already beginning to set his nerves alight. Marcel had proposed a drink, not to subject yet another timid creature to his company.

Tolerance for the bookkeeper compelled him to level another cold gaze toward this… Eleanor. Her weakness for words was apparent from the start. She seemed to have no greater grasp on them than a blind man did on his own sight, and it didn’t take very long for her eyes to meet the floor. It took one glance at Emile peering upon her with encouragement that only a guardian could muster for Marcel to quell his urge to speak. Just this once, the alpha supposed he could cling to silence as though it were the night, promising his attention as surely as the day that’d succeed it.

She said nothing for a time. Just when he began to think conversation had died before it even had the chance to live, she extended a hand between them to offer a flower and a murmur. That’s when he remembered.

It must have been twelve years ago now. Thirteen, perhaps. She’d worn a weave of purple flowers in her hair, then, during a time when he paid little heed to caution or restraint, when he was a more easily recognized breed of Duncan. Picking fights with numbers too many or bodies too large was bound to get him into trouble someday, and that day he ended up a bludgeoned, bleeding mess outside of the Woodbane manor. Wading through the tide of memory served him little afterwards, but what he could recall was seeing that floral crown and a bright golden glow, moments before his vision was stolen from him. When he woke, it was with neither pain nor scars to show for his efforts.

How odd it was the way that time could suddenly wane. He now had a name for the face—it'd only taken over a decade to once more see it. Marcel bowed his head toward Eleanor with as much respect as he could manage and took the flower in hand, tucking it behind his left ear after a moment’s hesitation. A purely logical choice, of course; anywhere else and it may be crushed. He dared someone to think otherwise.

“...Thank you, Miss Eleanor,” he offered in turn, speaking for both the present and a long-lost past, even should she not remember.

With that said, the alpha rolled his shoulders and shrugged off the overcoat he wore, laying it to rest over the back of a nearby chair. It was finally time to make use of those bottles.

Werewolves prided themselves on their senses, and Marcel found there were very few scents to overcome that of a strong drink: the aroma of lavender tea; the stirring fragrance of an oncoming storm long before it surfaced as brewing gray swells upon the horizon; the acrid stench that was Onyx, prior to being threatened with exile from the pack if he didn’t take a shower. Smell was a useful tool when on the hunt, or when the pack needed to find one another.

And yet he found that many neglected their hearing. Here, in the midst of a mass of bodies, they displayed themselves for those who would listen: the thrum of hearts. They were fragile things, known to brim, to bleed, to spill over and flow as rivers through the body. United, they beat so loudly that he’d been unable to hear the melody which now had part of the crowd dancing, led by the resident vampiress daughter and the Osbourne’s only true-born son. Some, like one of the newcomers to arrive at the fringe of their growing group, were in possession of hearts which lay still, frigid and frozen.

Voids with voices... damned ghouls.

Ringed eyes and an expression as blank as his own peered on as he downed three drinks in quick succession; he’d give up his title as Leader of the Pack before he allowed Emile a handicap. The other newcomer to join them had him nearly hesitate while busying himself with pouring six more drinks, as this particular stranger's heartbeat he recognized. It was a melody committed to memory, for how could he ever forget a heart which had so closely neared his own?

Oh, the Montaracs were going to love this.

“A referee would be of use,” Marcel muttered, ushering not-Victor to near the table without even casting a look his way. That would be reserved for later. There was a lot of catching up to do. “We’ll take this slow, one drink at a time. I should make it clear that there is absolutely no magic allowed for underhanded tactics, understand? Immediate boot from the competition and the severing of one hand if you do.”

A joke. A jest. The man was rather excited, and it was apparent in the way he shed the suit jacket and began to roll up the sleeves of his button-up.

“May the least drunk among us win.” And after that, he tilted not one, but two drinks up to flow down his gullet. This was going to be fun.

MOOD

we drinkin ig

OUTFIT

fit

LOCATION

the serpent's pit

TAGS

MisaMai Dicentra smolfluffball Steve Jobs

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[MisaMai]

As is common in moments when the universe deems the circumstances too implausible to function in an ordinary manner, the world seemed temporarily to slow. At least, this is what happened for a few brief seconds from Emile’s perspective. The main reason as to why this was happening was likely do to the fact that the champagne bubbles had finally traveled all the way to the top of his head. This indicated that the alcohol had finally taken a small amount of control over his functions. The primary functions currently being affected seemed to be mental, but that could change if more alcohol were added to the equation and, given the evenings current events, it was likely to happen very soon.

As usually occurred, Emile became aware of this phenomena due to a warmth in his ears. This was all the same to him as he had planned on drinking enough this evening to forget he was in a room full of the most powerful and terrifying of Noxium. However, the fact that the following events occurred in tandem with the spirits sudden intervention made things less than ideal. The first event to send Emile down a rabbit hole of very intense emotion was simply Marcel, Alpha of the Duncan pack, very graciously accepting a flower from Eleanor, High Priestess of the Woodbane coven, and tucking it rather carefully behind his ear.

This left Emile with a bit to unpack mentally. The first and foremost emotion he felt was pride. Eleanor, for all her strengths, still struggled socially and to see her take control of a situation, even in her own small way, made something inside of his chest warm brighter than a Sun. She had already grow so much from the girl of 14 he had first met all those years ago and, in that moment, she seemed fully capable of anything.

Secondly, the flower itself. Moreso, the treatment of said flower. Understandably, the Alpha wouldn’t want to offend the Woodbanes and refusing a gift from the High Priestess would be considered an offense at a very basic level. However, the way in which the flower was treated was….well, reverential. Perhaps “reverential” was not the best word to use, but the fact that it wasn’t placed into a jacket pocket or even as a form of boutonniere, as might have been perfectly appropriate, but was instead placed behind an ear where, given the man’s monolithic stature, would ensure it would be out of reach of almost anyone else for the entire evening.

That brought up the “almost anyone else” in question, as few were large enough to quite meet the Alpha’s magisterial height. Before Emile’s brain had developed enough space to fully process the exchanging of the flower, he was made aware of two new additions to the group. The first of these additions was also of a galactic size, nearly mountainous enough to meet the Alpha’s king-sized height. The second was of much, much smaller proportion. Small enough, in fact, to put into perspective to Emile that he was, in fact, of a somewhat average height and not the size of an unfortunate toddler.

The shorter, he recognized immediately, mostly due to the fact that he did not have to strain his neck to look up at her. Kaya Osbourne, revered daughter of the Osbourne family, was well known throughout Noxium. Those who did not know her by sight certainly knew of her through rumor. The rumors generally accounted for gross use of public amenities in order to work on her art. Although many of the rumors were likely untrue, the fact remained that the Osbourne daughter had gained herself a reputation as an eccentric. Her outfit seemed to compliment this idea. Though she undoubtedly looked stunning in her attire, it was certainly contrary to most of what was present tonight. Emile had heard that she was something of a director and had been interested in viewing her works for a while, though he had simply never found the time nor the gumption to ask.

As for the taller, it took Emile a solid two seconds of staring to properly realize what he was looking at. It had been a regrettably long time since Emile had been a boy but he did remember developing something of an infatuation with Superman when he was young. Something about a man of such incredible strength having to hide who he was truly seemed to resonate with him from the first time he picked up a Superman comic. He not only felt he could relate to the Kryptonite afflicted superhero, he also developed the first crush he could remember on the well-drawn work of fiction. For some ungodly reason, the man standing before him had deemed it appropriate to adopt a somewhat Klark Kent-esque disguise. And it did nothing to quiet the somewhat intense emotions now racqueting bodily within the confines of Emile’s skull.

Emile had not known Victor well when he had left. They had only been friends a meager two years before the man had left Noxium. Truth be told, he didn’t know the man well now. He knew that they could sit in companiable silence for extended periods of time and that Vic was an excellent listener but that seemed to encompass the entirety of their relationship. For every 50 words Emile spoke it seemed Victor only spoke one. That hadn’t detracted from the closeness Emile had felt towards Vic before he left and even during his absence. There had been times when the (significantly) taller man had been away where Emile would call just to feel some semblance of that connection again. If Emile were being honest with himself-

That thought rather got away from him as Emile found his body had, in fact, been affected by the champagne and had moved of its own accord to embrace the tall and rather poorly disguised man in front of him. It seemed that his body was more aware of the fact that 8 years was a hell of a long time than his brain seemed to be and his body seemed to be rather interested in offering a welcome back of sorts. Given the height difference alone, the hug proved to be a rather awkward affair with Emile’s arms briefly squeezing the man around the waist before just as quickly releasing him and taking a hasty step back. Unsure of what to do or, honestly, what he had just done, Emile took approximately half a second to look forlornly at his hand before adjusting his glasses, turning fully around to face the table, and pulling a small flask out of his pocket.

This entire series of events lasted approximately 5 seconds in real time. In Emile time, it seemed to last about 10 minutes.

“Apologies,” He said, twisting the top off of the flask. “Thought you were someone else….” He sprinkled a few drops of absinthe from the flask into the first champagne flute he came into contact with before placing the flask on the table and taking a rather healthy gulp of the bubbly liquid. “The flask is absinthe, Marc, if you would like to spice up the champagne.” He grinned at Eleanor, allowing as much of the pride as he had felt earlier warm his smile. “Would you like a glass as well?” He offered. “And, of course, Miss Osbourne, would you like some champagne?” He offered the woman a glass, making an active effort not to so much as glance at Victor as he did so. Perhaps he should add more absinth to his own glass…

the book keeper

Emile.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Uniko]

location

Dupont Ballroom

interactions

Mentions Ilyas, Vivian -> With Cailan Sadies and Lysander Vivi

"Can you please make sure there is enough lamb chops available at all the food tables? The Duncan's usually eat those right up." A sharp look was made to the right where a young server was balancing a silver tray of freshly assorted butter garlic eyeballs. "No, no, you can not just serve it so plainly like that. Where is the garnishing? For hell's sake, has no one ever heard of parsley?" A series of 'yes ma'ams' and 'we are sorry lady Osbourne' resounded throughout the ballroom kitchen by the various wait staff and chef that were personally picked and employed by the Osbourne matriarch herself. Only the finest of culinary professionals were allowed to serve such a momentous event as this, it would not do if the patrons were not pleased with the selections of meats, appetizers, beverages and the like. And while Viera may not call herself a certified chef by academic standards, her knowledge of cuisines was unmatched against most that tested it.

Viera sighed, settling her bony shoulders as she looked over at the head chef, her usual look of vacancy leaving a chill down his spine. "No mistakes." That was all she uttered to the frantic staff before she showed herself out of the kitchens and back to the ballroom. It was nearly time for the major announcement and she needed to make sure she was present and ready when it was time to take the stage. Her dress glided behind her as she descended from the stair case with the expected grace of a goddess. Everyone in attendance and working bowed their heads in silent respect as she passed by despite the fact that she has been at the ballroom for hours now, having arrived early to ensure everything was running as it should. If it was one thing that her and husband share in common, aside from most things, it was that they always strived for perfection. Accuracy in all things that held the Osbourne named to it. They would expect nothing less.

Speaking of her husband, it did not take long for Viera to spot Lysander off in the corner of the vast ballroom, his tall, lithe form standing out amongst the majority of the guest within the vicinity. From what she could see from her angle, Lysander was engaging in some conversation with their adopted child, Cailan. A smile formed on her lips as she witnessed the scene from her vantage point atop the grand staircase, pausing for a moment to take it in. It was not often you would see all types of beings from ghouls, vampires, the wolves, the witches, even a few regular humans and various other creatures of the night within one vicinity, to honor the same goal. This was Noxium what Noxium should be. The future of it. This is the ideal that her and Lysander fantasized about often, and after tonight, their hopes for the further of Noxium may finally come to fruition. She almost was tempted to request for one of the security guards to allow her to use their phone to take a few quick pictures. But she knew there was no time for such things, not when the surprise announcement was nearly upon them. It took much effort, but the ghoul mother managed to quell down her pressing urges at snapping a memorable photo opportunity and wisely decided she should instead retrieve Lysander from where he was so they can discuss any missing details about the event, and most importantly-who was going to make the official speech. She already knew Veronika would not speak, but either Vanya or Lysander would be the ideal option.

