Fantasy 𝓝𝓸𝔁 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓪.

[Wxnter]

The Dupont Ballroom

Code by Serobliss

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Interactions: Vanya, Veira, Lysander

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Tags: Horror Uniko tyranna smolfluffball Vivi

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CS LINK

Veronika Montarac

The mother of ghouls lowered herself in a customary bow, a gesture which was not reciprocated by the mother of vampires. A proud Montarac bowed to no one. With her back straight and her eyes up, she scrutinized Viera Osbourne as she raised herself and blurted cliches about her attire — a compliment which, too, was not answered nor reciprocated by the vampire matriarch.

The air around her shifted. A gaze that lingered a few moments too long cast a shadow on her mien, golden eyes flashing with ire. It passed unnoticed, disappearing as fast as a meteor in the Earth's atmosphere — an evanescent streak of light in the night sky. The feeling of Vanya's arm encircling her waist doused the embers of jealousy, and her breath hitched. The warmth of his breath as he whispered in her ear kindled something in her, sending a wave of desire to permeate through her body. All she could feel was the warmth of his touch as he pulled her in closer. "Soon when the night is over, I will have you all to myself," she softly whispered back to him as they moved as one.

There was one emotion that pervaded her senses as she watched her husband take the center of the stage. Pride. He dazzled even brighter as he stood in front of the crowd of lesser beings, unworthy of being in the same room as him, and unworthy of breathing the same air. With a glance and a well-timed word, there were only a few — and foolish beings they were — who would not yield to his influence.

A warm smile graced her lips as her lovely daughter finally made her way onto the stage. She was a rose amidst daisies, a diamond amongst coal. Viviana took after her mother and father the most, a fact she noted with fulfillment. With her engagement to the Osbourne boy, inferior as he may be, she would finally be able to experience the joys of marriage and motherhood. There was nothing more a mother could hope for her only daughter, and she hoped that Viviana would appreciate their gift.

Yet at her closing statement, Veronika's smile vanished. Time stood still. A moment of tense silence settled into the room as everyone turned their heads toward the back, where her dear son, Victor, stood. Her vision tunneled. All she could hear was the loud thunder of her heart as she looked at her once-favored child, who had caused them a great deal of anguish after he left home without a word.

A hand flew to her mouth, and she took an unconscious step forward, halting when her eyes grazed over her husband's form. "Victor.." Her dearest son. There was nothing she wanted more than to wrap her arms around him in a welcoming embrace. Like a guiding star, she would never let him stray again. Victor would soon learn a valuable lesson in his defiance: actions always have consequences.

 

[Uniko]

end of episode one.

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  Dupont courtyard >>> Ballroom.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

It was supposed to be a quick job.

Do a quick run around the perimeter of the venue gates, make sure there were no more paparazzi's lingering around; or crazed fans, and then head back inside the building to hopefully finish out the rest of the night doing the absolute bare minimum needed to appease the higher ups.

"Fuck, it's freezing outside man-why'd we get stuck with outside duty." Complained the reptilian scaled guard to his appointed shift partner. "We're missing out on Vanya's speech!" He had shifted his hands to go underneath the warm crevices of his under arms, "Not to mention his sexy ass wife." The lizard let out a high pitched whistle of appreciation for the Montarac Vampiress. But before he could continue his monologue, he noticed his partner, a short and stoutly descent of the gargoyles seemed as if he were fixated by something else up ahead instead of listening to his complaints.

"Shit." His partner cursed suddenly, and elongated wings extended outwards to propel him towards a different area within the courtyard. Furrowing his brows, the reptilian followed after him.

When he finally caught up to the Gargoyle, his gaze was directly on him as he slowed his run to a walk and grasped the other's shoulder, "What is the problem...what the fuck?!." His hold on the other dropped as they both faced the sight before with mouths agape.

Before them, was quite possibly the most grotesque scene that one would ever have to lay their eyes upon.

Propped up like sacrificial offerings atop the wrought iron entrance gates of the venue were four, severely mutilated deceased bodies.
The first victim was a young woman with cyanotic lips, her neck was badly bruised from what could only be assumed was strangulation. Scattered across her body were runes of an unknown origin, upon further inspection, it is noted that the paint used to decorate the corpse was blood that did not appear to be her own.

The second poor soul was a man whose eyelids were glued shut, their lower jaw was forcefully separated from the upper jaw, their mandible hanging on by muscled threads.


Bruised and battered, the third person on display had beastly lacerations across their torso and back. The wounds on their back could not compare to the damage done on their abdomen, with wounds so deep their intestinal tract pooled out of the open space.

The fourth victim was pale as the moon, the only color present being the crimson fluid that stained their all-white gown. There was a deep laceration wound that severed the jugular vein and carotid artery. The cut was clean and precise, her body was devoid of blood.

The air reeked of fresh blood, meaning these murders must have all happened in silent tandem.

The guard quickly backed away from the gore scene and immediately called for back up. "We are requesting back up at point one, there has been a murder-several, in fact." He shouted into his comms, before adressing his partner who appear ready to puke. "We need to seal the area off. Do not let anyone in or out, got it?" The gaurd stated but his partner seemed as if he were entranced by the macabre display before him. How could this have happened without their knowledge? They've been scoping the perimeter for about an hour and mostly everyone was either inside the venue, or told to go home if not invited guests hours ago.

He gulped, feeling sweat and a different onset of fear beginning to clutch at his chest. This was bad. Really bad. They could lose their jobs over this, or worse. Visions of his own mutilated body hanging from these gates surfaced and Viera's deadly gaze over his imagined dead body made him visibly shuddered, he was about ready to excrete vomit himself. Despite the renowned mother of ghouls tagline, anyone with common sense would know she was perhaps the most frightening of all the leaders, with reason.

The air was silent, nothing but the sound of wind and sounds of the city echoing in their ears.

"...the fuck happened here?" A voice suddenly came from the left, and they saw a gaudily dressed male with red and black bichrome hair approach from seemingly out of nowhere. He was approaching quickly, head turned up towards the night sky before his sharp red gaze settled on the horrific display before them. The two guards immediately drew their guns on the individual. Immediately the suspicious figure halted, holding up his clawed hands in automatic defense.

"Get down!" The gargoyle guard quickly barked, his hands were shaky on the pistol and his partner could tell he was on edge. He eyed the offending individual warily. For some reason he could tell he probably had nothing to do with this, but his sudden appearance at the scene was still highly suspicious.

"W-what...I just got here, my nose caught scent of blood and-"

"Shut up-I said get the fuck down." The winged guard stepped closer towards the man, his stance tense. The other guard shot a warning glance at his partner, noting the finger on the trigger finger. "Agent..." He warned.

The stranger emitted a predatory growl, his raised arms seeming to enhance mildly in tone-the defensive signs of a werewolf about to transform.

"I did not-" A deafening shot rang out. Followed by the sounds of a heavy drop to cement ground, and sharp bark of pain.

"Shit! Agent!" The lizard guard ran over to the felled wolf immediately, he did not touch him as he lay writhing in pain, but he noted that that shot was only in his right leg. He whirled on his partner, " You did NOT have the authority!" He bellowed. Crouching down, he inspected the bullet hole, as a regular gun shot should not have taken down a wolf of his caliber so quickly.

A smoking silver bullet. He swore again.

The other guard shook his head, "No man, he-he his eyes, they looked crazy. Like he did it-like he was going to do it to us!" He lowered his defenses and the other guard took that as his opportunity to disarm his partner, shoving him away. "Stand down, agent." The lizard bellowed, disappointment laden in his tone.

From that moment, everything happened in a flurry of sequences. Security back up as well as the city police arrived to the bloody scene. The suspicious werewolf who was shot was taken into custody by police, with paramedics going with him to aid to the silver bullet wound in his leg. The Montarac-Osbourne Charity Ball was immediately shut down, with Luka Bazin revealing his status to utilize his judicial influence to order everyone within the building to remain still and stay in place while the police did a swoop of the building and all it's inhabitants. Several weapons were drawn of various degrees ranging from specialized guns made to take down any werewolf, pointed wooden tipped crossbows at every corner to neutralize the vampires, along with priestesses aligned with the Noxium Law enforcement to neutralize the witches and ghouls present. It was clear who the most dangerous threats would be, and despite public opinion-there was always measures in place to keep these unpredictable high powered beings at bay in case of emergency. Not even the highly revered leaders of Noxium were able to repel against such a unexpectedly heavy force.

No one was allowed to leave Dupont Hall until dawn.

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

• The Noxium Tribune
• The Noxium Tribune Cont.

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• 

Written by: Uniko
Tags: Wxnter , MisaMai , Kovacs , Horror , smolfluffball , -ferret- , AreSneksSly , Sadies , Dicentra , Steve Jobs , Vivi , Israel , deliriousmishaps

 

[Uniko]

location: Noxium City Police Station & The Osbourne Manor

setting: The Osbourne Manor inside the council room.

