Fantasy The Last Judgement

[GuavaJuiceXI]

Luci

"Ah..Yeah, I suppose we do need water..." Luci agrees. "The sooner the better at that." Luci adds. Luci turns to look at Rhys. "I know you need all the help you can get, But we need some strength as well...I doubt I could protect all of them..." Luci exclaims, clutching his rosery in his right hand. Luci glances at the newcomers. A man with a crowbar, One with a machete, and a witch doctor? Or so Luci believed he was. Luci frowned upon spotting the doctor. Soon regretting this action. The church he grew up in taught him to condemn things that have a connection with the devil, such as witch's and their dark arts. Even so, Luci never held any ill will towards these individuals. Why was he scowling at this disgust-MAN. This man...Luci clutch's his head, a drop of sweat forms on his brow. What was happening to him? Luci looks back up to Rhys. "N-nevermind...Maybe one of the people coming along can fight...sorry for being selfish...haha..." Luci blurts out, while scratching his head.

 

[Rui]

Stella:

The smell of blood overtook her senses, yet it was unpleasurable; unusually.
Her eyes slowly moved over to the “revenant” as they’d called them, head lolling idly to the side.

She seemed at ease, perhaps too much so, as she calmly approached it, the scent of blood becoming more and more pungent with each dainty step.

An exit sign, still lit in an ominous red glow, flickered faintly overhead, before darkening completely. She approached and observed the creature. A faint rumble from the depths of the shadows piqued her interest.

As her mismatched gaze lifted, it was met by another set of eyes; bloodshot, angry, and even to the witch:

Terrifying.

The pale girl turned, her eyes seeking out Rhys and his gun once more.
The eyes behind her had company, more pairs opened, hot red irises glowing in the inky black.

“Run, Rhys.”
Her tone was soft and even, as if telling him the weather.
Her tone, and expression, quickly shifted, though, as her eyes addressed the others.
“RUN!”

The chorus of growls and snarls that emerged from behind her then was deafening. The backs of the survivors as they ran grew smaller and smaller in the distance as Stella turned to meet the onslaught. ​

 

[Lekiel]

Reverie Lowiezka

Location: Newark South Wing Terminal| Interacting with: Three Hooligans| Mentions: Random Airport Props

❖ ❖​

The 'One With Big Teeth' let out a disgustingly wet snarl as it stalked forward, while 'One Arm' and 'Noseless' hung back. Which was rather interesting, all things considered, she'd never thought they would be capable of some sort of hierarchical order. But here they were, with the other two letting the biggest of them have first dibs. Bloodshot and yellowed pupils eyed the witch like she was some sort of delicious morsel, a manic hunger in its eyes. Had they been in an entirely different context, she might've been flattered really; and it was totally nothing to do with how 'One With Big Teeth' would've looked quite the rugged hairy chested stud, minus all the special effects makeup. Not that she would've been attracted mind you, far from it. But she can certainly appreciate a good looking bloke (or gal) objectively like any other could. Hazel eyes glanced surreptitiously at her available options to skip being on the lunch menu.

They were in a high ceiling atrium of sorts, to her left was the half boarded-up south wing exit to the outside lobby where she had come from, she had a wall to her back, with toilets on either side of the vending machine, a little concrete island of dead plants and a train row of airport trolleys separated her from the revenants and behind them, a single escalator led up to the mezzanine floor. Reverie glanced purposefully at the southern exit, noting with grim satisfaction as 'One With Big Teeth' mimicked her action. Reverie cautiously took a step to the left, nonchalantly loosening her taut legs as she did so in preparation for a great marathon (rule #1: You may be a great runner, but Cramps is the one buddy you don't want coming along if you still haven't had your fill of dark chocolate in this life). Reverie could hear her pulse in her ears, as she filled her lungs with deeper and deeper breaths. (rule #2: Always be on the alert for any oppor-) A piercing scream echoed off the dilapidated hallways causing all three Revenants to snap their gaze upwards in reflex. Reverie took off at a run to her right. Almost instantly they were on to her, snapping their bloodied maws stretching their desiccated arms as if they were trying to reel in their prey. The brunette sprinted for all that she was worth. The first part was the hardest. She had to get round the trolley train and pass them if she were to have any chance of making it to the escalator. The immediately apparent option was to run back to where she had come from, but she didn't want to risk getting caught trying to squeeze through the half boarded doors. No, she had to try to loose them first, assuming she didn't run into any others in the first place.