However, before Viera could make it down to the two, her sharp milky grey orbs caught sight of a familiar pair making their way to the main dancefloor. Her eldest son Ilyas, and the eldest daughter of the Montarac's, Vivian. A deep inhale rose from her hollow chest as she observed the young pair engage in slight chat, before taking each other in hand to move along with the orchestra. She looked away from the scene, not wanting her son, or any other onlookers to catch sight of her displeased gaze. Town gossip always spreads quickly within Noxium. Even the smallest gesture to the wrong person could have its repercussions. Her current prerogative was to ensure the ball went according to plan. She would allow them to have their moment of respite before things take a much more hectic tone once the grand announcement was made. She could only hope that her eldest child rehearsed and prepared for this moment as he should have.

Moving with the grace of a feline, Viera's chiffon curve hugging dress flowed gracefully around her form, accentuating every part of her body with carefully crafted gems and jewels adorning her bodice. It was a gifted piece from one of her favorite designers in Morocco, and she found that this event would be perfect time to debut it. Her and the Moroccan designer were good friends, and they knew her particular tastes well. Silks, chiffons, corsets—with all sorts of shades varying from tans, browns and creams. Some may find her tastes in fashion on the more, delicate and minimalistic side but the way she sees it, is that when you have lived the sort of life she’s had, for as long as she’s have, you will begin to want to approach life with nothing but ease and simplicity when applicable.

While she navigated through the crowd of the rich, famous and those inbetween, all the while issuing her proper greetings and nods of acknowledgments, her haunting eyes were also watching the dark corners of the ballroom, mentally noting the positioning of the security detail they hired for tonight’s event. She was content to note that they were posted at their proper points, but for some inexplicable reason—she felt something was still off. Her graceful pace unconsciously quickened with haste.

She finally located her objects of desire, and a soft smile appeared on her lips as she slowed to a stop next to two individuals standing in a corner, away from the heart of the party.

Slim fingers silently closed over considerably thin but masculine shoulders, and slid down their chest as the ghoul mother leaned in behind her adopted child, “What are my two favorite boys in the world doing over here in the corner? Last I checked, the fun was that way.” Viera teased, placing a motherly peck on Cailans cheek. “And have you eaten yet? I made sure the chefs prepared your favorite appetizers.” She fussed over him before her grey eyes trailed over to the handsome form of her husband, the renowned Father of ghouls, Lysander and gave him a wink as she leaned off of her quiet son but stil kept a gentle hand on his shoulders as she addressed the patriarch. She noted that he was wearing one of her favorite attires of his, and wondered if he was aware of that. They did not arrive to together being that Viera wanted to be at the venue early to ensure everything was as it should be before the guests arrived.

“Darling, I…” She started but her voice trailed off as there was sudden commotion happening towards the middle of the ballroom and Viera paused in her thoughts to glance over at what was causing such a disruption amongst the crowd. And it was just as she figured, the heads of the Montarac clan had finally arrived. She expected no less from Veronika and Vanya, they were never on time, even for their own headlined endorsed events. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the notoriously morbid pair typical outlandish shenanigans, the pale haired woman simply emitted a hum and directed her attention back to Lysander.

“As I was saying, my dear, have you spoken to Vanya yet about who is to make the main announcement tonight in regards to the engagement? Veronika stated she would like Vanya to make the announcement but—I am unsure, what do you think? This is our sons first major moment in his life, I do not want this to become tarnished in any way possible.” Viera stated, her naturally smooth honeyed tone dropping a minor octave. Which was always a clear sign to anyone that she was dead serious(literally). This town, as enriching and magnificent as it was, it was also just as unforgiving. Elitism was how you survived in their realm. It was all they knew, which meant they were at forefront of all scrutiny. But as a mother, she’d be damned if she let one of her own suffer through the towns torment.

Viera Osbourne

♡design by sirnateunknown, coded by uxie♡

 

[Israel]

Zuriel Montarac

Location: Dupont Ballroom | Interactions: Onyx Duncan ( Uniko ) | Mentions: Alexei Montarac ( AreSneksSly ), Delori ( -ferret- )| Outfit: Cocktail Attire #1
Zuriel had watched the youngest sibling's interaction with great interest. While he was certainly feeling tempted to step-in, the dark blue-haired man knew that the youngest Montarac sibling could handle himself without his intervention. However, it would not be long before the attention he was giving to his sibling's interaction would not go unnoticed. One of the pack's eyes met the intimidating gaze of Zuriel, and the vampire could tell that the wolf took it as a challenge. A quirk of his lip turned into a small smile, and he knew exactly what was about to happen.

The wolf, Onyx, was quick to approach the middle son of the Montaracs. Zuriel noticed that he was being trailed by Delori. Such an... interesting duo. The blue-haired vampire watched the two get closer and closer. The young vampire could've easily avoided the small collision, but instead enjoyed the predictable interaction with much pleasure. While he certainly would've enjoyed not being drenched by the liquid in his glass, he was not entirely miffed by the situation. This would not be first time, nor the last time, that his clothes would be drenched by a red liquid. "Oh, I do apologize!" The Montarac chuckled with a small smile, going along with the wolf's blaming the situation on him. "I must've not noticed you because of your... stature." The grin remained on his lips. His electric blue eyes were quick to appraise the young wolf standing before him. Zuriel couldn't help but admire him for his boldness. Most other beings would've cowered in fear, however this young wolf took him as a challenge. A current of pleasure ran through the dark-haired vampire. Oh, how he was going to completely enjoy this situation. "You're not as easily noticeable as your alpha or beta." Zuriel contined. "Not that that has anything to do with your current ranking. I mean, I'm sure you're more capable in some ways compared to your beta?" Zuriel swirled the remaining liquid in his glass a bit before taking a small, calculated sip. He watched the wolf with a predatory gaze, something akin to a cat watching a small mouse. Onlookers could tell that the middle son was completely enjoying the interaction.

 

[Horror]

Vanya Montarac

mood.

Calmed

[/comment]

location.

Dupont Ballroom

tags.

Wxnter

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Sound weaves a braiding, a bridge between the heart and the mind. When it is in disorder, it has calamitous effects on both. How careless, was the one who spun this dissonant song, a plague on the ears that immediately soured his good mood. Jarringly discordant notes were borne up the wind, they played along the ballroom walls, and assaulted his senses in sequence. Each press of the key whipped him, and his gaze darkened with every strike. Vanya fought the urge to scream, to lash out at the source of the misery—the music echoed in his mind, crawling through his veins like a thousand tiny spiders.

Words from his wife cut through the oppressive discord that hung over his head. Immediately, he turned to her and brightened. A calm simper pranced onto his face and his eyelids became half-shut in an affectionate smile. “Then let us be among the first.” His arm wrapped around her and brought her close, in spite of the clamor that abraded his eardrums. He allowed her to lead, while his mind was elsewhere. It was impossible to focus on her and his steps were messy and without substance. After a few more sloppy attempts, he released her and lowered his head. “I apologize... I must correct this, this ... utterly offensive noise. I cannot dance while it goes on.”

As he turned his head, the scowl shot back onto his face. He spun in the direction of the song and a slow promenade carried his body to the origin. Vanya moved forward determinedly, his limbs pushing through the groupings of people. His eyes were set upon the figure at the piano, the source of the discordant melody.

Standing tall, Vanya glared down at the pianist. His brow furrowed in distress, and his mouth opened in disbelief. The pianist, seemingly unaware of the silent accusation, continued her playing. Her devilment waxed apace as her fingers ran across the keys. Her eyes were alight with passion, as if she was in a trance, oblivious to the chaos her song weaved. He reached out and grabbed hold of the pianist's wrist, the unforeseen movement causing her to cease her melody abruptly. Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth became agape as her fingers died on the keys.

Pale eyes blazed with indignation as his voice crackled with fire. "What do you think you are doing? Do you not realize how your playing has ruined the atmosphere? You have no respect for the peace and joy that this gathering was meant to be filled with. Do you not know how foolish you sound?" The pianist's mouth opened and closed, unable to utter a response, and it only served to fuel Vanya's rage. He leaned in closer, his face now only inches from hers, and spoke again in a low growl. "You will not touch these keys again until the music you play brings joy and peace to the guests. Do you understand me?" Vanya's grip on the pianist's wrist tightened, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Don't scream. Not a single sound." The woman nodded, her eyes wide with fear. She could barely breathe, let alone make a noise.

Without warning, Vanya's free hand shot out and grasped the pinky finger of the pianist's hand. His fingers curled around the digit and dug into her skin. He twisted it sharply, and the woman felt a piercing pain in her joint as he pulled until it gave way. A grisly pop emitted from the bone as it shifted out of its pocket. In tandem with the crack, her eyes wildly shot open from the sting. A scream was on her lips, and she had to fight hard to keep it contained. Vanya watched her closely, his eyes searching her face for any sign of weakness, any indication she would give in to her pain. But the woman refused to yield, and she held her tongue, her lips firmly shut.

Vanya released her wrist, his voice now softer, almost regretful. "Music is meant to be enjoyed, to be admired." He instructed. "It is not meant to be a weapon, to be wielded so carelessly,” he allowed his voice to linger. “Now play.”

Her neck craned to look up at Vanya in terror and her eyes were glassy with pain. She wanted to say something, to plead for mercy, but her voice was frozen in her throat. So she stood in silent agony, her eyes never leaving Vanya's face. Slowly, he nodded, and the woman's eyes proliferated. She had no choice but to obey, and so she turned her gaze to the piano, her fingers trembling as she reached for the keys. The music that followed was dark and frantic. The melody was a twisted thing, each note a jagged edge that pierced the air. But she never stopped, never faltered, her fingers staying on the keys until the last note died away.

Vanya watched the girl attentively as she played, his gaze focused and unwavering. He could feel the emotion in her playing, the fear, and desperation that was so evident in her every note. When the last chord echoed around the room, he nodded his head in approval. A smile crossed his lips and his eyes twinkled with admiration. "Well done," he praised, his voice reverent and filled with genuine respect. "You have a real talent." She held her hand to her chest, her fingers curled tight around the injured pinky. She felt the heat of its pain searing into her flesh and she fought to contain her tears.

The vampire stepped back, his eyes still fixed on her. He allowed himself a moment to take in her countenance: the fear in her eyes, the desperation in her playing, the pain that was etched onto her face. His gaze softened, and he gave her a last, parting grin. “Well, keep on then. The night is not yet done.” His figure slowly disappeared into the crowd of guests, their laughter and chatter washing away the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. His steady stride was purposeful and determined, his gaze scanning the throng for the one that mattered most. And then he saw her—his wife, illuminated by the soft light of the candelabra.

Without a word, Vanya reached out and took her hand in his. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He pulled her close, and together they began to move, their feet gliding across the floor in a graceful waltz. He felt her body sway with his, her curves fitting perfectly against him, and he felt a wave of love. He placed his lips close to her ear so that only she could hear, "Let us find the Osbourne family heads. We have an announcement to make.”

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[deliriousmishaps]

luka bazin

Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling. Makes no difference.

The degree is arbitrary. The definition's blurred.

location

Dupont Ballroom

interactions

Not a soul

mention(s)

Vanya, Jessica, Veronika, Emile, Eleanor, Marcel, Kaya, and Victor

tag(s)

Not applicable

outfit

Going in green

The flash of a badge, one forged in lies and lineage, deemed quite effective no matter how high-profile an event claimed to be. Invited to this illustrious soirée he was not. Yet there he stood on the stairway landing, waiting for his presence to be announced, it was an act he had seen in a film or two. Sadly, there was no broadcast of his name, title, achievements, or whom he was accompanied by (for those curious it was an object, not a person, the perfect plus one). Perhaps that would explain the silence that erupted as he joined the elite in their dance of deception.

As his broad frame descended the stairwell, a light tap echoed as his leather Chelsea boots made contact with each step. There wasn’t a sprout of doubt that Luka was in attendance with the intent of dressing to impress. No, the hunter was not present so that he may mingle with those who spoke in fallacies. Their lies were cloaked with their silks, velvets, gold, and silver. Luka was in attendance strictly conducting business, an informant had provided a tip, and the raven-haired brute was pursuing it.