Noxium City Precinct(NCP)

11:45am, clear skies and gentle breeze in the brisk of autumn.

objective: Those who have been detained are currently awaiting questioning .

An impromptu city council ship meeting is currently under commencement to discuss the recent murder at the charity ball.

Those who are not currently being held for questioning or part of the council are free to roam as they please until further notice.

"People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night."

It has been approximately thirty-three hours since the murderous night at the charity event, and the denizens of Noxium were on a all time high alert. And with feasible reason as the unexpected, horrific killings is one of the first in a long time. It's been nearly several decades since their progressive city has seen such grisly horror. But what was most surprisingly of the entire ordeal, was how and where it took place. At the Montarac-Osbourne joint charity event, such a high profiled event, and was supposed to have the best of the best security measures in place.

The townsfolk were in a whispering and gossiping frenzy, and what with the complete silence from both parties(Osbournes and Montaracs)who declined comment on the murders to news outlets, the people were left with nothing else but to come up with their own asinine speculations to satiate their curiosity

Some state it was a set up, others believe it was part of a Woodbane ritual, while there are thankfully those who choose to remain under a rock, neither sharing their opinion, nor looking further into it, willing to wait until further information is released.

So far, all that has been released to the public were the autopsy reports, as well as identities of those killed. Paige Michaels, Tristan Thomas, Luna Picketts, and Dante Zarchan. These were the names of the four individuals found murdered outside DuPont Ballroom, while hundreds were unawares, enjoying their nloody drinks, and mingling. Vigils are currently being constructed at the place of murders in honor of them.

At present, while certain citizens were preparing for either a funeral, memorial or just their typical day in Noxium-there were a few individuals in particular who have not seen the outside aftermath since that deadly night.

Roman Duncan, Victor Montarac, Cailan Osbourne, and Eleanor Woodbane were taken into custody a few hours after the murders took place, with the NCP having personally collected each suspect for possible relation to the murders. After spending a night in a holding cell, they were now currently waiting inside a secluded, bullet proof interrogation room.

Eleanor Woodbane, the highly respected priestess of the Woodbane coven, will be having her interrogation lead by none other than Ilyas Osbourne, Noxiums youngest, but frighteningly efficient and intelligent detective. It has been whispered amongst the department that the young ghoul stops at nothing to find his suspect.

Roman Duncan will be interrogated by the fearsome prosecutor, Junko Dragun. Having been brought in on the case by the higher officials, her talents for cracking every case, and suspect has earned her the reputation of being the best of the best compared to prosecutors in other precincts.

Lastly, Victor Montarac and Cailan Osbourne's interrogation will be handled by the somewhat newest detective to the Noxium police precinct, at least in comparison to his native peers-Luka Baumann. Bless their undead souls.

Perhaps the most astounding part of this incident, is that in first time in several years, an emergency council ship meeting has been called to deliberate over what happened that night. Not too mention the suspicious disappearance of the Duncan Alpha Marcel, and abrupt departing of Woodbane Supreme Alva, Noxium's most prominent clan leaders have gathered together to address the major issues at hand. Calling into particular, the current leadership of the two distinguished families, Osbourne's and Montarac's into question.

Those who are not being interrogated, nor part of the Noxium Council ship should be thankfully enjoying the lull after the storm; or before it, however the phrase goes.

Episode 2: Deceit of the dead.

code: @s e v e n​

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Spoiler: Summary.

Due to gossip, rumor's and minor evidence presented to the authorities, four individuals have been taken into custody and are currently awaiting or undergoing question by detectives Ilyas Osbourne, Luka Baumann, with further assistance from Junko Dragun, city prosecutor.

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

No one yet

mentions:

Eleanor

location:

Osbourne Manor

tags:

None

Change was inescapable, and J knew this, perhaps better than most, which was quite depressing. While Noxium wasn’t his hometown, it was where he established a large portion of himself. It was also home to what he liked to call ‘The Temple of Knowledge’, for the Woodbane library held magical textbooks that had been long forgotten and others highly sought after. His thoughts traveled to the state of his coven, he had been gone for so long there was no way a majority of the members of the house remembered him, not to mention the witches and warlocks of his beloved coven were flighty creatures, no one ever stayed put for too long, minus a few.



How many years had it been since he walked amongst these citizens? Twenty-three years. Definitely not his longest time away. There was that the summer of 1921, he left and didn’t return until the seventies, he claimed that a cult had been formed in his honor, but the coven members didn’t believe him. J wasn’t too fond of his following, but they did prove to be useful in the long run, willing participants in sacrificial rituals tended to have better outcomes. Simpler days. He hummed to himself as he approach the door.



The Osbourne Manor reeked of old money, he wondered how it had been obtained, surely through immoral means. Rich people had rich taste whether that be in attire, architecture, or food. What was the ghoul equivalent of caviar? Did such a thing even exist? Dammit, he was going off into another mental tangent. He had almost forgotten where he was or why he was present. Eleanor Beaumont. The current priestess of the Woodbanes, with a criminal record it would seem. This was damn near the equivalent of Alva serving him a home-cooked meal and then telling him the dishes were waiting to be washed in the kitchen.



J was left to clean up the mess she made. The faults of the coven members are the faults of the Supreme. Bullshit.



J pounded on the door twice, he could feel the sound flow through the door, even hear its sound echo through the manor. The one to answer his call was a petite woman with salt and pepper hair, she looked as if she had been serving the Osbourne’s all her life. Well isn’t that boring. “Council room please.” He sang, she looked perplexed, but only for a moment before she stepped aside and offered to take any of his belongings, all he had to offer her was the most recent Noxium Tribune that had been published.



“Come along my dear, it’s best someone announce my arrival.” He said as he beckoned the maid to lead the way.

J. Monroe

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Horror]

Ilyas Osbourne

mood.

Suspicious

[/comment]

location.

Interrogation Room

tags.

Dicentra

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As one steps into an interrogation room, a distinct sense of gravity and unease settles upon the psyche. The walls of the room seem to close in, a tangible pressure that presses down on the body and soul like a physical weight. The air of anticipation is thick, every breath a ragged gasp that feels as though it will be your last.

This interrogation room is small and sterile, with bare white walls and an impeccably clean floor. The lighting is harsh and unforgiving, casting every corner into stark relief and leaving no shadows to skulk in. The sole furnishings in the room include a table and two chairs, both of which appear well-worn and utilitarian. Ilyas sat in one of these chairs, his dark hair falling in unruly waves across his forehead. He peered across the table at the woman before him … Eleanor Woodbane, the highly respected priestess of the Woodbane coven. He had heard of her reputation, of her power and influence within the coven, and he knew that this interrogation would be a test of his skills.

While looking at the witch, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Her eyes were clear and as vivid as a cloudless sky; the contour of her face gave the impression that she had nothing to hide. But, Ilyas knew that appearances could be deceiving, and he was determined to get to the truth. He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table in front of him, and he studied her intently. He wondered what secrets she held and what lies she could be obscuring. He leaned back in his chair and his hands loosened slightly. He flashed Eleanor a friendly smile and spoke with a gentle inflection, "I'm sure you must be wondering why you're here."

The room was eerily silent, the only sound that broke the monotony was the occasional creaking of chairs. Ilyas took the opportunity to size her up, studying her expressions and mannerisms for any telltale signs of deception. The stillness stretched on for a heartbeat longer before Ilyas saw fit to continue. He cleared his throat and spoke in a calculated and measured voice, “I just have a few questions for you about the charity event, and then we can each go our separate ways.”

Leaning forward, he narrowed his gaze and peered into her pale eyes. "It would seem," he began, "that you had some rather ... interesting companions during the charity ball. Two individuals, to be precise, who are now nowhere to be found." He paused for a moment, allowing the implication to sink in. "I'm sure you can see why I might be inclined to ask questions.” Could it really have been a coincidence that she was around two people who vanished during the same night? Maybe she was simply unlucky, an innocent bystander in a tragic circumstance. Or, perhaps there was more to the story than she was revealing. Whatever the truth may be, Ilyas knew he had to tread carefully.

Ilyas leaned forward, his gaze intent and probing. He began with a gentle query, “Now, we’ve heard from some witnesses that you gave something to Marcel during the charity ball - a plant, it seems. Can you tell me what that was about?” Ilyas furrowed his eyebrows. He was aware that plants were often used in rituals and ceremonies, and he was eager to know more. “What species of plant was it? If these witnesses are to be believed?”