Reverie reached the end of the trolley line just ahead of 'Noseless' who seemed the fastest of the three. The woman cut across the revenant, scant feet away as she grabbed at the handlebars of the last trolley, depressing the handlebars to unlock the brakes and pulling it in her wake. 'Noseless' lunged to clamber over the trolley to get to her but she immediately let go. The cart's brakes locked and the revenant slammed facefirst into trolley advertising with a sickening crunch. "Bet you wished you bought travel insurance-!" Reverie's laugh was cut short when she was suddenly tackled from the side. It was 'One Arm'. It had barely managed to trip up her legs, causing her to fall forwards. A startled cry escaped her lips as her knees banged painfully on the cracked and dusty marble flooring. Reverie realized too late that the damned thing was intelligent enough to deduce her escape path, cutting diagonally across towards her instead of trying to match her run. But it was not the first time she was in such a situation. She knew she couldn't stay still and hope to out muscle the revenant. Even if it had only one arm, it's insatiable hunger for mortal flesh gave it an unearthly strength that was in no way belied by the stretched and dried up muscle tissues barely clinging to its bones; plus it had two other buddies.

Gritting her teeth against the flaring pain, Reverie scrambled forwards on all fours, barely allowing herself a moment to pause despite falling. 'One Arm' lunged for her again, closing his cold leathery fingers against the ankle of her jeans. The woman let out an annoyed cry, frantically kicking her legs before the revenant could take a bite until she connected a solid thwack to the creature's dome. It all happened in a few seconds, and by the time she was up on her feet and running 'One With Big Teeth' was almost upon her. Twisting out of the huge revenant's attempted grab, she made a beeline towards the escalator reaching into her backpack's pockets as she ran. Her lungs were near bursting by the time her fingers closed on the hardened rubber grips of the escalator railing, but she dared not stop. She raced up the stationary steps, pulling on the rubber so that she could take two at a time. Finally reaching the mezzanine floor, she turned around just as 'One With Big Teeth' took his first step. Still digging into her bag, her fingers grasped at a small package wrapped in crinkled paper. Snatching the object out, she quickly unwrapped the package, revealing three small amber bottles filled with murky liquid. Cocking her arm, she tossed them downstairs.

'One With Big Teeth' barely flinched as glass shattered at his feet, but his next step was his last. His foot landed on the melted remains* of a metal step sinking through the floor as he plummeted into the escalator's machinations below. There was a hair-raising crunch as the revenant smacked its head against the jagged remains of metal. Reverie didn't wait to see if the obstacle succeeded in holding off the other two.

Turning away to survey the next floor she hurried over to a door on the left, with any luck, it might have a window opening to the outside. With the growls and snarls from below egging her on, she tried the knob. The door slid open without so much as a creak. Boxes and cartons of stuff littered the mediocre space, and on the other side, a boarded window. Satisfied at the discovery, the brunette darted in and shut the door. Grabbing whatever she could find, tables, boxes, shelves, she shoved them up against the door. Only when she had put layers upon layers of barricade between her and any potential threat did she finally allow herself a sigh of relief. Turning to rest her back against the boards, she slowly slid to the ground letting out a long drawn out breath. Extricating her revolver from her belt, she placed it by her side as she took a moment to shut her eyes and slow her pounding heart.

*Would not have any effect on organic flesh*

code by Ri.a

 

[Artificial Angel]

Terra

As the white snowflakes fell to the ground, a man that wears an outlandish outfit with a red sword in its runic sheath creates a snowman. As Terra began creating his snowman, he began to think about some things he had done.

Terra never really was attached to anyone or anything that did not care for him. He was just a nomad of the apocalypse, drifting from one place to another, trying to survive the hell that was unleashed 2 years ago. He would usually join groups of survivors and try to contribute to the group in combat and healing but they would turn to demons or get slaughtered by demons. While Terra was exploring the land of nothing but corpses and debris during winter in the past, he found a sword, lying on the ground near a sling bag with some bottled water, canned ready-to-eat food, a blue scarf, and a pair of winter gloves. The sword was as red as a rose and it had a diamond in the middle of it. He felt a small aura emanating from the sword but the aura was quite something he never felt before, it was neither angelic nor demonic. The sheath of the sword was quite runic and hard to decipher. As Terra unsheathed the sword, he felt some kind of power entering his body but he became unconscious. After he woke up from his slumber, he noticed a rose mark in the right side of his neck. But for now, he just brushed it off as a normal tattoo.