Luka’s journey to the ballroom continued, his pacing seeming to decelerate as he surveyed the crowd. To the untrained eye, the conversations and interactions among the guests were harmless. Nothing about the residents of Noxium was innocuous.

Scenic in nature, as he reached the ballroom floor the melody that once rang through the vaulted ceilings had ended abruptly. The source of the cessation, a rather lithe vampire. Luka hadn't witnessed what had transpired between the two musicians, he only caught glimpse of Vanya parting the sea of people, like a manic Moses. When Vanya linked with his lesser half, Luka averted his gaze, his interest in what had caused the music to halt had dissipated as the waitstaff made their rounds, passing by him with platters of succulent meats and glasses of bubbling champagne.

Luka snatched a flute from one of the waiters before they continued their circulating nature across the ballroom. A thorough, yet efficient inspection of the occupants of the ballroom was performed. After years of navigating through the supernatural world, he could say with confidence that he could distinguish a variety of species apart. A skill not all hunters possessed, but one he was grateful he pocketed thanks to his forefathers. Take the Supernatural Brady Bunch for example. Two meek magic users, one sizeable lycanthrope, one unconventional ghoul, and a poorly disguised vampire.

‘If that’s my guy, that mother fucker needs to bypass the justice system and immediately be placed in an electric chair.’ That wig would offend the most indifferent of individuals. Luka had to relieve his eyes by looking elsewhere, he settled on the floor. The glossy marble tiles resembled the pattern of a chessboard. The attendees all playing a game of some sort tonight.

‘Guess I’ll just watch things play out.’ His pursuit wasn’t a life or death situation, he’d best enjoy the spoils of the party before having to actually do his job. He took a swig of the bubbly and continued to monitor.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Steve Jobs]

kaya osborne.

drink up

dupont ballroom

Emile, Marcel, Eleanor, Victor

outfit

Kaya eyed the flask of absinthe with some interest as Emile began handing out glasses

She'd had her fair share of spirits over the years but the green fairy was not one of them. Her only experience came from older corpses of a bygone era, before absinthe was reformulated for the masses. Perhaps it was due to illicit production or a placebo effect but the experience was more intoxicating than any drug she'd ever had. She could recall how the herbs and ethanol tickled the back of her throat while the wormwood threw her mind into a frenzy. She remembered how thinly she sliced that corpses brain so she could keep savoring the high that always came before death took them away.

The question was whether what Emile brought could match her experience. Even if Marcel disallowed the use of magic during the contest, that didn't mean Emile (or whoever made the absinthe) couldn't have altered the brew. Eleanor herself had a green thumb so who was stopping her from growing the most psychoactive herbs magic could conjure? The ghoul knew she wouldn't win this contest (she was a middleweight at best), but part of the fun was seeing how long she'd last against the other three.

"Only if you top it off with some extra green," Kaya smirked, taking the glass.

coded by natasha.

 

[-ferret-]

delori

The thing about Delori was that they enjoyed a good performance. They enjoyed toying with others and spinning them around and confusing them. But what was even better, was when someone else was the same. Trading barbs behind fake smiles and sugar words and expressing everything and nothing at all. It's the reason Del liked Zuriel so much. Zuriel was like Del, albeit maybe a bit more openly violent. They were both snakes draped in finery and adorned with human faces. Their smiles were too sharp, too much teeth, too much violent glee. And their eyes glinted with an unnerving excitement at the prospect of a game with rules only they knew. If there was anyone that Delori identified with the most, it would be Zuriel. He understood Zuriel's particular brand of crazy.



"Oh, poor thing! I don't even think Onyx noticed you standing there!" Del came up behind Onyx, a sympathetic pout painted on his face. They enjoyed what was looking to be a chance to play the game.



"Maybe you can tuck in your shirt and it'll look better?" Del hoped Zuriel could tell that he wasn't being nice. He was telling the vampire that he looked stupid with his shirt untucked like that. Though the strip of lace in the otherwise solid black button up was admittedly quite fashionable.



"Well I suppose there's nothing you can do about it now," Del sighed, looking up at Zuriel. They were bored now and wanted a drink.



"Onyx? The bar is right over there, we could get a new drink since Zuriel made you spill yours?"

mood

evilly playful then bored



location

dupont ballroom



outfit

the fit

playing...

song



by artist

mentions

viv



interactions

zuriel and onyx



tags

tags

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Sadies]

Cailan Ousborne

We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realized that they were inside of us. Charles Darwin

Male | 22 | Ghoul | Adopted member of the Osbourne's
-x-x-​

The sudden presence of a grip upon his shoulder snapped Cailan back to the presence. He swiftly lifted his head for a quick glance to see it was one of the heads of his family; Lysande Osboirne. He was one of the people who had willingly accepted Cailan's existence amongst them.
With a swift nod, he glanced back down at the wine glass and for a long moment, he was quiet. "These sorts of events just used to be a lot easier..." He responded without wanting to open up too much about how he felt inside, but at the same time he didn't want to lie. He still felt he needed to prove to Lysander that he was cable of the family name and didn't want to make himself seem like the fool of the family by worrying so much over something so small. It just felt that a lot could go wrong very quickly if anything was to happen.

Deciding he didn't want Lysande to worry, he attempted to perk himself up as much as that was possible for Cailan, an attempt was better than nothing. "I think a lot of effort went into this event, I respect that. I think it's nice to bring people together like this." He commented. Despite the tone, he meant what he said. Perhaps these gatherings were not for him, and the fight with himself was unpleasant, but he could see how much it meant to everyone to participate in some way.

The sudden sensation of touch, followed by the breath of a woman, came with the instant realisation that his adopted mother, Viera Osbourne, had now joined them in convocation. The Ousborne's, especially the two heads of the family, were always very noticeable in their appearance. Always well dressed, proper and would always draw attention wherever they go. Their attention to their details made Cailan have a high respect for them.

Cailan already knew that his 'not so outgoing feelings' would cause quiet a stir with Viera and the last thing he wanted was to upset his adopted mother, she had put great efforts into making sure the evening was to go well. He did not want to be the person to disappoint her with his dull personality. As she cooed over him, he felt almost childish while in his 20's. It was certain that only Viera, as his adopted mother, would get away with such clingy behaviour.

He felt a slight knot in his throat as Vivera seemed to want him to play more of a pro-active role in being the social face of the family. "I was just about to get some food shortly...I just felt it best to let other guests take first..." He responded and attempted a reassuring smile. Getting a plate of food was no huge feat and knew that it was an easy task if it reassured everyone he was having a good time.

He took a bit of a breath, just hoping to relax somewhat. Perhaps if he could calm his nerves he would find some enjoyment in the event.
I just need to relax and stay calm. Everything will be okay.
I'm not going to hurt anyone here...

Mentions:
Lysander Osbourne - Vivi
Viera Osbourne - Uniko

Location:
Dupont Ballroom

Notes:
Cailan is worrying about lo his Ghoul self.​

 

[AreSneksSly]

#

Alexei

"Tail between his legs"

location

The Dupont Ballroom

mentions

Roman, Vanya, A Wig-Wearing Weirdo

interactions

Roman

tags

tyranna

Oh, he is definitely coming onto me.

When Roman pulled back, regardless of the expression he was looking for, the only thing on Alexei’s face was a placated smirk. He could play charming and sweet and prudent (though the last was by far the most difficult, personally speaking), but when it came to manners of sexual innuendo? Flirting?

Alexei was the king, and a puppy had wandered into his castle.

“You caught me,” he chuckled. Taking a swig before putting aside his glass, he raised his hands, head tilted down ever so slight. His voice had dropped an octave, from a middling tenor to a honeysuckle bass. “I do find you attractive. What a solve.”

Taking a single step forward, Lexi placed a hand on Roman’s chest. Not to ready a shove, nor a pat, nor a tug of the jacket. Instead, he let it lay there, that smirk softening into something sweeter. “And you are right. I am a little jealous.”

That hand slid up to Roman’s neck before it yanked him down, cold air brushing against his ear.

“After all, your jacket gets to be draped around you, and I don’t.”

All at once, the vamp pulled away, lilac turning around the room in faux disinterest. “But if you think I smell that bad, I’d be happy to let you escort me outside so I can… freshen up, was it? After all, we can’t have a M—”

All at once, the air in the room seemed to tighten.

It was a small thing. A hiccup in the performance, a mistake in the music. But it was one that held too long, lingered where it wasn’t wanted, and one glance was all Alexei needed to know why.

Alexei liked to say ‘A Montarac knows their own.’ It was the aura, you know? How each of them carried a room, drew every eye to them, twisted the audience so they were all facing one way. That was how he knew his people, he claimed. Look for the ones who drew the most eyes.

And although a certain man dressed in what was possibly the worst, tackiest, ugliest disguise imaginable would’ve cleanly proved him wrong, that wasn’t what he was focused on. All he saw, in that sliver of a moment, was a head of white hair, hunched over some poor, poor woman who never even saw it coming.

He wouldn’t call his father intimidating. Sad, certainly, in an ‘ageless-being-driven-mad-by-eons-of-existence’ way. Kind of a weirdo, definitely a creep, and his gushy love mode was gross as hell. Which was exactly why his heart didn’t seize like a deer in headlights at the sight of Vanya through the crowd, why he didn’t begin frantically searching the room for any eyes on him, why he didn’t straighten his back and ground his teeth and clenched his fists.

He did none of those things, so stop. Looking.

Whirling back around, the mask on Lexi was not the ‘lazy, flirty, I-woke-up-this-way’ Alexei. It wasn’t the playboy, it wasn’t the goblin, it wasn’t anyone important at all. It was just Alexei Montarac, his face twisted into fury, his fangs bared for all to see, violet turning a dark magenta.

“Book it, Duncan. I’m not interested.”

And without another word, he walked away.

© weldherwings.

 

[Dicentra]

The Priestess

Eleanor

Location: Dupont Ballroom

Mentions: Emile, Marcel, Veronika, Vanya, Kaya / Interactions: MisaMai Dorodoros Wxnter Horror Steve Jobs

Respect is defined as to hold admiration for either someone or something. Eleanor was well respected in her position within the coven, quite respected for her unique powers, and occasionally respected for her secretly self-destructive work ethic. She had yet to be, though, respected by a stranger for creating her beautiful plantation - at least, that's how Eleanor took Marcel's reaction to her flower. The mountain of a man had not only bowed his head to her after receiving his present, but also tucked it gently behind his ear. His demeanor reminded her of a book she had once borrowed from Emile - 'The Gentle Giant'. She let out a soft giggle as she found his gesture to be rather charming, despite the hybrid's original intent to be brewed rather than adorned. In the end it was his gift - he could do as he pleased with it. Eleanor had no recollection of any past interactions and therefore no background on what his gestures meant other than what it was at face value. So, she only concluded one thing - Marcel was a fellow flower enthusiast. A formidable, colossal, and intimidating anthophile.

Eleanor's heartbeat was notably softer after her initial stress of the social event had calmed down. She could now listen to the music in peace, rather than tuning it out due to her consternation. And from what she could hear, she enjoyed. The flutes carried their notes with grace and poise, the clarinets hummed their bright arpeggios that would uplift even the sourest of moods, and the piano - oh, the piano. It was dark and rich in tone - every note a word describing a script for the audience to enjoy. Though the performer occasionally punctured the wrong note, it was hardly noticeable. It was as if all the musicians covered for one another for each individual slip up - a balance of concord - a teamwork of euphony. And a mistake or two was something no one minded as the melody was still engulfed in beautiful harmony. Or at least, so she thought.

A sudden silence fell for a moment within the room. Though many didn't notice due to their attention being absorbed in conversations, it was hard for Eleanor not to as her lips were sealed and her ears were listening. That momentary stillness created an uneasiness in her that left a lump in her throat - an uncomfortable feeling that often meant an omen.