Ilyas's mind raced with possibilities. He knew plants could be used for various purposes, both benign and nefarious. Could the plant have been poisoned, perhaps with an anti-werewolf agent? Or, could it have been a catalyst for a curse? It seemed unlikely, but he had to consider all possibilities—nothing could be overlooked. Additionally, there was also the matter regarding what variety of fate befell his mother’s employee: Jessica Castro. There were endless possibilities as to why someone would want a man as established as Marcel gone. But to also remove a piddling employee? He could not manufacture a connection there, beyond the girl witnessing something she was better off not seeing.

He knew that he had to remain vigilant if he wanted to uncover the truth, and he had to be sure to leave no corner unexplored. Despite his suspicions, Ilyas had a feeling deep down that Eleanor was not involved in the disappearances. He could sense that she was not a malicious person and there was even a certain innocence and naivety in her demeanor. But, he could not take any chances; he had to ask difficult questions and not allow his empathy to cloud his judgment.

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[MisaMai]

When Bell woke up that morning, she had assumed it would be a totally normal day. She had spent the previous day alone working hard at a construction site and had slept gloriously because of it. Her alarm had gone off and she had spent a glorious hour getting ready for the day only to have a teacher at the elementary school call to say they wouldn’t need her today and hadn’t she heard the news?

She had not, in fact, heard the news.

Bell then proceeded to head to her family’s pizzeria to see if they needed help with anything. It turns out they did not need help with anything, but her dad had handed her a newspaper and asked her what the hell was going on.

She did not know what the hell was going on.

And she was pissed about it.

Bell considered herself an all-around good person and generally thought she had made herself a valuable member of her pack. She looked out for everybody, made sure everyone was drinking enough water, took genuine interest in the Duncan’s work around town, and made herself a valuable asset to the pack and the community. She volunteered to make sure the Duncan’s reputation in town was more than simply being a pack of wolves. She contributed to meetings the few times they were properly held. She brought her pack members free pizza, like, all the time.

And no one had bothered to call her.

Not once had it occurred to anyone to inform her that ‘hey, friend, the gala was a mess, Marcel is missing, and Roman is in jail or whatever. Also, maybe the witches are actually evil and how dare you have ever been nice to any of them? Oh, one more thing. Like, 4 people are dead and possibly two more including the Alpha but that’s neither here nor there. How are you by the way?’ No one had even bothered with a ‘shit’s wild’ text. No one seemed to even care. It was like telling her she didn’t matter at all and she was pissed

It took her a solid 3 minutes to get her hands to stop shaking long enough to unlock her phone and scroll to the only contact that currently mattered. After waiting through two whole rings, she hung up and dialed again, waiting impatiently until she heard the phone click.

“Hey, kiddo, I hope I’m not bothering you during whatever very important things you are doing.” She let out a fake laugh. “I know it’s probably so super important, whatever it is that you have been doing, but what the actual hell, Onyx? Seriously? The Alpha goes missing and Roman is locked up and you couldn’t bother to CALL ME? Or send a text? Not a single ‘Oh, hey, just so you know, the pack is literally falling apart’?” She made a rather lame attempt at an Onyx impersonation at this last part. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? Do I even matter at all to you?” She let out an angry huff of air and growled under her breath. “No, don’t answer that. You have a lot of explaining to do, you ass.”

She wasn’t sure if her nail tapping against the back of the phone was making any noise on the other end and, frankly, she didn’t care. She was also aware that she was chewing her gum possibly too loudly and, to emphasize her point, decided to pop a very loud bubble. Consider it an exclamation point, an audible indicator of how very dearly she wanted to punch something.

The Hunter

coded by kaninchen

 

[deliriousmishaps]

luka bazin

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

The degree is arbitrary. The definition's blurred.

location

Noxium Police Department: Interrogation room

interactions

Cailan and Rebecca

mention(s)

Cailan, Roman, Rebecca, and Eleanor

tag(s)

Sadies

outfit

Comfortable

Interrogation was a form of art, if he were a painter his brush strokes would be firm yet precise; if he were a conductor, the symphony would be one of deceit and tragedy; and if he were a dancer, he would be the lead and his partner the follow. Interrogation was a mental mind game, a true show of force. Luka had perfected his craft long before accepting his position as a detective on the Noxium Police Force. Unlike his peers who were likely performing textbook definition interrogations, Luka’s approach fell into an alternative category. He found that pain, whether it be physical, emotional, or mental, produced the best results.

Detective Baumann, as the public knew him, had reserved an interrogation room that he held dear, one whose cameras were finicky. Tickets had been routed to higher-ups for replacement equipment on a regular basis, and each ticket never seemed to reach its assigned destination. A foolish man would find such a predicament odd, and a dead man would question the one he believed to be responsible. “Room three thirteen right Becca?” Luka was wholly aware of the room he had been granted; Rebecca Stone made sure to give that man whatever he desired in the workplace, what was played off as a symbiotic relationship was more parasitic than anything else.

The rusted door creaked as it was pushed open. The light was dim, almost as dim as the mood of his suspect. The walls were as gray as the boy's hair, and the air was stale and suffocating. Cailan and the room seemed to be one and the same. A depressing reality. If Luka were to have it his way, he would’ve selected the werewolf and the witch to question, for those two would be far more interesting than the runt and the runaway. The hunter was a man who could make do with even the blandest of opportunities. This being no different. “Cailan Osbourne,” There was an uneasy air that swept the room as he paused, took his seat, and gave the younger man a once over. “The cursed charity case of the critically acclaimed Osbourne family.”

“You know they haven’t contacted us about your whereabouts since the arrest.” The smile Luka displayed was plump with patronization. “Families like the Osbournes want nothing more than to maintain appearances.” Menacing eyes scanned what parts of the Wendigo were visible. “And you kid, don’t fit the bill.” Cailan had a frailty to him, it did not earn pity from his interrogator, but it was pitiful to behold. “You’re going to recount that night and if you’re lucky, you’ll be released to your proprietors by the end of the night.” Luka situated himself in a slightly reclined state, the muscles on his back molded into the uncomfortable chair that decorated the room.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[MisaMai]

The night of the charity ball had been an absolute disaster. 4 people dead, 2 people missing, and one High Priestess brought in for questioning. Not to mention one poorly disguised vampire sharing poor Eleanor’s fate. Emile was still confused as to why Victor was back in town. He was fairly certain his sudden reappearance had nothing to do with the previous night’s quadruple homicide. He was entirely more certain that Eleanor had nothing to do with the previous night’s events. The woman was incapable of hurting a fly, and Emile had argued this with a rather put out officer for over an hour before anyone could convince him to stop talking. At one point he was fairly certain he tried to convince a detective that he was a more likely suspect and should be taken in her place for questioning. That had simply gotten him a series of incredulous looks. This entire situation was a mess.

After everyone had been released, Emile had insisted on driving Delori home and they had spent a few hours doing….doing something. He remembered feeding the duck. Evidently he had the good sense to change out of the tuxedo from the previous evening and into jeans and a sweater. The sweater was nearly falling apart, holes adorning the sleeves in an almost comical way, but it was extremely comfortable, and that seemed a bit more important at the moment than looking presentable. Given that he hadn’t slept since the night before the event, he wasn’t entirely sure he could look presentable if he tried.

At some point they had ended up here. ‘Here’ being the lobby of the station. Somewhere beyond those completely innocuous double doors, Eleanor was being held a prisoner of the law for, as far as Emile could discern, literally no reason. As far as he was aware, throwing food was not a crime. In fact, the only reason he could discern as to why she would have thrown food in the first place would be as a distraction in order to help someone, not hurt them. Or, there was a very slim chance she had seen a bird and didn’t want it to feel left out, but the first option seemed more likely. This had been part of his arguments when he was attempting to talk the NCP out of taking Eleanor into custody. It had not worked.

His thumb was currently tapping an agitated rhythm against the side of his Styrofoam coffee cup. The coffee provided here was about 12 shades below acceptable, but he didn’t have much else to do. It seems 7 cups of coffee on an empty stomach could really do a lot to keep a man awake. It could also do a lot to fray the nerves. He was aware that Victor was somewhere behind those innocuous doors as well. His friend had arrived back in town and, before they had even had a chance to properly speak, he was gone. Again, Emile was fairly certain his friend had nothing to do with any of the events of the previous evening. He still had entirely no idea what he was doing back in town and had not been aware of his being in town until the night of the event, but there was no way in Hell he had anything to do with the 4 murders. If anything, Emile was more hurt that Victor hadn’t bothered to tell him he was coming back at all. Perhaps if he had told him he could have used a glamor spell to help him blend in better. Wigs had always made for terrible disguises, after all.