As he was finishing his little snowman, he obtained some ice and morphed into a teddy bear. He ripped out a page from his notebook and wrote,

'For a child who needs it.'
​

and then proceeded to put the teddy bear on top of the note. Afterwards, he noticed an abandoned airport near him. Terra approached the building with caution and looked to see if there were survivors. To his surprise, there was a group of humans. He hid behind a wall and observed their actions.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

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[/class] [class=handsomedevil] text-align: center; width:30%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; border-bottom: dotted 1px #140033[/class] [class=speakeasy] border-top: dotted 1px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fcfbf2; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:10px; text-align: left; float:right; width:60%;[/class]
[div class=biggie]
NIKLAS LIAM VOSS
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝
[div class=speakeasy]“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]



RUST & STARDUST
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝


[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION: Newark Airport
TAGS: Hell0NHighWater Rui Chise_Robin_ (basically anyone fighing things, or can fight things?)
BGM: ELEKTRIK PEOPLE - LOVE WILL TEAR US APART



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]As the group's leader, caked with the finer scents of holy absolution, gave the afflicted newcomer a choice, said newcomer let a smile grace his face. It was a half-smile, but not simply a half resolution. He liked that he was being given the trust of a choice, despite what misgiving his new 'commander' may have had towards him. That required a level of suspending one's reservations. Because desperate times called for desperate measures, and the devil you do know (or the one that can at least be reasoned with) is better than the ones you don't. Which were subsequentially screaming out of the void in the airport, and launching themselves with what diminutive speed they did possess, to fell the survivors—had they the chance.

"I'm not going to dictate where you can --or can't-- go. You can stay with us and hold off whatever is coming or leave the airport with the rest. The decision is up to you." The choice, for him, was obvious. Though he had thought himself a painter, he rightly knew the paintings he created, with strokes of deep reds, titanium whites, and the deepest of burnt umbers, were not just paintings. They were marks of decay. Artists had a madness in them, often. Whether it was passion, love, seeing the unseen, exorcising internal mental demons, or otherwise. They were touched by fire, he felt. His had been a pale flame that burned for years. A flame of violence, a flame of lust within that violence. Perhaps, it was a flame aided by an unseen hand, belonging to something made of nightmares. A flame that was now emboldened and smothering all around him in black fires.

Diana had seen it, and yet she had not been afraid. Herself, drawn up in beautiful dark blues, dark polished nails, and long rolling brown curls, was the same. Their darkness shared in bites, bindings, talks of Russian masterworks, and thoughts on visiting France to see the city of bones beneath its feet. Together, walking arm and arm, and then at some point, with a child in their shared embrace. A girlchild. They would have made her laugh, he felt.

Because the pair of them had been nothing if not seekers of laughs so hard they put you in stitches. Cheesy rom-com movies they'd attend together, dressed up like old people, decked to the nines. She in some aging blue-white wig, in a Muumuu no less, and he with a hunched back, Cosby sweaters, and penny loafers. Possibly a cane. The movie-goers had no idea what they were getting themselves into, when the pair had shown up for their playful dates. The pair were in for laughs, to be plain.

There had been long nights at concerts, at one time. Long nights at clubs, at one time. Long nights in their loft, so many times. Dancing in the dark, talking about the future, standing underneath the hazy pink and purple clouds above their skylight, that gave way to twilight stars, and a slip of a cornflower blue moon. He'd let his head fall to her shoulder, smell her hair, and they'd talk for hours, rocking gently to classic music from the old gods of the beat, thrum, and bass. She smelled like rose water.

He wondered if she had been blessed. A martyr for the cause of his dissolution, possibly. And if he had always been afflicted. It pained him to think on it, so as his mind wandered, he refocused. No woman or child should have to die to make a man take action or change himself. What a fucking cliche.

"I don't doubt it."