And as it occasionally was, her intuition was correct. The music recommenced, but the notes carried a different voice. The trembling lips of the pianist as she resumed playing could be seen from half across the room, and the scent of bloodlust that coated Vanya's fingers clouded the air. Confused as to what had happened, Eleanor observed the patriarch briefly and noticed his expression fogged with love for his equally daunting wife and his smile that carried an evil Eleanor couldn't describe. But worst of all, she could see his eyes that relished in the sight of the pianist cowering in agony - an instant testament to what kind of person he was.

Eleanor's smile melted off of her lips, and the priestess soon began to chew on the inside of her cheek as she anxiously debated on what to do. She wasn't going to cause a scene. She couldn't - not with how many eyes were watching. She also couldn't leave the matter as it was - the held back tears and the muffled groans of the musician broke Eleanor's heart. And not because Eleanor was a saint or angel, but because having to abide to abuse was something she knew too well.

"I'll be back.." She whispered into Emile's ear before swiftly disappearing into the ocean of people.

Well, if Eleanor didn't hate the party already, she certainly did now. Apparently, people only got worse to be around as the moon rose higher. Tipsy individuals crashed into each other with overflowing wine glasses as if they were aboard a rocky ship, and the spit that flew from guests' mouths trying to speak louder than their neighbor was a task to dodge. And if those weren't bad enough, excessive sweat dripped down attendees' foreheads as they crowded near each other to prove to others that they belonged to some sort of social circle - the moisture from their temples making Eleanor uncomfortable. It was humid, loud, and packed. Was this Hell? Eleanor only thought of how desperately she wanted a shower as she approached the orchestra. But once she arrived she realized one thing: she didn't actually come up with a plan. Her desperation to help overcame her thoughts and she had not thought the whole thing through. But that was okay, when did she ever really?

And like a lightbulb went off in her head, Eleanor came up with a great strategy. A perfect plan. An unstoppable scheme.

Like a lioness stalking out her prey, she keenly and impatiently observed for the next server to offer her a hors d'oeuvre. Conveniently, a man soon walked by with a platter of some sort of brie.. fig.. prosciutto... Nevermind. Eleanor stopped trying to make out what it was.

"Thank you." She told him as she grabbed one, made a fist, and absolutely chucked it towards the pianist to whom had to dodge the flying appetizer hazzard. The server was understandably confused, but Eleanor had no time to explain. She beelined straight for the woman who looked at the priestess in fear - probably because she thought of Eleanor as a psychotic finger food flinger.

"Oh sorry. It slipped.." Eleanor casually told the musician once she arrived at her side, crouching, to pick up what she hurted over. "It'll only be a second." She told the confused woman softly. And without a second of hesitation, Eleanor brushed her hand over the pianist's pinky - a soft golden glow radiating out of her palm that was hardly noticeable. Though the feeling would certainly be strange to have a finger suddenly popped back into place, at least this should silence some of the pain that the poor performer felt. The musician, not understanding what had just happened, wiggled her pinky in disbelief and bewilderment, but continued to play all the same. The show must go on, after all.

"Between us, this never happened." Eleanor said quietly before she stood up straight, looked around to make sure she didn't cause a ruckus, and dashed off towards her safety net Emile once again. Unfortunately, the trip back to him was just as bad as the journey she took to traumatize the pianist. But nevertheless, she ended up making it back in one piece - just in time for Kaya to take the glass that Emile had offered her.

Eleanor was first intimidated by Kaya's piercing red eyes when she arrived earlier, but now that she was exhausted from running back and forth around the ballroom, she found them to be more captivating than anything. Thirsty from the sudden side mission she had completed, Eleanor grabbed a wine glass from a server passing by, and clinked the top of it against Kaya's drink.

"Cheers to a chaotic night." She told the other woman, still somewhat out of breath due to her lack of regular exercise. "And don't let Emile win."

Code by Serobliss

 

[Uniko]

location: One block away from Dupont Hall...

setting: dark, mildly brisk night, crescent moon

"Oh the horror."

“Yeah, I just like— don’t know about him Michelle, he’s just not really m—my type, y’know?” Said the damsel breathily.

She always went for a night run around the neighborhood, it was a great way to clear her mind, as well as an excuse to be far away from home, and in turn, away from her overbearing, alcoholic mother.

Aside from escaping reality, she figured it would be a good night to go on a run, and possibly catch sight of the Montarac’s at that extravagant charity ball they were hosting over in Dupont. Specifically one Montarac in particular. Alexei Montarac. Everyone in town knew of this charity ball that was taking place in the heart of the city, and that only the who's who of Noxium were invited. Not to mention it was with the Osbourne’s as well? And their cute son Ilyas? She just couldn’t pass up such a chance at getting at least a slight glimpse of one of the sons from either family. Maybe even a picture if she can get by the guards.

And that is why tonight, the college student decided to take a different route than she normally did on her runs in hopes that she will get just close enough to catch sight of the high profile attendees.

She listened to her friend ramble on the line about how the guy she met in her physics class is a ‘total hottie’ and that she should go for it, but her words were falling on deaf ears as her brisk jog slowed to halt- her wide ocean eyes taking in the sights in front of her.

She clutched her phone, excitement bouncing in her lithe form, “Oh my god, Michelle shut the fuck up, I see it!” Bright blue eyes shone brightly as she neared the grand building. She could clearly see the building from where she was across the street, about a block away from the venue. She could see the red carpet outside, and several limousines going in and out of the valet. And-wait, was that fucking Johnny Depp getting out the car?? She had to get in there.

“See what? Oh, no, really Paige? You actually went over there?” The disappointment could be heard loudly from her friend's end of the line. “Pfft, you do know they’re not going to let you in right? And wait– aren’t you like jogging or something?!”

“It’s fine, I’m not actually going in, I’m just trying to get a little peeksy-oop!” So focused she was on the sights before her, she did not notice the tall dark figure approaching from her left, causing them to collide, and Paige’s cell phone clattered down to the hard cemented street from her stunned hand.

“Shit.” The blonde girl stumbled back, swooping down immediately to pick up her phone, assessing for any noticeable signs of damage. “Watch where you're going, idiot. Geez.” She dusted off her jacket, and raised her phone back up to her ear, hearing her friend still chastising her for trying to sneak into the ball.

“Ugh, sorry some creep just ran into me. Anyways…” She made sure to loudly emphasize the ‘creep’ part, now annoyed that she might have to fix her makeup before she went up to the ball.

Huffing, she attempted to step around the random figure, but the figure moved along with her, remaining in front of her. Giving the guy a weird look, Paige took a step to the other side, but the dark figure followed, blocking her from getting around him.

“Dude, move the hell out of my——mmffmmmm!” The young woman was suddenly taken by the neck, the soles of her feet elevating off the ground as her now assailant lifted her up with a single grip around her throat. What felt like sharp claws piercing the thin skin, causing rivulets of blood to drip down from the sides of her neck.

“H-hel-—” Her breathing was cut short by the shadowy figure's intense grip on the delicate sides of her neck. She struggled hard against the attacker, pounding fists, and clawing hard at their arm in a futile attempt to get him off. But alas, his grip held fast and her struggling only served to tighten the grip upon her neck.

The hooded figure said nothing. Made no other movements other than the deadly increment of pressure blocking her airways. The blood vessels in her eyes began to burst, her windpipe collapsing as more pressure was applied to her soon to be bruised neck.

Paige fought until her body gave out, until her limbs went limp and her voice silent. She fought, but she lost, and her life belonged to the winner, who showed no respect for her deceased body. He released his hold, her unanimated form colliding with the pavement.

An accomplished sigh passed through him, the breath that escaped him made dancing swirls as it mixed with the night air.

The moment was still. Perhaps the shadow was reminiscing, or mourning, or swelling with remorse. Ha. The man bent at the knee; his fingers laced around the corpse’s ankle. All that was heard after that was the sound of her ragdoll body grazing against the flagstone as he dragged her with him into the dark abyss. Her cell phone is a forgotten artifact on the pavement.

A spine tingling ripple was felt throughout the atmosphere.

On this night, their requiem has finally begun with first blood to mark its beginning.

Episode 1.5 - First Blood.

code: @s e v e n​

Spoiler: In case code does not work

“Yeah, I just like— don’t know about him Michelle, he’s just not really m—my type, y’know?” Said the damsel breathily.

She always went for a night run around the neighborhood, it was a great way to clear her mind, as well as an excuse to be far away from home, and in turn, away from her overbearing, alcoholic mother.

Aside from escaping reality, she figured it would be a good night to go on a run, and possibly catch sight of the Montarac’s at that extravagant charity ball they were hosting over in Dupont. Specifically one Montarac in particular. Alexei Montarac. Everyone in town knew of this charity ball that was taking place in the heart of the city, and that only the who's who of Noxium were invited. Not to mention it was with the Osbourne’s as well? And their cute son Ilyas? She just couldn’t pass up such a chance at getting at least a slight glimpse of one of the sons from either family. Maybe even a picture if she can get by the guards.

And that is why tonight, the college student decided to take a different route than she normally did on her runs in hopes that she will get just close enough to catch sight of the high profile attendees.

She listened to her friend ramble on the line about how the guy she met in her physics class is a ‘total hottie’ and that she should go for it, but her words were falling on deaf ears as her brisk jog slowed to halt- her wide ocean eyes taking in the sights in front of her.

She clutched her phone, excitement bouncing in her lithe form, “Oh my god, Michelle shut the fuck up, I see it!” Bright blue eyes shone brightly as she neared the grand building. She could clearly see the building from where she was across the street, about a block away from the venue. She could see the red carpet outside, and several limousines going in and out of the valet. And-wait, was that fucking Johnny Depp getting out the car?? She had to get in there.

“See what? Oh, no, really Paige? You actually went over there?” The disappointment could be heard loudly from her friend's end of the line. “Pfft, you do know they’re not going to let you in right? And wait– aren’t you like jogging or something?!”

“It’s fine, I’m not actually going in, I’m just trying to get a little peeksy-oop!” So focused she was on the sights before her, she did not notice the tall dark figure approaching from her left, causing them to collide, and Paige’s cell phone clattered down to the hard cemented street from her stunned hand.

“Shit.” The blonde girl stumbled back, swooping down immediately to pick up her phone, assessing for any noticeable signs of damage. “Watch where you're going, idiot. Geez.” She dusted off her jacket, and raised her phone back up to her ear, hearing her friend still chastising her for trying to sneak into the ball.

“Ugh, sorry some creep just ran into me. Anyways…” She made sure to loudly emphasize the ‘creep’ part, now annoyed that she might have to fix her makeup before she went up to the ball.

Huffing, she attempted to step around the random figure, but the figure moved along with her, remaining in front of her. Giving the guy a weird look, Paige took a step to the other side, but the dark figure followed, blocking her from getting around him.

“Dude, move the hell out of my——mmffmmmm!” The young woman was suddenly taken by the neck, the soles of her feet elevating off the ground as her now assailant lifted her up with a single grip around her throat. What felt like sharp claws piercing the thin skin, causing rivulets of blood to drip down from the sides of her neck.

“H-hel-—” Her breathing was cut short by the shadowy figure's intense grip on the delicate sides of her neck. She struggled hard against the attacker, pounding fists, and clawing hard at their arm in a futile attempt to get him off. But alas, his grip held fast and her struggling only served to tighten the grip upon her neck.

The hooded figure said nothing. Made no other movements other than the deadly increment of pressure blocking her airways. The blood vessels in her eyes began to burst, her windpipe collapsing as more pressure was applied to her soon to be bruised neck.

Paige fought until her body gave out, until her limbs went limp and her voice silent. She fought, but she lost, and her life belonged to the winner, who showed no respect for her deceased body. He released his hold, her unanimated form colliding with the pavement.

An accomplished sigh passed through him, the breath that escaped him made dancing swirls as it mixed with the night air.

The moment was still. Perhaps the shadow was reminiscing, or mourning, or swelling with remorse. Ha. The man bent at the knee; his fingers laced around the corpse’s ankle. All that was heard after that was the sound of her ragdoll body grazing against the flagstone as he dragged her with him into the dark abyss. Her cell phone is a forgotten artifact on the pavement.