Letting out a breath, Emile pushed his glasses further up his nose, staring into the almost sludgy contents of his cup. He had one slim hope left that Ilyas was handling the interrogation. At least, he hoped he was in charge of Eleanor’s interrogation. Vic was completely capable of handling himself, he was an extremely precise speaker when he wanted to be. Eleanor on the other hand….Emile had it stuck in his head that she would simply confess to everything in a moment of panic. Perhaps she would say something that would incriminate her for something totally unrelated to the incidents at hand. She had always been a nervous person, a situation like this could not have put her in a good place mentally. If Ilyas were handling her interrogation, Emile was certain he would at least be kind with his questioning. He wasn’t the type to use underhanded tactics. He sincerely hoped no one on the force would use questionable techniques when extracting information, but one could never be sure.

It didn’t help that the local news seemed to find it extremely important to list his name as one who might be associated with Marcel’s disappearance. It was perplexing. If he were being honest with himself, he hadn’t realized the Alpha had vanished until well into the morning. This was likely due to the stress of the night, possibly because he was distracted arguing with law enforcement. Another possibility being he had started pulling books on runes the moment the bodies were described, but the fact remained that the man was now gone. It bothered him less that the paper wanted to insinuate that he had anything to do with the disappearance and bothered him more that he wouldn’t get a chance to pick the goliath’s brain more. They had had occasion to have several extremely interesting conversations regarding a multitude of topics and Emile found himself deeply upset that he may never have the pleasure of Marcel's company again. There was no evidence yet to suggest the man was gone for good, he might turn up in a day or two for all Emile knew of the situation, but it was still a depressing thought.

Emile let out another long breath and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, his gaze lifting to glare daggers into his companion. “Stop pacing. You’re driving me up a wall.” Delori was a force of nature on a good day. On a bad day, he seemed to lack the ability to sit still. Logically, Emile knew it was only a matter of time before Eleanor was released and they could go home. It didn’t prevent him from worrying over the entire situation, but there was no way they could keep her here for long. He wasn’t entirely sure if Delori was aware of this fact. He wasn’t entirely sure what his brother was thinking at the moment. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t thought to bother much with conversation. If they had talked earlier, it had been in a haze and he didn’t remember much of it. Given the insane amount of caffeine currently running through his system, he doubted he would remember much of what they said now.

He needed a nap. He desperately needed to sleep. Until he was sure that Eleanor was unharmed, however, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Vic could take care of himself, he didn’t need to worry about that for now. Ely was strong, logically Emile knew she would be fine. Logically, at this very moment, everything was ok. Logically, she was completely safe. He felt the side of the Styrofoam give beneath his clenched hands and a bit of disappointing coffee spilt to the floor.

the book keeper

Emile.

• aaaaaaaaa
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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Uniko]

location

The NCP - Noxium City Precinct; Interrogation Room

interactions

Roman Duncan tyranna

'Click'

'Click'

'Click'

The sharp sounds of heels clacked against the plain tiled floors making their way to the handcuffed persons already seated before her as she entered the enclosed room. There was pause in the atmosphere, and the clicking sounds were soon replaced by that of a screeching metal chair being carefully pulled from out under the bolted down table. Prosecutor Junko Dragun sat in front of her current suspect in this tabloid murder case. Roman Duncan. The NCP's current favorite suspect as of the last 24 hours or so. And what his manner of spewing extreme expletive's that she was sure his own mother would skin him alive for saying; it was no wonder why this rowdy beta male was assigned to her.

Junko was known to be the ultimate buster of balls, to put it bluntly. Nothing slipped past or by her, every faint noise, minor change in tone, and stutters- she caught like a fly stuck in a web. Her fellow peers in this case, Ilyas Osbourne and Luka Baumann who she learned were assisting with cracking the case would not be able to match her spotless track record for cracking suspects in these sort of murder charges. While Ilyas lacked were he was deemed as too 'soft' by prosecuting standards, Luka more than made up for it with his notoriety in the precinct for being absolutely brutal. Since the untraceable mans arrival here to the NCP six years ago, the department has had to handle more law suits than ever, and she was sure it was entirely due to the detective. And thus, Junko was called in to assist with the case and questioning the suspects, the best of both worlds when it came to the balancing of the law.

For a stale moment, the rose lipped half dragon only stared at her current subject. Noting his breathing patterns-which were deep and surprisingly steady given his current situation, the very faint twitch to his left eye that signified his suppressed irritation, it was his posture that told her all she needed to know. It may appear lackadaisical to some- but her sharp eyes could detail the fine lines of veins pressed against the soft cotton button up he's had on no doubt since the night he was arrested. She noted the slight tears here and there on the sleeves of his shirt, and what appeared to be some scratch marks scatted along his collarbone from she could see from the top few open buttons. Signs that he must have been quite hard to detain once they brought him to the precinct.

Deciding to cease her silent observations, she had a job to do. And it will be done in typical Junko fashion. Crossing her slim legs covered in her signature grey slacks, the prosecutor leaned forward on the table, clasping her manicured claws beneath her chin, as she made direct eye contact with her crimson eyed charge. Noting the fire she seen hidden behind the caged gems. Perhaps this one would prove to be interesting after all. "Roman Duncan. Beta of the infamous wolf pack, the Duncan's." She paused so she could look back her file, though she wouldn't needed to refer back to it again, she already knew all there was to know about this man. "The boy turned wolf, eh?" She stated cryptically, her eyes catching his and knowing smirk graced her lips before flipping the paper folder shut and pushing it aside; no longer needing the contents written inside. "Let's skip the pleasantries." She absolutely hated small talk. "My name is Junko Dragun, I am the prosecutor assigned to this case. And tasked with questioning you."

"You were arrested for the possible connection to four humans murdered the night before. Right outside of DuPont Hall, the same place you conveniently were attending the Montarac-Osbourne charity ball. " Her tone was steady and unyielding, stone eyes never breaking from his. "Why were you outside the ball that night? At the scene of the crime-considering that everyone, including guests should have been inside at the time, it's quite odd that you were not present at the ball during the time the bodies were found." She drilled immediately, watchful eyes back to studying his natural behaviors as she awaited his response. Then her gaze travelled down to his leg that was slightly visible from her angle, and she caught sight his wrapped leg, the exact spot where she read on his file that he was shot by the guard. "Hmm, your leg. How is it? The nurses here at the precinct do an amazingly quick patch up job. Especially considering the fact you were shot with a silver bullet."

Junko Dragun

♡design by sirnateunknown, coded by uxie♡

 

[Steve Jobs]

kaya osbourne.

frustrated

osbourne manner

her family,

outfit

Between pacing around the kitchen and staring at the stove, Kaya had wasted yet another hour brooding over her brother's arrest. Cailan was no murder. He could barely bring himself to eat human flesh much less kill several people. It was nothing more than prejudice and Ilyas could only operate within the police's system.

And the worst part was that Kaya could do nothing about it.

She'd pored through her books, reached out to her acquaintances at the morgue, and even phoned some less-than-savory figures but found herself banned from knowing anything of substance. It made no sense to her that they couldn't assign Cailan a lawyer (their family certainly had one on retainer) or even sneak her a piece of the body. Given her ability, she could have easily deciphered the killer's identity, or at least get an idea of the victims' last moments. Instead, her mother called a meeting among all the leaders of the prestigious families and disallowed her from attending, presumably to prevent her from taking any reckless actions.

Intellectually, Viera's decision made sense, but viscerally, Kaya needed a distraction.

She resolved to burn through her excess energy by cooking, an activity she hadn't performed in the last two months. Typically she either left it to their chefs or ate her food raw, but in times of stress the actual act of preparing something for herself provided a bit of comfort. It was a little bit Addams Family and a little bit iZombie, but mostly Hannibal if her ingredients were anything to go by. From the vegetable drawer came celery, leeks, yellow onions, carrots, fingerling potatoes, and garlic cloves. From their pantry came the dry goods: red wine vinegar, Kosher salt, cayenne, and bay leaves. From the first rack of their (oversized) refrigerator: Dijon mustard, capers, cornichons, eggs, and mayonnaise. Anything she couldn't find around the house, she had to outsource. With Eleanor detained, she had no garden to pick herbs from so the farmer's market was the next best thing.

All that was left was the meat, the piece de resistance to stave off her hunger. Kaya pulled a half-filled bowl from the fridge and set it on the kitchen counter. She initially requested this dish to "celebrate" last night's charity ball, but given the circumstances decided that she was better suited to prepare this dish. Laying the head on a cutting board with one hand and grabbing a knife with the other, she flayed the scalp with surgical precision before discarding it in the trash. Then came the eyes, suitable to fry but unnecessary for today's meal; so too did the brow and the facial hair meet its end in the bin where it'd one day become mulch. The cheek, the ears, the tongue, and even the nose were thrown in a pot of boiling water before she replaced her skinning knife with a cleaver.

Cleaver met bone and the skull split with a resounding crack. The smell of blood and brine filled the air as she separated the brain from its housing and placed both in the water. Then went the vegetables a few sprigs of thyme and a bayleaf that drifted along the broth.