Niklas let out a deep, short laugh when their fearless leader shot through a Revenant with a sickening pop, its blood pooling the floor where it lay. It would get up, eventually. These things could never stay dead. The pipe in his hand began to swing faster, and as a silver-haired beauty belted out her vibrant warning, the onslaught came closer. So many of them, such hungry maws, so many eyes, and fists, and teeth, and nails. All in matted hair, all clothed in dark slips of silt from the earth, blood, and body fluids.

The dapper part-time devil reared back his pipe, to set up a golf swing as he had with the pink Cadillac, and punted one of them straight through the face. It caved in on itself, broken bones cracking like an eggshell, blood pooling down its mangled flesh. He wasted no time in downing this one. They wouldn't be able to hold all of them off, but at least the survivors who had vigor in their veins and a heaping dollop of strength could help the others escape.

"Fore!" crooned Nik, setting up another whack, sending two Revenants slamming into each other. This seemed all a game to him, and it was, because it was fun. It was fun, and the affliction thrummed within his body, snaked up through his veins, and he basked in this darkness. It pooled off of him in waves. The bloodlust was here, the carnage, the war. He felt the throngs of a little death, and his teeth were razor sharp. No, he was no mere painter of pretty things. He was a painter of destruction, and blood was his paint.

And yet...he hadn't lost control, and hadn't done what possibly many others at his stage of affliction would do, and turn on the survivors. No, he was in the vanguard, helping to push back those not so unlike him. Except entirely different, of course. Because his own personal demons seemed to have a gracious bedside manner, and had a need for him to remain sentient. Unlike these creatures, whose Lords didn't care if they rotted from the inside, nor were able to form a cogent thought.

"...we're going to need to get the fuck out of dodge, very shortly," said Nik, almost as though he were sitting shotgun on some joyride. Hanging his head out the window as the wind whipped by, eyes to the heavens, for all the curses and wraths the lesser angels would throw his way. They would soon become besieged, he felt. And it was equal parts lovely, and equal parts terrifying. He couldn't get enough of it.

...until a Revenant poised itself behind one of the survivors still fleeing. Nik couldn't make his way there, as he was busy bludgeoning the fuckers to death with his slowly degrading metal pipe, and so he did the one thing he knew he should not do. It was an obvious display. It was a deliberate misstep. Their leader, and whatever other people of power—both holy and not—would know him as what he truly was. They could smell it on him if they were close enough, and possibly see the flickers of dark matter twisting on the air around him. But the rest? This was cause for alarm. This was cause for mistrust. He had only just gotten here, and already, this was what had to happen.

Fuck.

The man raised up his hand in a flat palm to the Revenant too far away to reach, and let his dark blue eyes rake the scenery to meet his target. He flexed his fingers, as if in some supine, quasi-contortionist performance, and then closed his fist. Pain Inducement. The Revenant clutched its head and flung to the floor, screaming out as Nik bade its body break down. As though its own skull was being immolated from the inside out, flecks of skin peeling off its face, rivers of boiled blood shooting from its dark eyes.

It wouldn't stay that way for long, and he couldn't do this to every fucking one of them. In fact, doing it too much within too short a timeframe had its own set of problems, not just that he would grow weaker, physically. But the control he somehow possessed, despite being what he was, would grow weaker. And weaker. And weaker. Until it was nothing, and whatever little left of himself he had would quite possibly be eaten up by whatever was trying to pull his strings.

Nik let his hand drop and swerved to cleave his metal pipe once more. This time, he knew it would break in the Revenant he tried to down with a sickening thwunk, and it did, lodging through its neck. He couldn't get it out, nor would he try. That was wasted effort. Instead, he kicked the Revenant to push it back, so that it fell further into the pipe and struggled to right itself. Now, for the blades.

Long, thin, penetrative, and tucked underneath the coat. Nik flung his coat off and over a Revenant's head, which was decidedly still trying to maw at whatever was nearest it.

"Alright. These. Are. Not...going...to be that useful..." he said as he stared at his weapons of choice, a frown forming. He audibly groaned and took one in each hand and punctured one of the Revenants nearest him through the eye, while the other hand did double duty to slash.

"...I should've learned how to shoot a fucking gun," he said to no one in particular. Now he felt like an ass for thinking guns could ever possibly be a coward's weapon. Lucky for him he was faster than anything had any business being, so the blades did their job, as long as he did his quick footwork and even quicker eyeball gouges.