A spine tingling ripple was felt throughout the atmosphere.

On this night, their requiem has finally begun with first blood to mark its beginning.

 

[Wxnter]

The Dupont Ballroom

Code by Serobliss

•

Interactions: Vanya, Viera, Lysander

•

Tags: Horror Uniko Vivi

•

CS LINK

Veronika Montarac

Darkness does not exist as an entity of its own, it is merely the absence of light. The same truth echoed about life. In the absence of her dear husband, there was only an infinite space of darkness, which no light could penetrate except his. Nothing existed outside of him. He was her light, her world, the air she breathed. When he walked away from her, he took all of his warmth with him, leaving nothing but a cold and empty space where he used to stand.

Veronika’s smile faltered, her eyes darkening in an instant.

A passing servant became the object for which she would lash out on, a creature so far beneath her, who committed the grave sin of entering her range of vision during a moment of intense displeasure. A delicate hand reached out for a glass of wine on his tray, and when his eyes trailed upward to meet hers, they widened with one pure emotion. Horror. It ravaged him and consumed him as a black hole swallows a star.

Veronika leaned in ever so slightly, dawning a sweet smile. “Drop the tray, and you’re a dead man,” she spoke in a gentle whisper, a flicker of madness in her cold, penetrating gaze. Beads of sweat formed at the young man’s temples, his shaking knees almost giving way under him. Trapped in a mental prison of Veronika’s making, he found himself unable to move as she blithely fed on his terrors, letting it fuel her. His screams died down in his throat as tears pooled in his bloodshot eyes. He scarcely dared to swallow the hard lump in his throat.

The melody, once sweet, turned darker; more haunting; more beautiful. It set the stage for the nightmare he was in. He watched his mother, old and frail, slowly rot away from a disease that ate mercilessly at her flesh and bones. He listened to her cries of agony, he looked into her eyes filled with pain, he smelled the scent of her decaying flesh as life slowly drained away from her eyes. He could do nothing. The gruesome scene played before him over and over again in an endless loop, each scene worse than the last, and every sensation as vivid and real as the waking world.

Time didn't move the same in this virtual reality of nightmares. Though only seconds had passed in the real world, it had already been days for the young man, who was trapped in this endless abyss, with no escape in sight. His cries for help went unheard. His mortal heart was shattered beyond mending, and his sanity was soon to follow.

In his head, Veronika's voice echoed from every direction as a soft whisper in the wind, beautiful but haunting, like the call of sirens moments before they pull you into the deep waters and feast upon your flesh. “They say dreams are the symphony of our subconscious. They echo our deepest desires,” she started, and immediately the scene changed. He now found himself kneeling in front of a grave, apologizing as tears fell down his face like waterfall. He could not raise enough funds for his mother's treatment, and the guilt ate away at him. Everything was his fault. Her death, her pain, her suffering.

"But even more beautiful are our nightmares, because they reveal our heart's deepest fears. They grip us tight in their clutches and fill us with wonderful dread..." Veronika raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, before setting it down on his tray with a far-away look in her eyes. "The shadows that lurk in the mind are paralyzing, and they take us on a journey through uncharted territories of the —"

Without a word of warning, a strong hand pulled her away, and she found herself in the arms of none other than her one true love.

As soon as their bodies intertwined, the illusion broke, and the man was freed from his tethers. He caught the tray before it crashed onto the ground, glasses of wine shattering onto the floor, and he scurried off like prey that had barely escaped the claws of its predator. He would live another day, but he would never be the same again.

Soon everything was forgotten, as the warmth of her better half melted away every bad feeling and replaced it with pleasure. All she could focus on was the face of the one she loved the most. A bright smile crept onto her lips as she looked deep into his eyes, which reflected back the same love and admiration as her own. "I was beginning to wonder when you would come back to me." She wrapped her arms around Vanya's neck and leaned in to whisper into his ear, "Never stray from me again... I feel safest when I'm in your arms."

The two danced; every step, every spin, every touch in sync. They moved as one, her beautiful smile never fading for a second as she basked in his warmth. There was no other place in the world she would rather be. Veronika felt herself falling in love with him all over again. She reveled in every passing moment they spent intertwined in a waltz, until finally, it was time for them to make the important announcement.

Veronika pulled away reluctantly, but she kept her arm around his as they walked over to the Osbourne family heads. "Greetings," Veronika said with a polite smile directed at the Osbourne matriarch. As she stood next to her perfect husband, she felt her heart swell with pride as her gaze trailed toward Viera Osbourne's husband, who only burned as a candle in the presence of the sun, Vanya Montarac.

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Ilyas

mentions:

Ilyas, Vanya, Viera, Kaya

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

Horror

Most of the time Viviana Montarac wasn’t as complex as her peers had painted her to be. No, more times than not she was simplistic in regard to her wants and desires. Take this situation for instance, all she wanted was a reaction from her betrothed. Viviana had gotten what she wanted, as she usually did, but it was still a sight to behold. The well-sought-after ghoul was flustered, and she inhaled every moment of it. If she was going to be glued at the hip to this man she figured she’d better have some fun.


Whether or not he could dance wasn’t a concern of hers, Viv just wanted to know if he’d entertain the idea. And he did, but she had a hard time deciphering why he went along with her antics. Obligation? Desire? Fear? Well, she supposed it didn’t matter at the time, she had time to figure out who Ilyas was, perhaps he would surprise her with a hidden characteristic.

Or maybe he’s exactly who I think he is.

As he took the lead golden irises never left his form. They were being watched after all, and if he fumbled in any way, shape, or form she would need to correct him. But there was nothing to correct, Ilyas had manifested the ability to dance, that or he had lied earlier just to be funny. Either way there they were, keeping up with the tempo together, their bodies swaying to the smooth rhythm that swept through the ballroom. It was nice, too nice. Which meant something was going to go wrong. And that smile that slowly crept on her feminine features only lasted a millisecond, practically unnoticed.

First, it was the arrival of her parents, who didn’t even bother to acknowledge her presence. This gathering was supposed to be for her, and yet she felt the spotlight shifting to the chilling couple. In response to their lack of interest in her, her rhythmic movements on the dancefloor began to become nonexistent. The vampiress attempted to brush it off, she tried to focus on Ilyas as his movement became less structured. While the attempt was cute, she couldn’t engage.

Next was the look of disgust that came from ghostly grey eyes, the expression was momentary, but didn't go unseen, and with that her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s face solidified her decision to not dance. Fuck her. That was the second strike. The third was the cessation of the music, while she wasn’t completely sure of what had occurred, Viv knew her father well enough to know that it wasn’t morally sound. Nothing about the Montaracs was. She was no different. She was an extension of them. She was a product of them.

And like that the little enthusiasm she possessed had evaporated. Her body seemed colder. Their fingers were still intertwined, Viviana removed Ilyas’ arm from around her waist with the hand she had rested on his shoulder. Now that she was departed from his form she felt even colder. “It seems the forces are against us, and I know better than to push back.” Viviana's lips pursed as if she was forcing words to stay put.

“We have an eternity to make the most of it.” she said teasingly, Viviana brought her hand to Ilyas’ face, brushing loose hairs away from his line of sight. “For now I think we should gather our siblings, our parents seem to be plotting, I’m sure they want us all united.”

The pale-haired woman offered a curtsy, more for show than anything else. “How about you go find your future brothers-in-law and I’ll find that darling sister of yours?” It wasn’t a suggestion, but it was nice to make it appear as if it was.

“Ta-ta.” Viv cooed as she departed. Kaya was going to be an easy find. All she had to do was find the most lifeless section in the ballroom and she’d be in the center of it.

Viviana

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Vivi]

「Lysander Osbourne」

“Indeed, I am glad for the opportunity, as rare as it is. It’s good to make the most of such an occasion.” Lysander replied to Calian. He understood the event did not come easy to the young man. Both on account of him being the newest addition to their household, and the fact that he was not yet accustomed to the particularities that come with being a ghoul. Nonetheless, Lysander found it of great importance that Calian be seen present with the rest of their family tonight. To ensure that his time in Noxium went as smoothly as possible, there had to be no doubt that he stood with the rest of them as an Osbourne.

Lysander spotted his wife making her way towards them across the ballroom. She was lovely in a cascading white dress. The crowd parted for her naturally - her elegance and quiet power unmistakable even amongst the grandeur of this place. He had always admired that about Viera, the way she seemed to move so effortlessly through the world, as if nothing could hold her back. He watched as she fussed affectionately over their son, and then those intelligent pale eyes raised to meet his own.

On the topic of the main event of the evening, Lysander glanced down at his watch. Yes, it was almost time. “Of course dear. I have discussed the matter with Vanya. We’ve agreed he is to make the final announcement.” He replied. “Don’t worry - we all wish for this night to be perfect.” Lysander understood her hesitation, truly. But he saw no reason for things to go awry now. If their households couldn't cooperate even at a time like this, it would spell a bleak future for Noxium. Tonight ought to be a mark of something better.

Lysander took his wife's hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, “Let’s return to the floor.”

They met the Montarcs by the stage entrance. It was a long platform at the center of the hall, just left of the music ensemble. “Good evening, Vanya, Veronika." Lysander nodded a courteous greeting to the pair. His gaze swept briefly over the ballroom, trying to spot Ilyas and Viviana amongst the crowd. “I believe we should be just about ready to proceed with the main event.”

Uniko Wxnter Horror​

 

[Uniko]

location

Dupont Ballroom

interactions

Zuriel Israel and Delori -ferret-

Mentions: Roman tyranna , Marcel Dorodoros and Viviana tyranna

That fucking look. He didn't like the expression that greeted him as the vampire lackadaisically turned to acknowledge him. It was challenging, calculating even. He could feel the instinctive need to growl beginning to reverberate from his chest. Molten gold clashed with electric blue's as the two men engaged in a classic scene of a cowboy standoff. He honestly didn't know jack shit about this guy other than that he was Vivian's other brother, and apparently some sort of freak who was into torture porn or something. But weird fetishes aside, what Onyx did know for certain, was that this particular vampire was affiliated with the Montarac's by blood. And it was practically magnetic with how the Duncan's and Montarac's were almost always fated to face off against each other. This time being no different, though to be fair, he was not aware prior to confronting the dark haired vampire that it would end up being Zuriel Montarac of all people here..

Onyx raised a sharp brow, his nose crinkling slightly as if he smelled something foul in the air, "My stature? You mean my height?" The taller male gave a noticeable show of giving the shorter man a once over in a clear show of testosterone fueled superiority, "Tch, I mean I guess everyone would be considered tall in comparison to you, so I guess that ain't sayin' much." A sly smirk graced his lips, as he assessed the noble blood sucker before him. He was probably about an inch or so shorter than Roman, which he was sure such a fact would elate the beta to know he was actually taller than someone else other than Del. Speaking of the compact sized witch, the inky haired wolf remembered the crimson dressed like damsel behind him. He stepped slightly aside so he wasn't completely blocking Del, but still remained in front of the Vampire, even going as far as to take a step further towards Zuriel-close enough that now he could smell the others distinct natural pheromones' layered underneath hints of cologne. Much to his disgust, he found himself not impartial to the scent but he'd be damned if he ever admit that. Though he did find it odd that a almost dead person could smell-well, not dead. It was much better stench than the ghouls, that was for certain.

The comment he made in regards to his alpha and beta was an obvious dig. And it worked. The growl that he was trying to suppress broke through his internal restraints and emitted like a revved engine on a classic impala. "How about you keep my alpha and beta out of your fucking mouth, let's make that clear, pretty boy. Second," Onyx slipped his hands into his pants pockets, bending slightly at the waist to move in closer to the vampire, lips curled back to reveal a deadly fang, "Don't speak on shit you don't know about, blood sucker." He spat out. Onyx was always itching for a good scrap, and something told him that this pale psycho would be more than happy to indulge him. His could feel his claws reflexively elongate, which were thankfully hidden within his pants pocket. Aside from the beta, and of course he would never dream of engaging the alpha in battle, the list ran short with the few that dared to match his provoking energy. He liked that, and if this were a different setting, he would have definitely pressed the fellow creature harder.