"Tete de chasseur", she murmured, leaning against the countertop.

Head of hunter.

coded by natasha.

 

[Dicentra]

The Priestess

Eleanor

Location: Noxium City Precinct

Interactions: Ilyas Horror // Mentions Emile MisaMai

The Noxium City Precinct Interrogation Room - a chamber that reeked of despair, disappointment, and deceit. There was a particular kind of stiffness in the air, a sort of staleness, that was almost unbearable to breathe.

The facility itself was as unwelcoming as the atmosphere and environment it offered. It was a plain white room with minimal fixtures, purposely dull so there were no distractions from the conversation between the investigator and the suspect. Additionally, the area was illuminated by a single fluorescent light that glared down brightly on the defendant in an effort to disorient them and provoke a confession.

The particular blaring light source heated the surface of Eleanor's hair as she silently sat in an uncomfortable chair across from Ilyas, the man whose engagement party was ruined by the horrific events that took place the other evening. Though she felt sympathy for how his reception turned out, there were more pressing matters to be discussed. Particuarly, the merciless murders that were discovered towards the end of the event.

Eleanor stared blankly at him with her expressionless face. She was exhausted and it showed. She was taken into custody a few hours after the gruesome discovery due to what the officers explained as 'odd rumors about her unusual behavior that night'. Since then, she had been sleeping, or at least attempting to, in her holding cell as she awaited her questioning.

It had been longer than a full day since she was dropped off at the police station. She wished for nothing more than a hot bath and to see her safety net, Emile. Her time in her confinement passed by sluggishly as she worried about how upset he must be that she was taken in. For certain, she knew she was innocent and that this would questioning would end quickly. She was not as certain that Emile wouldn't try to fight the officers to save her. Above all, she was concerned he had been spending the night awake as she had.

When Ilyas began his interrogation, Eleanor chewed on the inside of her cheek. In spite of her undeniable innocence, she still felt anxious about being locked up in such a notorious place. She just hoped her nervousness didn't give any indication that she was possibly guilty. He brought up the missing individuals that she had interacted during the charity ball, the pianist who was reportedly named Jessica and the lost Alpha of the Duncans Marcel. Though Eleanor never learned the identity of the musician that night, the whispers throughout the police station let her caught wind of it. Apparently, even the police department was not free of the exhilaration that gossip delivered.

"The flower.." Eleanor repeated. "A creation of mine. I hobby breeding flowers to perfect my powers. It was just a gift I prepared to deliver to all of the Noxium heads in order to relieve significant amounts of stress. Nothing more than a mix of an Echinacea and a Hawthorne." She explained with a meek smile.

"I had brought one for your mother as well, though she was too busy for me to reach her before everything happened. Nothing dangerous." She told him, putting her hands up to feign surrender. "I believe some of the officers took my remaining two florets into custody. Please, inspect them if you must. If you could take one to your mother I'd be all the more grateful. After you've confirmed they are not harmful, of course."

"Oh.. the petals are meant to be brewed, not worn, by the way." She added in once she remembered how Marcel tucked his behind his ear. "After this whole ordeal, maybe you could use a cup of the tea as well." She joked, her nervous chuckle a bit stronger than she intended.

"I'm sure you're wondering about Jessica as well.. I didn't interact with her much. I had noticed, uhm, your father-in-law dislocate her pinky and just wanted to help." Eleanor started, though she wasn't sure how to say anything without offending the patriarch. After all, whatever she said in the room could be taken as legally binding. "Not a big deal, I think. She was healed in a matter of moments and continued playing as if nothing had happened. That was the last I had seen of her, but I believe she was there the rest of the ball since the sound of the piano filled the air. In the order of events, I was brought to the station a few hours after the bodies were found and if she was missing since that night, I would've been here already."

Her eyes narrowed at him, mostly because she was trying to figure out if what she said made any sense. She was running on barely any sleep, after all. "I'd be happy to answer any more questions. But I must ask, is Emile here? If you are to keep me here longer, could someone let him know I'm alright?"

Code by Serobliss

 

[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-​

It was a perfect ending to a not so perfect evening.

Cailan leaned back against the cold and dank brickwork of the rusty jail cell and stared down at his hands, bound at the wrist by a pair of tight metal cuffs. He appeared defeated, even before the trial had began. It was almost inedible that he would find himself here and was of no surprise to Cailan that he would be the number one suspect in a murder case. However Cailan had some to Noxium with the intention of beginning a new life without judgment, but it seems as if there is no escaping his sins.

As the rusty door squeaked open, Cailan slightly lifted his head and under his hair, set eyes on a young man about the same age as him. He could instantly tell that this person was serious and he wasn't going to hold back with anything. He remained frozen in spot as he watched Luka enter the room and take his seat. Like bandits locked in a quickdraw battel, Cailan did his best to read the mans demeaner; he didn't trust him one bit and was unable to get any information about the man from his appearance.

The opening introduction did not go down well with Cailan; feeling like the black sheep of the family and having someone else call him out for it was something, it struck a nerve. Despite this, Cailan kept his mouth closed, knowing that no reaction was better than a bad one. That being said, his eyes said it all; he was frustrated. He understood that in this situation, Luka was the predator with all of the control, and he was the prey. He didn't like it, the feeling of being trapped made him anxious and he struggled with his inner self.

"If you were that good of a detective, you wouldn't need to question me." Cailan responded and narrowed his eyes back at Luka. Understanding in the situation that he was at a loss still didn't deter him from at least getting in one jab back in retaliation. It wasn't a smart move, but in that moment he felt it would aid in his attempts to protect himself mentally and emotionally. The internal battle was building on him. Everyone thought he was a killer and they had good reason to believe so.

"I may not be of blood to the Ousborne's, but they are family, they believed in me while the world was against me!" Cailan grit his teeth and clenched his hands. His gaze falling back towards the floor. "I didn't kill those people!" He spoke bluntly.

Cailan was not expecting an easy, nor quick, escape from the police department. He knew already that what he was almost always ended in disaster. No-one trusted a Ghoul and even more so, no-one trusted a Wendigo. Noxium has so far been the first place where he had found some sort of sanctuary of acceptance, even if he was unable to accept himself, but it was never going to a paradise of no judgement. But it was all there was.

Mentions:
Luka Bazin - deliriousmishaps

Location:
Noxium Police Department

Notes:
None.​

 

[Kovacs]

the woodbanes

Oda Obinata

theme

tags

Delori Sallow

-ferret-

Emile Therough

MisaMai

Eleanor Woodbane

Dicentra

Vanya Montarac

Horror

Veronika Montarac

Wxnter

Lysander Osbourne

Vivi

Viera Osbourne

Uniko

A THOUSAND THREADS

SCENE ONE

[AT RISE, illuminated by tendrils of daylight filtered through the Sanctum's windows, four of the Five sat ACTIVE, UNATTACHED and at work. OAKBLUE mended tapestry ripped by stray felines. RED CRANE polished the gosho heads. RIVER FERN dusted puppet theater beams. WATER LILY sorted through the latest bout of scripts and doll design blueprints.]
[Curtains rustled. CHERRY BLOSSOM appears and enters.]

CHERRY. Oh, sisters. Have you heard the terrible news?
CRANE. [In a huff] Cherry! Must you find distracting gossip on chore day?
BLUE. [In a whisper] Did Master encounter misfortune at the ball? Oh, wretched, wretched Delori...
LILY. [With curiousity] You say terrible... yet your tone is giddy, Cherry. Where is Master now?
FERN. [Soothingly] Let us hear her speak, sisters.

CHERRY. [Excitable] Murder, girls! Cold-blooded murder, right under the noses and champagne glasses of all the guests there that night. Four victims, each one bloodier and more cut up than the last. The town has talked of nothing since. Why, I heard one even had a missing jaw, and another whose intestines spilled out like vines...
CRANE. [matronly] That's quite enough, Cherry. We have some newly-minted puppets about. Hearing of such vile things will affect their future performances.
LILY. What a mystery... this is perfect fodder for new plays.
CRANE. What mystery? It could have simply been a night of feeding for the hosts.
BLUE. Or perhaps... perhaps it was all a trap. Master's affections for the mother of all ghouls discovered... Lysander Osbourne in league with that despot Montarac and his fishwife... their deaths was a message, an omen...
FERN. [Dreamily] Oh, but the lady Viera is such a sweet soul. She would have surely warned Master...
BLUE. [Continuing bitterly, in a feverish murmur] Wretched, wretched Delori. He is to blame; he plots against us! Were it not for the soft spot Master has for that sorry excuse for a spellcaster...