[/div][/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

asd

location: airport
tags: Hell0NHighWater Anise Rui Lakyr @stainsoftime scorpiodragon Kaas Lotte

Alaska ​

As Rhys arranged the survivors into two groups there was some protests and arguing from some people, they wanted to fight the revenants as if it was the only important task at hand. Alaska was about to tell them that the safety of the people was their priority when one of those very revenants appeared only to be instantly but temporarily put down by Rhys. 'RUN' the witch's voice came alarming as people started to run around panicking.

The young hunteress's hands tightened around the stakes as she waited for what to come with excitement, it was her job anyways, and she enjoyed killing these sick bastards. Her wait wasn't long though, the deranged creatures surrounded the little group and started attacking mindlessly and in a dis coordinated way, quite the thing you'd expect from revenants really.

two revenants came running at her direction, two unfortunate women of about forty who might have been very well respected in their past days, Alaska impailed the first on her stake, she had a very long matted black hair that Alaska tied around the neck of the other revenant before impailing her on the second stake.

Revenants don't travel in groups.... Or at least they didn't use to...The thought of a vampire or a red eyed demon controlling them from not very far away seemed more plausible, and horrible at the same time. Alaska was about to communicate her worries to Rhys, to tell them that none of the groups would be safe if it were true, but she was interrupted with another pair of revenants that she shot in the head.

Gasps and cries came from her far right, as one of the revenants collapsed to the ground in excruciating pain, pain inducement Alaska thought as her memory raced back to the day of her own suffering. Her eyes searched the hall for the source of the inducement and settled on a pair of dark blue eyes and a half smile.....a half smile.

In the far corner with her back to the wall sat a little girl of about six clutching her back pack and shaking with fear, tears in her eyes smudged her vision and her legs felt too weak to move. In front of her was a tall hunch backed revenants with a missing arm, he kept approaching slowly, drooling and smiling with eyes bright. The girl's screams served as a distraction for the young huntress who -having emptied her revolver on another revenant previously- ran and jumped the revenant tackling him to the ground before he got to the girl. Not today asshole Alaska stared into his empty eyes before slitting his throat with the hunting dagger she pulled from a pocket attached to her leg. She stood up panting, clothes covered with blood as she watched the girl run to a distant man and hug him with all her strength.

.

design/code by Fable edited by Chise_Robin_

 

[Lakyr]

James

It wasn't the answer he expected, but the one he wanted anyways. And there was no time to wonder about it. He stepped up into the direction of the shrieking and screaming, just staying slighty behind Rhys. As a roaring gunshot drowned the sounds of hell for an instant and felled the first revenant for now he pulled his hunting knife out from under his jacket, holding it in the icepick grip in his left hand.

"RUN!"

This started the chaos, people began fleeing with no trace of a plan. They were just trying to get out, but it probably was the right thing to do anyways. The people who fought, they knew what they were doing he didn't need to look around to notice that and it gave him slight smile as he fixated on the hungry eyes running towards him. He took two steps forward and ducked away under the arms of the revenant as he took a third one lightly to the left. In that same motion he thrusted his knife deep into the monsters pelvis causing it to stumble. He tore his knife out as he straightened his body up again and removed the revenants head with a quick strike of his longer blade.

Immediately he turned back towards the source of danger and two more of the fanged bastards were rushing him. He went into a defensive stance fast, kicked one of them to the ground as he jabbed his knife into the other ones shoulder just keeping it out of reach to tear into him with its maw. It was clawing through his jacket as he lunged his machete through its throat. The revenant was weakly gurgling as he pulled out his knife again and put it next to his machete, so that he just had to rip both out, one to the left and one to the right, to behead it.

The other revenant tried to tackle him from the ground, but it wasn't fast enough. He jumped back swiftly, kicked it again but into the head this time then then jumped onto it, pressing it down with one knee as he went for another decapitation by just pushing down the blade with all his strength through the freaks neck.

Even through the roaring chaos he heard the newcomer talking. And, whoever he was, he was right, they should get out there, atleast if those things would just keep swarming them.