But unfortunately, his natural born fear of invoking the wrath of his Alpha will always outweigh his inner carnal desires, and thus, Onyx forced himself to relax his stance a bit. The growl he was emitting settled back into his chest and he shifted his golden gaze to the long haired male beside him, "Yeah, don't worry dude, I definitely want to take advantage of the open bar while we're still at this lame shindig." He answered back to the Woodbane member.

Onyx was more or less just ready to go. Back to the sanctity and familiarity of his woods, where the brush forests were his domain, and he made the rules. And while he did enjoy some of the exclusive events he got to go to due to his pack affiliation and rank, the charity ones were his least favorite to attend. He didn't truly believe the townsfolk of Noxium were genuinely capable of aiding others; especially of those financially less fortunate. No, these people were only here to flaunt their wealth and furs, all under the guise of humanitarianism. His father used to tell him that Noxium was once a humble town, built on the pride and strength of the wolves, but as time went on, corruption and monetary greed have become it's new foundation. And Onyx was certain that was what resulted in his fathers untimely death.

And he knew for a fucking fact that the person who did it was probably somewhere in this room full of blue collared jackasses.

Onyx blinked, realizing that his formerly concealed hands were out of his pockets and now clenched tightly in a fist, the sharp pain of his claws piercing his palm bring him back to reality. His breathing had suddenly become labored too. 'Shit, I need to get myself under control, before Roman-or worse, Alpha catches wind I almost transformed in the middle of the damn ball.' Clearing his throat, the tall male narrowed his eyes down at Zuriel, "Anyways, the names Onyx, in case you weren't aware, though I'm sure my reputation around here..." He made a passive gesture, "...precedes me. So you probably already knew that." Clearly the Montarac son was already aware of the pack. And how that was, he wasn't certain but Onyx would be sure to keep this guy on his radar, especially now that he has his scent memorized. "I want to keep enjoying the free liqour and food your mommy and daddy provided at this little party y'all call a charity. Sorry about your blouse, man." He gave Zuriel a condescending pat on the shoulder, but as he made to pass by him, the wolf dipped his head down close so his cool breath grazed the Vampires ear, "Oh, and tell your sister to call me. It's been awhile." Onyx whispered salaciously, his sharp tongue dragging over his fangs as he smirked. He gave the royal son once last pat on the shoulder before nodding over at Del, signaling for the little witch to follow. "Come on, I want to get a few more drinks in before we leave this wack ass party." He stated, though his mind was still muddled with thoughts of what just happened with Zuriel. Though he didn't want it to show it bothered him, much less to Delori. "What do you want? You like Mai Tai's or some girly shit like that right?" Onyx teased to the witch. Well, since Roman all but ditched him, he might as well make the most of the situation, and Delori was usually a good time depending on his mood, sometimes he was a bit on the extra side for Onyx's liking, but it's nothing a few shots of Vodka won't fix for him to be able to tolerate it.

Onyx Duncan

♡design by sirnate

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Alexei → Tortured waiter → No one

mentions:

Alexei, Vanya, Veronika, Marcel, and Onyx

location:

Dupont Ballroom → Dupont Courtyard

tags:

None

Roman didn’t need a pretty-eyed, petite, pompous vampire telling him that he was easy on the eyes. The Beta was already aware of that. Still, as Alexei drew the taller male closer his imaginary tail couldn’t help but wag. He was a sucker for a compliment. The darker-skinned male was tempted to issue a complement to the other, but he’d be damned if inflated Alexei’s head.


That little shit receives enough already.

When the heads of the Montarac family made their grand appearance, time seemed to stop. They were captivating in the worst way possible. They were like a pair of anglerfish, luring in the citizens of Noxium before devouring them whole. He praised whatever higher power existed that he wasn’t a part of the masses and that he could see through the bullshit.

Maroon orbs were hyperfocused on Vanya, something about that stride towards the pianist didn’t feel right, call it a sixth sense. Roman forcefully removed his gaze from the Montarac Patriarch just in enough time to witness Alexei bear his fangs. The taller of the dynamic pair held his hands up defensively.

Looks like he got that reaction he wanted, however, he doubted he was the cause. It didn’t matter he was able to witness it in all its glory.

With Alexei gone, Roman was alone, and he wasn’t fond of being by himself. Seeing how he had ditched Onyx and Delori he couldn’t go running back to the couple. No, Roman would simply have to find someone else to play with. He considered joining Marcel’s side, but he seemed to be enjoying himself in the presence of mixed company. It didn’t sit well with him, but he pushed back whatever intrusive thoughts bubbled in his brain.

Speaking of bubbles, he needed some bubbly. No, fuck that, he needed some fucking hard liquor. Roman headed in the direction of the source of the delectable dishes and thirst-quenching drinks. The kitchen was where he found himself after a few hearty strides.

“Where y’all keeping the good shit?” Asked the Beta as he began to rummage for goods, the staff remained quiet as the sound of refrigerator doors being swung open and drawers being slammed echoed through the area.

“There’s a crate in the corner.” the sous-chef finally said, annoyed by all the clamor. “Good looking out buddy.” Roman shot a wink at the kitchen staff before retrieving two full bottles of Vodka from the wooden crate.

Grabbing the back collar of some poor sap, that sap ended up being the unlucky gentleman who happened to be the same server that Veronika had tortured not too long ago. “Someone once told me drinking ain’t meant to be done alone.” Roman claimed as he dragged the young man out of the kitchen, across the ballroom, and into the courtyard. He let go of the man once they had escaped the hustle and bustle of the ballroom, and the server fumbled backward, landing on the rim of the large fountain that was the centerpiece of the courtyard.

Roman opened both bottles, offering one to the other male before downing a large portion of his bottle. Just as the werewolf finished his first chug, he felt a shiver run down his spine, this wasn’t a good tingling feeling, this was anything but that.

Fuck.

“Go back inside!” He barked, and the waiter tripped over his own two feet as he retreated back inside the Dupont Ballroom. That sensation was enough to sober him up a bit. With a somewhat clear mind, he was able to focus on his senses, and now that he had fully registered the night air, something didn’t smell right. Though everything was telling him to go back inside his damn self, he began to follow the lead of his sense of smell.

Roman

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

The end of order.

“

Never would he be blessed with an opportunity such as this ever again.


N E V E R.

Warren was going to absorb every moment of it. Not many individuals could say they conversed with a Montarac or an Osbourne, and even fewer could say they were entrusted with a task bestowed upon them by the heads of the households.

A shaky hand led five fingers through a bed of dark hair, slicking it back. This was it, this was his moment.

A pair of shiny black dress shoes clacked as he ascended the stairs to the stage. Warren walked (skipped) to the microphone, clearing his throat in the opposite direction of the device; he then spoke with a prideful tone, his voice clear enough for all to hear, loud enough to capture the attention of most.

“Greetings my fellow attendees. Thank you all for your generous donations. It has been a pleasure sharing laughs, tasting wines, and swaying to the melody with you all on this grand night. If you were to think that the night could not get any better, our gracious hosts have decided to share exciting news with you all tonight.”

There was a brief pause, for what he hoped to be a dramatic effect. Warren could hear mingling amongst the partygoers.

“I would like to take this moment to once again thank our contributors and to announce that our largest donation was surprisingly submitted anonymously. I must say you all sure do know how to keep things interesting.”

From his peripherals, Warren could see the group of four waiting. He could sense the dangerous aura from the Montaracs, and the patient, yet obvious look in the Osbournes, specifically Lysanders that he needed to speed things up. Warren did not want to keep them waiting.

“It is my honor to welcome to the stage, Lord and Lady Montarac, and, Lord and Lady Osbourne.” Warren placed his hand on top of his heart and offered a bow before exiting the stage.

The attention of the ballroom was now captured by four of the most prominent figures in Noxium.

”

 

[Israel]

Zuriel Montarac

Location: Dupont Ballroom | Interactions: Onyx Duncan ( Uniko ) and Delori Sallow ( -ferret- ) | Outfit: Cocktail Attire #1
Zuriel could tell that he was getting under the werewolf’s skin. The taller, dark-haired man was very easy to read. He studied every little detail about the other man: an arched eyebrow to indicate surprise or curiosity, a crinkled nose to suggest irritation, an elevated heart rate that only other supernatural creatures could hear, and a restrained growl emitting from the man’s chest indicating that he was restraining himself but wanting nothing more than to strike at Zuriel. However, the growl would not stay at bay and quickly, and rather loudly, erupted from the werewolf’s chest. Honestly, Zuriel was awfully good at drawing out others’ raw emotions.

The young-looking vampire couldn’t help but give a smug smirk at the reaction he had caused. He was enjoying it and a few onlookers watched with curious, yet cautious eyes. They should’ve known better to watch and the middle son’s eyes shot over to them and gave the onlookers a cold look. They quickly averted their eyes and shuffled away. While Zuriel didn’t have the same mental supernatural abilities as many of his family, he was definitely proficient in being just as vicious, if not more vicious, as the rest of his family when it came to causing anguish and mental fear in others.

“I mean compared to your alpha and beta you are more on the…petite side than they are.” Zuriel dug in with a small smile, obviously enjoying the exchange between him and the werewolf.This was around the time that Delori attempted to distract the vampire by commenting on his clothing choices. Zuriel tilted his head to the side and gave a crooked grin to the young witch. “Hm… sorry I had some… business I had to attend to earlier and had to get dressed rather quickly. Dry blood and viscera doesn’t leave the best impression, does it?” He hummed. Delori’s voice was charming, but even Zuriel knew that the voice was laced with poison. In a way, Delori kind of reminded Zuriel of his family in that regard: a silver-tongued snake that swung between being destructive and manipulative.

Zuriel wasn’t as interested in Delori compared to the werewolf. He knew that the witch probably wouldn’t provide any genuine reactions, unlike Onyx who was on the verge of wanting to rip into Zuriel. His focus went back to the aforementioned werewolf and, unfortunately for Zuriel, he seemed to have calmed himself down. Aw… right when he was starting to show his true nature. The dark-haired vampire internally sighed. “Neh, Puppy. You are such an interesting man. You have made my night a little more bearable.” An honestly genuine remark from the middle Montarac son. Unlike others who may have been fearful of Onyx’s temper, the vampire remained thoroughly entertained by their interaction. “Onyx… I’m sorry, I don’t recognize the name.” He repeated the name and his lips quirked into a small, cruel smirk. “An interesting name, Pup. I shall remember it.” The smirk had turned into a grin and there was a certain glint in his eyes. “I’m Zuriel Montarac and I hope you enjoy the… shindig. You’ll probably enjoy it more than I will.” He kind of muttered the last part to himself with a sigh.

He watched the pair scurry away and took the final sip from his glass of “wine” and placed the empty glass on a passing-by server’s tray. The dark blue-eyed man thought back on what the witch had said previously about his clothing and looked down at his outfit. He shrugged to himself and tucked in the shirt, which formed better against his slim build. He then unbuttoned the sleeves and rolled them up. He analyzed the shirt for a few seconds, gave a small hum, and nodded appreciatively. It does look better… He thought before heading off to meet his parents, siblings, and future in-laws. He snapped his fingers a couple of times and a server came by with a glass. The glass was filled with the same red liquid that had been in his previous glass. He reached for it and continued on his way to his family. The dark-haired vampire let out a small sigh, he knew his family wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining as his previous interaction with Onyx and he would need a few drinks to make it through the night. What an… interesting werewolf. The blue-eyed vampire thought back on the dark-haired werewolf. Something that genuinely perplexed the vampire as hardly anyone garnered his attention before.

 

[Horror]

Vanya Montarac

mood.

Excited

[/comment]

location.

Dupont Ballroom

tags.

Wxnter , Uniko , Vivi , tyranna

-->

-->

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Viera and Lysander Osbourne—the mother of ghouls and her shadow. Her guise was a temperate lullaby that filled the mind with a dream-like lullaby and carried the listener away into a pleasant haze of sound. To those that listened closer, they would find that her song spun a different tune: a lamentation about the loss of innocence and the natural disaster of violence. Order. It forewent all else with the pair, Vanya came to understand. Always at her back, was the guiding hand of Lysander; never more than a crack away. Always lurching, but never gone.