CHERRY. ...
LILY. Silent and with a gleam in her eye. What else are you not telling us, sister?
CRANE. Ah, wood polish. She is simply gloating.
BLUE. [With simmering wrath] The authorities must have suspects in custody already. Delori must be one of them...
CHERRY. [Head shaking] Delori is well and free as a bird, Blue. It is Fern's favorite that they've caged overnight.
FERN. [Fitful gasp] Oh my dear Eleanor, in a cell?! She would not even dare hurt a gnat resting on a flower patch in her garden.
CHERRY. They have her in interrogation. I hear she faces that boy scout sleuth, Viera's youngest. Master is in the Manor now; first to leave the ball and now, the last to leave to wait on her. We will be asleep. [To Fern] But you...
FERN. Yes, I feel it. Master wants me awake.

[LIGHTS DIM AND END OF SCENE 1]

SCENE TWO

Oda Obinata never drove. At one time, simply as a product of fascination for the great metal beasts, he may have learned how. But he no longer wandered far enough to justify the use. Then, there were the migraines. For so long, they'd been unbearable, finding no relief in human remedy. Until one day a young witch barely a day fresh in her new home offered him a herbal concoction. What she'd called it, he never could remember. The taste was abhorrent, but from that day on, the pain no longer seemed to play a recurring role.

FERN. [From her place on his lap, floating up gently over his shoulder] Oh, Master. Your tears...

Oda blinked. But it could not be helped; for some time, as fat as cherubs, they dribbled down from a swath of milky white where eyes once were. The taxi driver had been trying not to stare. The giant of a dollmaker in his pea of a car was an eerie statue, save for the slight downward curve along his broad brow and chin. Thinking better than to break the vigil of a witch man, the driver opened his mouth and closed it. He glanced in the mirror again and found a drop of bravery. "Tissue, Mr. Woodbane?"

There was no answer. The doll floating over his shoulder turned in a slow, neat circle and stared a moment, then shook its head. No movement came from its wooden jaw, but nonetheless a soft voice, strange in its mix of masculine and feminine, pealed out. Silk attire brushed against her maker's wetted cheek. Eyes on the road, driver.

Fortunately the road was ending soon; within minutes, it rolled to a stop in front of what a certain melodramatic doll liked to think was Noxium's oft-most corruptible establishment. Like a great, lumbering bear in search of honey, Oda entered the hive that was the police station, taking care to avoid the swarm of officer bees. Adorned in traditional Japanese cloth and sandals masking his approach behind them, the dollmaker swept both his coven members up in a tight embrace, arms coiled around their heads like a silent wood vice. Tears still streaming down his face, he whispered, "Brothers! Forgive my lateness."

With a permissive nod from her maker, Fern meanwhile, hovered in front of the two younger witch men, holding the reason why their elder coven member had taken so long to arrive. The bag lay wide for them to peer inside, revealing an assorted variety of Eleanor's favorite kind of cookies.

FERN. Sugar or red velvet, gentlemen?

​

DIRECTORY

the five

CHERRY BLOSSOM
The most sociable, silver-tongued and cheeky of them all, this one is almost always known in English as Cherry, though she will shut her mouth when her full stage name is said in Japanese. She is most active and involved when Oda indulges his love for hosting, story-telling and for her own personal pleasure, spreading gossip.

WATER LILY
Shortened to Lily, this one has the sharpest, most creative eye out of her sisters, with a penchant to be overly curious but always the first to drum up new ideas. Though they are all involved in some way when Oda is knee-deep in his craft, she is by far the most active throughout the process.

OAKBLUE
Named for the butterflies sewn into her accessory embroidery hoop, Blue and her nerves are just as fickle and flighty. With a penchant for picking enemies among the drabble, she is the one who casts doubts and whispers oil into the fires of Oda's bitterness and fury.

RED CRANE
With her wooden nose to the grindstone, the ever dutiful Crane is often the voice of steady reason and sense against her sisters and the fervent, fitful will of her puppetmaster. Much like the bird, this one has a penchant for song, doing so in Oda's plays and is most active during coven council meetings.

RIVER FERN
Sweet in nature and easily bent towards whichever way the wind blows, Fern is the soother of tempers and the calm before the storms of Oda's moods. This one encourages the picking of favorites and dotes on them, whispering honey into her puppetmaster's ear on those she favors.

CODE BY SEROBLISS / VALOROUS ORDER

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Junko

mentions:

Marcel and Onyx

location:

Noxium City Precinct: Interrogation Room

tags:

Uniko

Roman wasn’t unacquainted with a jail cell, which honestly wasn’t something worth bragging about, but hey, we must be proud of something right? This time wasn’t like the others, no because this wasn’t an arrest for a petty bar fight that Onyx had instigated or an arrest for aggravated reckless driving, he had been accused of murder, of harming an innocent person.

F U C K T H A T .

There was an extensive list of words that could be used to describe the young man (simpleminded, slutty, and spunky just to name a few); murderer was not on that list.

The clacking of heels entered one ear and out the other, he was aware of her arrival before she announced herself. While Roman didn’t know Ms. Dragun on a personal level, her name wasn’t unfamiliar, this was his second home after all. “First off it’s just Roman, I’m not a Duncan, if you were actually good at your job....” his voice began to trail, and he bobbed his head aggressively, “You’d know that.”

Roman offered the woman a smug smile as she made a not-so-subtle jab. Cooperation was off the table (was it ever truly on the table?). “And I know who you are, but it looks like everyone just hyped you up ‘cause you got a pretty face and a nice rack.” The brazen Beta rested his arms on the cool metal table and leaned forward, “Your detective skills suck ass and when you realize you’ve arrested the wrong guy, I expect you to be on your knees when you apologize to me.” ruby eyes scanned the woman in a predatory manner.

“Preferably with your mouth open wide.” Roman’s full lips curled into a smirk as he situated himself in a more relaxed position.

“I’m not answering questions from a bitch whose hair is aging faster than she is.” his arms folded over each other in a child-like demeanor. He shouldn’t be here, this wasn’t fair. Why weren’t they on the hunt for the actual murderer or murderers? Fucking pigs always arrested the wrong people, a waste of taxpayers' dollars that’s what the Noxium Police Department was.

Why hadn’t Marcel bailed him out, or at least attempted to make contact? This was so unlike him. The Duncan Alpha was stoic, but he cared for his pack, a fact known by all. Marcel wouldn’t just leave him to rot in a cell, he wouldn’t allow him to be questioned for a crime he clearly didn’t commit. So where was he? Roman didn’t notice, but his demeanor was slowly shifting, he felt like a child that had been abandoned by its parents.

“Don’t I get a lawyer or a call or some shit?” He asked, ignoring her question about his whereabouts that night. “My leg will be just fine, can’t say the same for the officer that fired at me though, that bitch is done for, ain’t no way Marcel is gonna tolerate some bitch ass cop firing shots at his people.”

Roman

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Zuriel and Alexei

mentions:

Ilyas, Veronika, Victor, Zuriel, Cailan, Alexei, Viera

location:

Montarac Manor

tags:

Israel and AreSneksSly

Viviana didn’t lose a wink of sleep following the night of Victor’s arrest, the servants whispered through the halls that she had been in the best of moods. They would’ve liked to assume it was because of the public announcement of her engagement to Ilyas Osbourne, but they knew damn well it was because her brother left in handcuffs that dreadful night. Viviana viewed it as the perfect engagement gift, no one could top that, no one could take that away from her, she would relive that moment until her dying breath.

The manor was quiet, aside from servant gossip, and Viviana hated quiet. Her parents were gone, attending some meeting strung together by her soon to be mother-in-law, they didn’t give her many details on the matter, but it was obvious what it was about. The murders, which in her opinion wasn’t a big deal, people died every day. Someone could be dying right now for heaven's sake. The only reason Lady Osbourne was so heavily involved is because one of her own was accused, and that old hag couldn’t afford to have her name tarnished by some starved boy.

If the charity event was orchestrated solely by her family this wouldn’t have happened, leave it to a barren ghoul to fuck up as majorly as she did. To think you’re marrying into this family. If it weren’t for Ilyas being tolerable, Viv would’ve done everything in her power to ruin their arrangement. Also, the challenge of turning Viera’s first born against her was an opportunity she couldn’t pass on. This would unfortunately have to wait, she had other matters to attend to, but it would certainly be a priority after today.

As she stood at the top of the staircase she peered down to the first floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of her younger brothers trekking by. “Zuriel, Alexei....” Viv called out as she descended the stairs. “I am going to the police station, Victor will likely be released soon, they don’t have enough evidence to keep him any longer.” manicured fingers raked through her hair as she waited for some sort of response. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you two.” she added, her voice echoing through the halls.

The loving and concerned sister was nothing more than a mask she had put on for her brothers, in truth she wanted to bring Victor back home because she knew that’s what her parents would have wanted. She briefly daydreamed what they would do to him once they were no longer in the public eye.