James took a split second to observe the room, to see what they were going to do and to take a deep breath before he'd jump back into the fray.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport
Date: unknown; sometime in 2068
Tags: BasiliskVeranda Rui GuavaJuiceXI Chise_Robin_ [/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
Rhys turned halfway, fear crawling around the base of his spine as those things stumbled out of the darkness. He hadn't expected them to come from behind, Revenants generally weren't smart enough to formulate such a plan. And for there to be so many was quite unusual to say the least.

A shallow laugh left him, hearing the afflicted's allusion to playing golf as his pipe connected with the head of another parasite. Rhys had turned towards the Revenant he had previously downed, watching as it rose; a pile of mangled limbs and a face of pure fury. Two rows of teeth, each as sharp as a dagger, nose the size of a small baked potato, dripping with gelatinous yellow streaked snot, skin a shallow white, flaking around the eyes and nose, nails like a sabre tooth tiger's, fangs glinting over rubbery pale gums, the monster advanced, screeching like the sound of a thousand nightmarish ghouls. For a moment he hesitated, pointer finger clutched around the trigger.

For a moment the world seemed to slow, his focus narrowing on the beast before him.

"Blessed be the Lord..."

He raised his gun, staring it dead in the face as it launched towards him.

"...my Rock, who trains my hands for war,"

His feet felt like lead, a searing tingle spreading across the very surface of his skin and out towards the barrel of his gun.

"and trains my fingers for battle."

He squeezed the trigger.
The gun discharged along with a blinding white glow. Rhys watched the bullet connect, the Revenant screamed in a momentary flash of agony before it too became enveloped in a pristine glow. Just as the words had finished tumbling out of him, reality seemed to pick up again and the monster was nothing more than a hallowed husk. He didn't have time to express his shock, the sounds of fighting kept him from really taking time to dissect what had just happened. His body felt like rubber, but he concentrated on the task at hand. Pick out a target. Shoot. Give someone a little more time. His bullets had never been able to kill one (besides the oddity that had just occurred) but they were able to incapacitate them for a moment at least.

This was far from an ideal situation and it only now dawned on him that they were being pinned in. He ignored the woman's suggestion, for he would not run. It had never been in him to run away. He would hold off for as long as possible before following, he just hoped that the second half of their group could leave through the path that he --and to his credit the pipe wielding afflicted-- had cleared.

"GO!" His voice thundered across the open space, vibrating with a certain power and command that forced people to listen. Turning his back to the quasi-devil, he went to shoot another beast but his gun clicked uselessly.
"Fucking-" He cut himself off, not having the time to consider reloading as another revenant rocked at him. Rhys twisted away, using the butt of his gun to clock the abomination upside the head. It staggered past him before whirling around again, looking more pissed off than anything. The edge of Rhys's mouth curled, a glint entering his eyes as he shifted his posture. The thing charged and Rhys moved in response, taking the knife that had been tucked against his thigh and plunging it into an eye socket. The knife entered with a slick squish, clear liquid mixed with blood oozing from the wound. He pulled it out with a firm tug, watching the thing stagger away with a howl. Searching frantically, he spotted a bench on the far side of the terminal. It was wood and looked a little worse for wear, but it would have to do. His boots slammed against the tile, legging moving as fast as he could force them to, and the revenant followed hot on his heels. He launched himself over the bench, satisfied with the fact that it creaked beneath him. He tugged at the arm, grunting in frustration as the screws held faithfully.

There was only one answer to this problem.
Rhys fumbled with the pockets of his jacket, heart pounding as adrenaline soared through his veins. He pulled out a cheap dollar store lighter, igniting it on the second try, and dropped it onto the bench. There was a soft pop, then a burst of flame as the fire caught on not only the bench but the clothes the revenant wore. It had been luck that the abomination chose that exact second to reach the bench, but honestly he wasn't about to overthink it. He moved away as it flailed about in panic, the fire spreading as it ran straight towards another group of revenants.

Breathless, moved towards the couple of survivors that were still engaged in battle. The man with the pipe had lost said object (or had discarded it, he hadn't been paying attention) and was now dancing around revenants with dual blades. He took the second to watch, almost amazed with his agility before he took in the others. It didn't seem like the group had separated in the way he had hoped and they had taken too much time dicking around. The woman who had initially voiced her opinion on their moving was gurgling on her own blood as a monster tore at her flesh. The man who had supported his opinion was now the source of a feeding frenzy...and the father and child? He didn't see them. He didn't want to see them.