His pallid hand seized Lysander’s grasp into his own, his grip a feral vice. Vanya’s face glowed in a wild, ecstatic glint as he held tight, his gaze meeting Lysander's with an electric intensity. Even as Vanya's grip loosened, the hum of the vampire ravening birr lingered at his fingertips. “What a pleasure it is to meet you both again. And what a charming flourish you’ve arranged, I had to lend a helping hand to a performer, but the rest of the show was simply magnificent.” His eyes bulged with a wild luster as he peered throughout the venue.

Every eye in the venue was fixed on the four now and the silence that hung around them was palpable. No one dared to meet his gaze for more than a moment, for fear of being pulled into whatever dark realm his mind was in. His lips curled with a somber bliss as his glare fell back onto the pair of ghouls. “I would love to speak more after, but I believe we agreed to make an announcement at this hour?” As if on cue, the announcer called for them to take the stage. Vanya gave a polite parting nod to Lysander and Viera, his eyes lingering on them both for a few moments longer than necessary. Then, with a wave of his hand, he stepped away, his shoulder brushing against Viera's in a gentle farewell. The pair's serene song could not compare to the perfect ensemble of his wife, but Vanya could still feel the tremor of their melody in the air.

His arm curled around his wife's waist, drawing her close to him in a protective embrace. He felt himself tremble ever so slightly beneath her touch and he met her ear to softly whisper, "I'm here with you." Together, they strode forward, their steps in perfect synchronization, as if they had been performing this dance for centuries.

As Vanya entered the stage, the audience started a slow applause. His eyes shone with a fierce and ferocious intensity as he stood tall and proud. His eyes swept the throng, capturing their elation and admiration all at once. The sound of the crowd quieted as he opened his mouth to speak, and his voice rolled out like thunder across the ballroom. It was a deep, powerful baritone that spoke, “Greetings, my friends! I thank you all for joining us this evening. It's a pleasure to be here and to share this night with all of you. We have much to discuss, and much to revel in, so let us begin. Tonight, let us all open our hearts, minds, and souls to the beauty and power of Noxium. Let us embrace the unknown and the possibilities that await us.”

The audience applauded with decorum, interspersed with astonished muttering. Vanya paused and let a long moment of silence pass before continuing. "Noxium is a city of great beauty and history. It has seen much strife over the centuries, but it has also seen a great deal of growth and progress. It has endured through time, yet it has also embraced change. It is a city of resilience and strength, of hope and of courage. It is a city that has fought for its freedom, and it is a city that will continue to fight for its future. It is the city of our ancestors, of our dreams, and of our future. It is a city that we love and cherish, and it is a city that we will always protect." Vanya spoke in a loud, assured voice that reverberated across the space. He looked out at the crowd, his gaze piercing and confident.

"Noxium is our home, and it is our responsibility to ensure that it remains a safe and prosperous place for all. We must work together to create a future for our city, a future where we can all live in peace, free from fear. A future where we can embrace our differences, and where we can strive for better.”

Amidst the cheers and applause, a subtle buzz of uncertainty and hesitation lingered in the air. The faces of those near the stage were aglow with wonder and admiration, whilst those further back were filled with uncertainty and doubt. The air was abuzz with questions, voices rising and falling in an anxious chorus as they speculated on the true purpose of this night. Some shouted out their support, while others whispered their doubts, their uncertainty palpable in the charged atmosphere.

"I'm sure many of you here already know my daughter Viviana … perhaps intimately, in fact. I hear she's quite the popular girl around town…” The uncomfortable chuckles that rippled through the crowd were an awkward mixture of forced levity and nervousness. Some of the guests shifted in their seats, unsure of how to respond to Vanya's sudden attempt at humor. A few of the more daring souls risked a genuine laugh, though it faded quickly as their eyes darted around the room, seeking out the reaction of their peers. All the while, Vanya's face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on them as the tension in the room slowly grew. "But I must warn you, Ilyas, she's not cheap! You'll have to show her a good time if you want to win her heart for more than a night!"

"It is with great joy that I announce the engagement of my daughter, Viviana, and the son of Lysander and Viera Osbourne, Ilyas! It is through the love between these two that a new bond of family is formed, and our two families become one. Let us all celebrate this beautiful union of two families and two hearts! May their love be as strong and as enduring as the city we call home. Let us all offer our prayers and best wishes to Viviana and Ilyas as they embark on this new journey together."

The crowd erupted into a mix of shock and applause at the announcement. There were gasps of surprise, as well as cheers and cries of joy. The air was electric with emotion, and the energy that filled the room was palpable. Some people clapped and laughed, others cheered, and still more simply stood in stunned silence. "My friends, let us all raise our glasses and offer a toast to the love between Viviana and Ilyas. May their love bring joy and prosperity to Noxium and to all of us!" Vanya bowed his head in respect and gratitude, taking in the thrum of the room with a satisfied smile. He then gestured towards Lysander, his eyes twinkling with a curious glint. "Do you have any parting words for us, my friend? Any final thoughts to end the night on a high note?"

-->

 

[MisaMai]

Still in a mild state of self-induced shock, it had taken Emile a moment to realize what Eleanor had said to him. He raised an eyebrow at her, a gesture he was completely sure she missed, as she took her leave and walked towards the stage of all places. It was in this moment he noticed Vanya, who was possibly the most terrifying person he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Emile would be immensely pleased if he never had the pleasure of his company again. He would also enjoy spending just as little time with the man’s wife, Veronika. The heads of the Montarac family could be described politely as infatuated with each other and could be described impolitely as fucking psychopaths. The fact that Eleanor was heading in that direction had Emile momentarily concerned and he covered up his frown with another sip of champaign.

He also noticed, in this moment, something that perplexed him. It could have been a trick of the light, which made as much sense as just about anything, but it seemed Ilyas had been dancing with Viviana. Ilyas, of course, was a perfect gentleman and, Emile assumed, if Viviana had asked to dance he would likely have said yes. There was no reason he shouldn’t, really. That being said, to the best of his knowledge, the two barely knew each other. Unless Viviana was after another conquest, which wouldn’t be out of character for her from what he understood from snatches of conversation with Delori, he didn’t know why she would be dancing with Ilyas, of all people.

He lost sight of his friend amongst the throng of bodies around the dance floor and his eyes caught again on Eleanor, now next to the stage and, as far as he could tell, taking something from a waiter and throwing it on stage. If he didn’t know any better, he would assume she had just assaulted the pianist with an hors d'oeuvres. Before he could question the absurdity of that situation, Kaya spoke to him regarding his flask. At least, he could only assume she was referring to his flask. If she wasn’t, he had no idea what she was talking about or if he had missed an integral part of the conversation.

With a small smile, he set his own glass down and poured a healthy tot of absinthe into Kaya’s champagne flute. “The cocktail,” he said as he poured “is called a Death in the Afternoon. It was supposedly created by Hemingway, not that that matters.” He picked his glass back up and gave the edge of Kaya’s class a toast with his own as Eleanor rejoined the group, her mysterious errand apparently completed. He tilted his head in her direction, a silent inquiry into what she had been up to.

He didn’t expect an answer directly, of course, he was still engaged in a competition. One he was sorely losing to Marcel. Considering the man was more than twice his size in muscle mass alone, the game now seemed entirely stacked against his favor. It was also taking an enormous amount of effort not glance up at Victor, but he was determined to spend the rest of the evening pretending he didn’t exist for no other reason than he assumed the ridiculous costumery had more to do with his desire to remain hidden than anything else. He certainly wasn’t determined not to look at the taller man because previous regrettable actions might cause him to blush. That idea was absolutely absurd.

By the time Emile was reaching for his second drink of the contest, by which time Marcel had already finished three, there came a voice from the stage. Topping off his glass with a little tilt of his flask, Emile shifted his attention to the stage. An announcer, after a small bit of crowd work, invited none other than the ignoble head of the Montarac family, Vanya, to the stage. It was also around this moment that Emile noticed none other than Viviana walking in the general direction of their small corner collective. Without much conscious thought, Emile found himself taking a small step in front of Victor, as if his significantly smaller frame could somehow shield the man from the view of his sister.

It was then that Vanya began to speak. The speech started with general words of praise for the town and Emile nodded along in an almost mechanic way as he sipped at his drink, now resolute that he would not be having another after this. The speech then shifted into the precursors of an announcement which, oddly, started with a blatant proclamation that his only daughter was a whore. And then a teasing comment about Ilyas, which had Emile quite perplexed once again. And then the announcement in full that the two of them were engaged to be wed, which was possibly the most confusing statement Emile had ever heard. He had nothing against Viviana, she seemed like a reasonable if not completely misunderstood young woman. He simply could not fathom how Ilyas and Viviana could be a matched pair in any respect. The thought of it actually left something quite sour in the back of his throat. Surely if this were a love match Ilyas would have mentioned something.

He smothered his frown with a sip of his drink and his thumb began tapping an irritated rhythm against his leg. Given that Vanya himself had made the announcement, there was no questioning its authenticity. Clearly, there were strings within the gossip web of Noxium that he had not yet had the pleasure of pulling. Or perhaps it really was love and he was overthinking things which, in itself, was an absolutely preposterous idea.

the book keeper

Emile.

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[Uniko]

location

Dupont Ballroom - Main Stage

interactions

Cailan Sadies and Lysander Vivi -> Lysander Vivi , Vanya Horror and Veronika Wxnter

Mentions: Ilyas Horror , Kaya Steve Jobs and Viviana tyranna

Viera's adopted child, Cailan was certainly a delicate case that she's learned needed to be handled in a much different approach as compared to her other children. While her eldest son and daughter both didn't require much in ways of parenting, she had to admit they gained maturity quicker than most children did, yet, Cailan had entered the Osbourne nest with his own set of ideals and mannerism that were raised by another family. Despite being an Osbourne for the last several years and picking up on the life of a ghoul rather quickly, she knew he still was internally plagued by his past human life and the morality of being a ghoul.

"Well...okay, sweetie. Just don't wait too long, me and your father will be busy the remainder of the night, so if you need us, you know how to reach us, or find Kaya...your sister should be somewhere around here...probably with her little celebrity friends no doubt." Viera mused, giving the ballroom a slight once over for her silver haired daughter but instead focused her attention back on Lysander. "Oh he will? That is good news indeed," Aside from Lysander, Vanya was one of the-if not most, highly regarded leaders of their founded society in Noxium, if anyone could command a crowd-it would be him. But even so, she knew the vampire lord had his sinister side. They all did, in fact. Yet, Vanya was a total wild card, that unpredictable piece in a deck of cards that could trump all if unfortunately picked. Veronika followed along the same incalculable lines as Vanya, and as the age old saying goes—like always calls to like. When the two of them were together, it was more catastrophic than any natural disasters combined.

Viera's naturally cool body felt suddenly warm as could be as Lysander grasped her hand, his soft kiss sending a tingling up her arm, and she allowed her slim fingers to intertwine with his enticingly long ones. "Yes, let us go darling." She agreed, and giving Cailan a chase kiss on his pale cheek in parting before allowing the patriarch to whisk her away with him to the main stage of the ballroom. "I'm still worried about him, Ly." She suddenly said, referring to their adopted adult son. "He still struggles with making friends in Noxium and-I just don't know how else we can make him feel more included." She knew it wasn't the proper time or place for such a conversation, as she's sure Lysander would say, but the motherly instincts within her always managed to take over. But for now, she'd have to resign herself to wait to have this conversation at a later time. Tonight, it was about Ilyas, and ensuring this event ended without a hitch should be her top most concern.

Upon their arrival to the main stage, the Osbourne couple were met by the notorious Montarac couple, Vanya and Veronika, the inseparable duo were quite the magnificent sight to always behold, what with Veronika's strong, yet womanly stature always poised and golden eyes calculating, coupled with her equally strong eternal partner in darkness, it was simply no wonder why the world literally felt like it takes a pause whenever the two were around. Viera's polite smile automatically surfaced on her face, and she gave a courteous bow in greeting to the pale pair.