Viviana

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Horror]

Ilyas Osbourne

mood.

Suspicious

[/comment]

location.

Interrogation Room

tags.

Dicentra

-->

-->

-->

While sable shadows played around the corners of the dimly lit room, Ilyas stood like an unwavering sentinel. His face was a canvas of emotion that painted an intricate story of unspoken words. The corners of his jaw tensed with the weight of her retelling, as his furrowed brow formed a storm of thought. His lips, a tightly drawn line, revealed no hint of his intentions.

The subtle tilt of his head betrayed the merest hint of intrigue as he dissected her next words. As he thought, the flowers were likely not a cause for alarm. When dealing with the supernatural, and witches in particular, it paid to be cautious. There was a breadth of knowledge that was unknown to him, a labyrinthine collection that could interfere with every case. At times, Emile’s knowledge was useful for Ilyas in dispelling the unknown—the situation here was delicate and Emile’s connection with Eleanor impeded him from making use of his library.

The storm of thought on Ilyas’ brow abated, yielding to a serene, yet tentative smile. “Of course. After this is all over, I’d be happy to give her one on your behalf.” A lie—it was one that came easy. Those flowers were fated to decorate the bottom of a trash can. Heedless of where those petals traveled, his paranoia would not permit him to give one to his mother. “You might be right. Some tea would be delightful.”

Ilyas struggled to remain stoic when news of Vanya’s antics met his ear. Yet, with Herculean effort, he managed to retain his senses, a facade that has long served as his bulwark in the chaotic undercurrent of this profession. With a subtle inclination of his head, he offered a nod; it was a tacit acknowledgment of the risk she took upon herself by speaking this truth. It was a fleeting yet potent moment in the delicate ballet of suspicion and exoneration—a signal of respect. Vanya held … a colored history in regard to his interactions with low-wage workers, a history that has largely gone unpunished. “Don’t worry about Emile. I’ve already taken measures to ensure that he knows you’re safe.” The lie flew from his lips with effortless grace. The corners of his mouth curled into a reassuring smile and he gave her a final nod of acknowledgment.

For a fleeting while, the world held its breath. The gears of his analytical mind turned, grinding away at the granules of truth in her tale. Then, like the soft tolling of a distant bell, his voice broke the silence, laden with concern and gravitas. "There is something troubling about your encounter with Jessica," he confided. His obsidian eyes, once more, bore into the suspect's sky-blue, seeking to unravel the tangled skein of their shared narrative. “We found this video, posted on the internet after the ball.”

His hands rose from the edges of the table, bringing his phone to rest at its surface. Adept hands searched through files to stop at a video that appeared to begin at the ball. He now merely needed to press play. The screen flickers to life with a captivating, if not disconcerting, image. Centered in the frame, a zoom-in of Marcel’s backside was displayed in all of its unbridled glory. Heavy breathing accompanied the visual feast, a haunting symphony of desire, that served to amplify the visceral nature of the scene. “… I apologize for the start. It was posted by a strange … Marcel fan account. We don’t have any clearer pieces of footage for what you’ve described.”

In the background, partially obscured by noise, were the silhouettes of Eleanor and Jessica. The scene seems to play out as described, her own retelling provided enough context for Ilyas to understand what occurred, yet there was another detail that left the mind wandering. Amidst the gentle ministrations of Eleanor’s healing touch, a chilling transformation seemed to seize Jessica as Eleanor departed. Her eyes widened in abject terror and her gaze seemed to haze over. Something or someone frightened her to her core, her face twisting into a rictus that could only convey terror.

The video pauses, with the young detective returning his gaze to his suspect. His voice was a low rumble that belied his confusion, “Do you know what made Jessica so scared at that moment?” He initially suspected that it might have been something that Eleanor said, or perhaps a symptom of whatever spell was weaved by her. But now, he could only guess: was it something that she saw? Was she simply worried about what Vanya would do if Eleanor’s antics were discovered? Or perhaps an unintended side effect of Eleanor’s spell. His mind was a gale of questions, ones he doubted Eleanor could answer.

-->

 

[Steve Jobs]

estefani navarro-duncan.

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  Bell MisaMai
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

She was going to kill Em as soon as she found him. Ever since the charity event she blew off, she'd been trying to contact Marcel nonstop, only to be met with silence. As much as he hated social media, it wasn't like him to ghost her (much less the rest of the pack). Aside from the twelve text messages, ten phone calls, and five voice mails, she went to the trouble of banging on his door until the neighbors nearly called the police. He'd taken precautions to ensure she couldn't sneak through any holes in the wall which meant that outside of punching a hole through his window, she had no recourse.

Because of this, she'd taken to driving her Camaro (now that it was back from the auto shop) around the town in hopes of catching a strand of ashen white among the other werewolves in Noxium. She knew he'd be able to hear her, the roar of her engine was unmistakable and the sound of her heartbeat, distinct in its discontent. Even if it were the slightest bit possible that he were the murderer, Marcel wouldn't have let Roman take the fall.

And he wouldn't die, not even to an ambush.

“And if you did, then you're more PATHETIC than I gave you credit for,”

she yelled out the window.

...

Damn she really thought he was going to perk up to that one.

Estefani shot a text to her now-favorite werewolf in Noxium before changing to the next exit and heading to Ricci's Pizzeria.

Gonna be over in five, got time to defrost a meat lover's for me?

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[AreSneksSly]

#

Alexei

"Primed for violence"

location

The Montarac Manor

mentions

Viv, Vic

interactions

Viviana

tags

tyranna

At the sound of his sister’s voice echoing through the hallways, Alexei’s gaze shot up from his feet.

In rather unorthodox dress for just walking around the house, Alexei had on a dark, heavy coat, underneath it being a nondescript white button-up and plain black slacks. A maroon scarf wrapped around his neck, and hanging from his ear was a white earphone bud. Its partner hung limp at his side.

Last night was horrible for a variety of reasons. Lexi hadn’t gotten to drink as much as he’d wanted to, he’d had to endure waiting around a ballroom the whole night, and he hadn’t even bagged a lay! Also, there was something about a murder, which’d really bogged down the aura of the room.

Shit sucked, to put it in much less eloquent terms.

And his brother…

His stupid, stupid fucking brother who’d disappeared on them eight years ago, without a word since. Even his arrival had been silent. He’d just snuck into the big gala, wearing a dumb disguise that no one with half a brain cell would have fallen for, and– and—

Well, thoughts of violence could wait until evening. Until Victor was actually home.

It’d been a long time since Alexei’d gotten to punch his fourth favorite sibling; his knuckles might’ve gotten out of practice.

Originally, the youngest Montarac had planned on fucking around the town for a bit to kill the time. Maybe even take one of the cars for a joyride. But his sister’s voice, and her stated plans, had piqued his interest. He’d thought that he would’ve had to wait for one of the servants to pick Victor up and then he’d get to cave his face in, but if he hitched a ride with Viviana, then his bloody gratification could come sooner than expected.

“Viv, wait up!” The young man ran the approximate direction of her voice until he caught sight of the unmistakable silver sheen of her hair. Which was a while later. Their house was way too big. “Let me—” Alexei paused, hunching over to gulp in some much needed air. “Lemme come too. S’not fair if you get first crack at him.”

© weldherwings.

 

[-ferret-]

delori

After Eleanor was arrested, it felt like things had truly gone awry. And despite the fact that Delori usually thrived among chaos, this time they felt a coldness spread from their stomach to the rest of their body. Del had driven home with Emile and upon arriving home, had immediately thrown a fit in his room. Now still, things were upturned and strewn about, left for when he was more stable and Eleanor was home. For once in his life, Delori Sallow was as unpresentable as possible and it was doing terrible things to his already horrid mood. His hair was falling out of a haphazard bun and his socks weren't even the same type of sock much less style or color. On of his beat up sneakers was untied and he was wearing sweatpants of all things. Cute sweatpants, but still. The cropped sweater he was wearing had "Witch Bitch" emblazoned in pink cursive on the front. He'd almost tore out the eyes of the beat-cop that had laughed at it. It was disastrous, really. They were pacing a hole in the precinct floor and even Emile's demand to stop only agitated him more.



"We can't leave her in there! They'll rip her apart!" Del hissed back, keeping their voice low but urgent.



It wasn't long before Oda swept him and Emile up into a hug, opening a duffle of cookies with Fern. Del couldn't stomach even water with Eleanor being interrogated for something she absolutely did not do. Del vaguely remembered Emile arguing with some detectives (cops?) about that.



"Thanks Oda, I'll pass though," Del patted Oda's arm and unconsciously pulled out the pack of tissues they always keep on them and handed them to their coven-mate. "Thankyou too, Fern."