"Hello, Lord and Lady Montarac, it is our pleasure to see you again as well." The ghoul mother said to the two, as she arose from her customary bow, her eyes met that of Veronika's reddish ones. "You look beautiful Veronika, I absolutely adore that dress, is that a custom design?" Viera and Veronika were by no means the closest of friends. The most interactions the two matriarchs have had over the last few decades were only if it involved arranging play dates for their children during their adolescence, or mingling for a spell at a mutual parties affair. Viera held her own convictions in regards to the two, but knew to keep such personal opinions to herself in midst of moments such as this. Especially now that their prominent families were about to become one after tonight's announcement. Though, she'd be lying if she said she didn't occasionally enjoy the two's eccentric mannerisms, especially Vanya.

Vanya’s slight off handed mention of having to intervene with their musical arrangements raised a brow on Viera's disposition, "What performer—“ But before she could inquire further as to what he meant by that, their announcer chose the perfect time to finally call the four leaders up to the stage. "Well, it appears it's showtime." She stated with a slight wink to the pair, before moving to follow them atop the raised platform. Vanya's minor graze past her shoulder did not go unnoticed and her eyes reflexivly cut directly to the him, but he was already on stage and being handed the mic by the skittish announcer. She narrowed her eyes in mild curiosity, but nonetheless took her place beside Lysander, who stood on Vanya's left, while Veronika took her place beside the vampire lords right. To their esteemed guests below, they appeared as the picture perfect leaders of their modern day society and Viera inhaled deeply as she awaited for the Montarac patriarch to begin his speech, her grey eyes scanning the crowd for the kids, Ilyas and Viviana in particular, as they should have been on stage with them by now, she mentally shook her head. Uniformity was still a lost art on this current generation of young adults wasn't it?

Surprisingly, it appeared Lysander was correct for the most part in that Vanya's speech would be a well placed one. He had the audience captivated by the tremors in his voice and deep rich baritones as he spoke proudly in the name of Noxium. Even the mother of ghouls found herself oddly moved by the cadence in his words. Perhaps it was the better choice to have the feared vampire lord make the announcement of their children's engagement after all.

But then, the comment made about Viviana and Ilyas made her entire form pause, and a her placid smile nearly faltered. Did he just say what she thought he said? She winced and leaned in a bit towards her statuesque husband, "I know he did not just say that..." She whispered so only he could hear, keeping her almond shaped eyes directly on the crowd before her so as to not draw any attention. Granted, the backhanded comment in regards to the Montarac's eldest daughter was entertaining at best, but all she could think about was the reflection it may have on her son. She quelled down any further comments she felt rising within her throat and revitalized the faux smile upon her face as Vanya finished out his speech.

When he finished, the sounds of glasses clinking and shouts of excitement permeated the air and Viera was able to momentarily forget about the snide remarks about their children made during the Montarac patriarch speech as the noises within the vicinity raised several octaves and folks began to crowd the stage, thankfully being held off by their surrounding security. As Vanya made to pass the mic to Lysander, Viera decidedly seized the opportunity with her fingers brushing ever so slightly against his pale ones as she delicately removed the mic away from Vanya's loosened grip. The shorter woman out of the four turned to address the crowd before them, gown flowing whimsically with her movements, "Before my darling husband says his piece," Her soft, yet unyielding tone managed to break through the resounding noise and the guests all settled down to listen in on what the mother of ghouls had to say. "I would just like to thank everyone for appearing tonight. Not only did we raise more funding than expected for charity, but tonight is also in celebration of my dearest first born son and his bethrothal to Viviana, the eldest daughter of the Montarac clan. This is truly a monumental occasion as we are finally seeing ghoul and vampire, unite after centuries of segregation.” Respectful clapping ensued, and Viera the took the moment to survey the crowd, her orbs settling on her eldest son Ilyas, and she could sense her daughter Kaya not too far off as well. Her sharp eyes also noticed a sudden commotion happening towards the entrance of the room. It seemed a few security guards were oddly rushing out of the hall, as if they were on alert for something—or someone. She tried to dismiss it for now, given past events such as these, it was more than likely an issue with a drunken fool whose had one too many and being forcibly removed from the premises. She continued addressing the crowd without missing a beat.

"With that said, may I have my dear son Ilyas, and soon to be daughter in law, Viviana- join us upon stage to share in this amazing moment?” The mild warning in her tone did not go unnoticed by most folks listening.

As she awaited for the two to heed her call and meet them on stage, Viera turned back to her husband, showing the pale haired ghoul a private saccharine smile reserved only for him, before she gently relinquished the hold on the mic so he can make his closing statements.

Viera Osbourne

♡design by sirnateunknown, coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Emile and Victor

mentions:

Ilyas, Vanya, Kaya, Victor, Emile, Lysander, Viera

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

smolfluffball MisaMai Horror

Finding Kaya was an easy feat, she had surrounded herself with the duds of the Noxium elites. The Woodbanes and Duncans. Granted, a few were fun to look at, but in the end, they were beneath her, beneath Kaya. The vampiress shook her head in a disapproving manner as she approached her sister. That word had a bitter aftertaste.


Before catty words could spew out of glossed lips Viviana felt an arrhythmic beat in her heart that could only mean one thing. How did she not notice him sooner? Distracted by Ilyas no less, she was equal parts ashamed and furious. Out of all the times to return to Noxium, this was his time of choice. Typical Victor. Typical selfish Victor.


There wasn’t a force on this godforsaken Earth that would’ve been able to stop her from getting close to him. Not that flower girl, not the leader of the mutts, and definitely not that pocket-sized encyclopedia. Five cold fingertips pressed against the side of Emile’s face, and with the effort, it would take to move a feather she pushed Emile away from the poorly disguised man.


Viviana took Victor’s hand in her own; the squeeze she gave it was gentle, loving even, she then drew closer to her charming little brother and spoke in a whisper “Welcome back.” her words seemed more like a threat and less like a greeting. Perhaps she was so filled with rage that it muffled her hearing, but the less than subtle jabs delivered in her father’s announcement paled in comparison to the return of her parents' turn favorite child, or rather a former favorite.


The hand-holding came to an end and she walked off in the direction of the stage without saying so much as a farewell to the group. Viviana liked to think her relationship with her parents was the best out of her siblings. She possessed her mother's beauty and mind manipulation abilities and had inherited her father’s strength and instability. It was a match made in hell.


As she made her way to the spotlight shortly after her future mother-in-law had beckoned her to the stage, partygoers congratulated her, she even caught a few jealous glares, an eligible bachelor had been taken off the market after all. Joining arguably the most prominent figures in all of Noxium on the stage, Viv plucked the microphone from Viera’s grasp.  “I actually have a few words that will wrap up the night.” She didn’t wait for approval but did provide a smile that was far from reassuring.


With the microphone in hand, she gained the attention of everyone present, “Thank you father for your flattering words, it seems that the love between me and Ilyas has already brought something to Noxium.....” She could feel her hands trembling, her breath hitched, and her blood boiling. Her rage poured out of her eyes, once golden ones shifted to an alarming shade of red as she commanded the room, those who could resist her mesmeric tone turned out of fear of what punishment she might inflict if she was disobeyed.


Only a select few were immune to her hypnotism, and she didn’t really care if she could control the members of the other families. “I’d like to direct your attention to the back corner.” With perfect synchronization, the partygoers turned in the direction of Victor. Viviana then released them from her hold. “My darling brother has returned for my wedding. And I am so enthralled by his return, that I have requested for him to walk me down the aisle in place of my father.”


“Let us all celebrate his return to Noxium, hopefully, he will stay where he belongs.” Her last words were spoken with her lips closer to the mic and her voice rippled and shrilled through the room. A rainbow of reactions erupted upon hearing her announcement. Viviana handed off the mic to her lithe father-in-law, the corners of her lips curled into the sweetest of smiles as she did so. The eldest Montarac child then exited the stage, wanting to escape whatever chaos was sure to unravel.

Viviana

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Dicentra]

The Priestess

Eleanor

Location: Dupont Ballroom

Interactions: Emile MisaMai Viviana tyranna Veronika Wxnter Vanya Horror Viera Uniko Lysander Vivi

The celebration had been a rather hectic one, bustling with mayhem everywhere. It was hard to describe - it had just about everything that embodied madness. There were raging alcoholics who overindulged in expensive, but more importantly 'free', wine and now couldn't stand without swaying, musicians getting abused by the very clients who hired them to perform, and even waiters who had to fend off unexplainably jealous wives for their lives. The party even had a drinking contest where apparently no one was getting drunk. But, it wouldn't be Noxium if it wasn't going to get worse.

Everything happened so quickly. Eleanor let out an audible gasp as she watched Viviana press her hand against Emile's cheek. At first, she was confused on if the vampiress was hitting on her fellow coven member due to her infamous flirty reputation. Eleanor didn't know anything about vampire customs - maybe face touching was a sign of interest. But that thought melted away instantly as soon as she took a look at Viviana's eyes while she approached - they weren't full of curiosity - they were filled with bloodlust in a similar manner to her parents. Eleanor knew it wasn't a good sign, and just as Viviana pushed away Emile, Eleanor put her hand against his back so that he wouldn't fall from the sudden force. He didn't seem to have been shoved hard but any sudden strength on an unpresuming posture could lead to a tumble.

The priestess narrowed her gaze as she watched the discourteous bloodsucker have a short lived reunion with the oddly dressed man who had been drinking with Emile earlier. Frankly, Eleanor didn't care for whatever reason Viviana had moved Emile in such a rude manner - it was ultimately unacceptable. But just as she was about to say something, Viviana disappeared into the crowd as the announcer was beginning to introduce the figureheads of Noxium. So, Eleanor bit her tongue and scowled - writing Viviana in her 'No Help' list - a petty idea Eleanor had been keeping up with for years where she notes all of the people she refuses to heal if the opportunity ever arises. And it always does. Noxium is a breeding ground for bloodshed and pain - everyone always ends up at her doorstep at some point.

"Are you okay..?" Eleanor asked Emile as she pat down his shoulders to smooth any creasing that formed on his attire from his sudden shake. Unfortunately, her question may have fallen on deaf ears as the room was suddenly silenced and everyone's attention was directed towards the stage where the two main couples that ran Noxium stood - the heads of the Montaracs and the Osbournes. As her bouquet was still tucked under her one arm, she adjusted herself so that she was holding the flowers once again in her two hands - gripping the stems a bit tighter as she nervously darted her eyes between all of the leaders. She had rarely met with them and that was quite purposefully. The women were intimidatingly beautiful and the men were questionably sane - actually, that was just Vanya. Lysander seemed clear-headed. Either way, they all terrified her with their power, beauty, and most notably, their height.

Eleanor continued to death grip her flowers as even just their presence on the stage made her nervous. The bouquet wasn't going to help her with talking to them - she should've known better. But still, a small part of her stayed hopeful. That was until Eleanor listened to Vanya absolutely drag his own daughter through the mud. If he could be that demeaning towards his own daughter, who knows what he would say about Eleanor trying to give his wife a flower. She could see it now..

'Oh but this flower's beauty pales in comparison to my real rose.' - Eleanor is insulted for her hard work whether it's true or not.

'Just one flower? My wife deserves every floret in the world! This is an insult to what she is worthy of!' - Eleanor has concluded that task as physically impossible.

'She's actually allergic and this is a murder attempt! I'll kill you!' - Eleanor dies.

And the comments just kept flooding her head..

Eleanor was an overthinker, obviously, and has deemed maybe talking to Veronika as a nonviable option despite wanting to have a friendship her. Slightly defeated but still optimistic, her eyes then shifted towards Viera - a beautiful woman who was logical, justice-driven, and kind towards her peers. Eleanor longed to be her friend the most out of everyone as she respected her for leading a fruitful life where she was a leader for both Noxium and her family. The priestess wanted to be as respectable as Viera was - to be as confident as a figurehead as she was.

Eleanor glanced at her flowers, and then back at Viera. Her confidence was low, but she hoped for the best. It was all she could do, after all.

Code by Serobliss