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

 

[Israel]

Zuriel Montarac

Location: The Montarac Estate | Interactions: Viviana Montarac ( tyranna ) and Alexei Montarac ( AreSneksSly )
| Mentions: Victor Montarac ( smolfluffball ) | Outfit: Outfit #1
“Last night’s murders have left the Noxium Police Force baffled…”
“Current suspects include the previously missing Montarac son, Victor Montarac…”
“Any information regarding the murders should be directly reported to Noxium Police Department.”
These were just some of the statements on the local news that were blaring across the television screen in Zuriel’s lab. The middle Montarac son had buried himself in his lab as soon as he was released from police questioning. However, it seemed he would not be given a chance to escape temporarily from the situation. Along with the televised news, the dark-haired vampire had a copy of the latest The Noxium Tribune. "Hm..." The vampire hummed and then threw the paper haphazardly onto one of his lab tables after he had skimmed the paper. He then turned back to look at his current project: several beakers filled with varying liquids. With safety goggles and a lab coat (which currently had a few splatters of blood on them), he looked exactly like a mad scientist.

The night had been a lot more chaotic than Zuriel’s predictions. He had expected a night of maybe a few scuffles between the families and clans. However, he would have never expected the return of his long lost brother or the murders that occurred during the night. In which his family had been questioned in regards to both, and that didn’t necessarily surprise Zuriel in the least. He knew that a lot of the local residents viewed his family as some sort of ruthless villains. However, the only one that seemed to be taken in was Victor.

Unfortunately for Zuriel, and perhaps fortunate for Victor, he did not get to interact with his older brother. The shock of his appearance had kept the middle Montarac son surprisingly quiet. Many thoughts went through his head at the reveal of his brother, most of which were violent. However, he was kept separate from his older brother by the police. Perhaps it was the shock that kept him from killing both the police and his brother.

When his family were done being questioned and were allowed to return to their estate, Zuriel had buried himself in his lab work. This was a far better distraction than contemplating the murder of his older brother. Zuriel was only brought out of his stupor when he heard the voice of his sister, who was announcing to both the younger Montara siblings her departure and that she would return with Victor. The blue-eyed vampire shook his head slightly. He wondered how many hours it had been since he buried himself in his laboratory. The young-looking vampire let out a small sigh and decided he would at least grace his sister with a proper good-bye. The dark-haired man knew that his sister would not wait around long for either Lexi or himself. With his supernatural speed, he made it to his sister only a few moments after Lexi.

“Yeah, if you’re going to kill him at least let us be witnesses… and get a few breaking of bones ourselves.” The middle Montarac son threw an arm around Lexi’s shoulders and leaned onto his younger brother for support. He smirked down at the other dark-haired man, a mixture of mirth and playfulness shone in his cat-like eyes. He then turned his gaze to his older sister and shot her a, surprisingly, serious look. “Unless you would prefer to talk privately with him? Just don’t kill him on the way back to the estate.” Zuriel gave the pale-haired woman a small smirk.

 

[MisaMai]

Emile had been about to offer some sort of word of comfort to Delori, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to them when they were in this state. Emile couldn’t recall a time when his brother had seemed less put together than he did now. Delori was usually the center of their own circle of gravity, the entire populace of a room seeming almost physically drawn in by their presence. Emile had been given the great pleasure of watching Delori grow into a force to be reckoned with. Although they often played at having little power, they were able to command a room by simply entering it. He had seen his brother become the focus of stares both envious and covetous and Emile couldn’t even begin to describe the amount of pride he felt at how much his brother had grown over the years. The fact that they hadn’t even bothered to make sure their socks matched… It was then that Oda came into the station.

It was something of a relief to see the massive man, even if his presence sent a sharp reminder of Emile’s own diminutive height. Truth be told, in any other town Emile would stand at just below average. It simply seemed that the ‘average man’ measured up a lot taller in Noxium than in other places. It must be something in the water. Perhaps, Emile mused privately, if he switched out wine for water he would grow taller. If only it were that simple.

Before Emile could formulate a proper greeting (his mind seemed to be moving slower and slower the longer he remained awake) Oda had pulled himself and Delori into a hug. If he had been a bit more prepared, he might have been able to act like a normal human being as opposed to an imitation of a statue at the action. Given a collected mindset, or an appropriate amount of libation, physical contact of any kind could be considered tolerable in Emile’s world view. If he was feeling a particularly strong emotion, such as shock and relief over seeing a friend for the first time in an absurdly long time, he might even initiate physical contact himself. It was easier exchanging any sort of touch with his chosen family than it was with anyone else, and he found himself comfortable enough with those closest to him to even have casual contact from time to time, but it could still have the effect of leaving him a bit rattled if anyone touched him unawares. The memory of Viviana’s cold fingers against his cheek still left a feeling like an oil-slick deep in his chest, the remembrance of her easy hypnotism of an entire room leaving a feeling only slightly sicker. The whole encounter had forced him to recategorize the Montarac daughter from ‘potential threat’ to ‘very real threat’ in his mind, and he had made a short list of books to pull out to determine a way to prevent hypnotism in the future, if such a thing were possible.

Emile looked blankly down at the bag for a moment as the hug ended, his mind and body taking a moment to refocus into the moment. Cookies. It seemed the tallest of the Woodbanes had graced them with a bag full of cookies. This, it seemed, was enough to put a small smile on Emile’s face. The last thing he wanted to do at this moment was eat a cookie, but he was also loath to disappoint his perpetually tearful friend. Leave it to Oda to think of something as simple and comforting as a cookie. Emile reached into the bag and grabbed the first thing his fingers came into contact with; a sugar cookie. “Thank you, Fern.” He nodded towards the doll, then straightened and looked at Oda. “You didn’t have to come, Oda.” He didn’t mean it unkindly. It simply struck him that Oda would have a significantly better time remaining at home in his sanctum than he would being stuck here in a waiting room for an indeterminate amount of time. Eleanor was locked up, Delori’s socks didn’t match, and Oda was willing to stay with them in a waiting room….it was clearly a very bad day.

At that moment a rather unfortunate officer decided to pass the group. Even more unfortunate for the officer, he was one that Emile recognized. And, most unfortunately of all, he smelled like he had just come back in from a smoke break. Emile turned towards the man with a small smile and handed him the now decimated Styrofoam cup. The man looked between Emile and the cup uncertainly for a moment before taking the dripping container and turning towards the nearest trashcan. “And I would like a cigarette as well, if it isn’t too much trouble.” Emile said before the man had time to walk away. After another uncertain moment, he pulled a half full box out of his pocket. Instead of waiting for him to extract a single cigarette from the slightly dented box, Emile simply took the whole thing and pulled one out himself, depositing the rest of the pack into his back pocket. It wasn’t his usual brand, but he wasn’t one to be picky in trying times. Without a moment’s hesitation, Emile snapped his fingers and lit the end with a small flame that appeared at the tip of his thumb.

The officer looked at him with an expression halfway between shock and offence. “You know you can’t smoke in here.” He said, the statement coming out with a hint of incredulity.

“I also know you’ve been cheating on your wife for 5 months, Andrew.” Emile said conversationally, taking it as a small victory when the color drained slightly from the man’s face. “What I don’t know is if the affair started before or after you found out she was pregnant. Congratulations, by the way.” The man opened his mouth once, shut it, and turned away without another word, hurrying back to whatever job it was he was meant to be doing. “Give Michelle my best.” Emile called after him before taking a long drag off the cigarette. The gossip one could collect in a coffee shop was truly amazing. Who didn’t love a bit of blackmail from time to time?

“I’ll quit again next week…” He said to no one in particular as he took another long drag, willing the smoke to clear some of the agitation from him mind. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t Eleanor been released yet? How long did an interrogation usually last? Had she actually confessed to something? Were they shipping her off to prison as they sat out here doing nothing? For that matter, the Beta of the Duncan’s couldn’t possibly have anything to do with anything, could he? Emile wasn’t entirely sure who else had been taken in for questioning. He knew there had been a fourth person, he simply hadn’t been paying much attention, but he got the vague impression that they were someone important as well. And would Victor be unfairly imprisoned as well due to a terrible coincidence of timing? Either everyone would be let go today or everyone would be submitted to the death penalty…. This was not a productive train of thought.

Emile absently took a bite of the cookie and immediately regretted it, the sweetness mixing horribly with the bitter smoke in his mouth, but he swallowed anyway. A cookie wasn’t generally considered a source of nutrition, but anything in his stomach was probably better than nothing at all. Between the hunger, extreme amount of caffeine, and, now, nicotine, he was becoming a bit lightheaded. Perhaps the cookie would do him well. Maybe the combination of elements would be enough to keep him awake long enough to drive all of them home. All of them. Eleanor would be released soon….he was sure of it….mostly.

the book keeper

Emile.

• aaaaaaaaa
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♡coded by uxie♡