Rhys clenched his jaw. He never prayed, didn't believe that it helped a goddamn thing, but now...now he was praying with all his heart that the rest had listened. Rhys forced his gaze away, watching mutely as the ignited revenant streaked across the hall. Azure orbs flickered to the other man, hearing the comment about not knowing how to shoot a gun but not saying anything in response. Now wasn't the time. There were more ear splintering shrieks coming from further down.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome."

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[Artificial Angel]

Terra

While Terra was observing them, he was spotted by 3 blood-thirsty revenants that were heading towards him. He knew that if he fought, he may blow his own cover but his life is more important he thought so he decided to raise his sword against them and fought.

He decided to go against the nearest revenant first. 3 slashes and all missed. He finally pierced the revenant through its heart, pinned it against the wall he used for cover, and grabbed his knife from his bag quickly . He used the knife to decapitate the head of the revenant. The knife broke from wear and tear but it did a good job on its purpose. The beast became motionless and died. The other revenant was coming towards him. He decided to ran outside, so he lured him outside and came out where he entered from and tried to slash his sword against him. Sadly, the sword missed the revenant. He tries another slash at the monster, it missed again. Terra felt his body becoming weak and tired but he knew that he could never give up or else he will never fulfill his promise.

He did not eat for some days but he had some biscuits and tea by an old woman this morning. The woman gave Terra some food for him but he could not accept it since it was bad to take food from strangers. The woman insisted he should keep it since she knew she will eventually pass away so he just took the food and left and bid farewell to the woman. Terra left with a sad look on his face but he knew that he must have high hopes for himself.

He tried another swing at the demon. In a fortunate turn of events, he cut the revenants head off with one single slash. The revenants head fell and its blood spilled to the white snow, dying it with a dark red. The last revenant was armless so the fight became much more easier for him. The beast fell and had a hard time getting up with no arms which made Terra sad since he knew these were people once. He just sliced of its head to end its misery. He entered the building once more to see if the group was fine. He saw a rag and decided to wipe off the blood from his sword with it. The rag smelled a bit weird and it looked a bit old, he discarded it afterwards.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

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[/class] [class=handsomedevil] text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; border-bottom: dotted 1px #140033[/class] [class=speakeasy] border-top: dotted 1px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fcfbf2; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:10px; text-align: left; float:right; width:62%;[/class]
[div class=biggie]
NIKLAS LIAM VOSS
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝
[div class=speakeasy]“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]






RUST & STARDUST
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝


[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxxxxxxxxxxxxNewark Airport > GTFO

OOC:xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Sorry for the fucking mammoth wall right here, I started it last night.

TAGS:xxxxxxxxxxxxx Hell0NHighWater Rui Chise_Robin_ Artificial Angel Lakyr (basically anyone fighing things, or can fight things?)

BGM:xxxxxxxxxxxxxx BROOKE CANDY - A STUDY IN DUALITY




[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]
It was becoming very clear to him that this was not some mere fluke. It was not a meetup of Revenants Anonymous gone terribly awry. Clearly, there was more to it than all that. And he wanted to see just who was behind the curtain, because it pulled at him. But he shouldn't have wanted it this badly. Pulled rough, with insistent hands, and gnarled nails. Except it would never clearly cleave him, which vexed him further. No matter how many times he had sat in solitude, hands stained bloody with the remains of some stranger he felt justified in killing, nothing came. Open-palmed hands to the sky, sitting like some stupid yogi, one eye open as he peered around him. Nope, nothing. There would be no grand entrance.

He wasn't talented in any of the unseen forces that any Witches may have had in their arsenal. He was no prophet, no terrifying thing connected directly to whatever was causing all the chaos that had befallen man and animal alike. He had no idea what he was doing, and it never worked. He was blessed by the deep and the dark, and yet, forgotten. Or prickled at in whispers, or feelings, or heat, or a madness. He romanticized all this, of course, ignorantly. He'd never be swept away by some dark God. This he knew.

Or, at least he thought he knew.

"GO!" Niklas would've usually responded to that in direct action, but he wasn't budging from the fight.

The part-time devil hadn't missed their commander's light show, either, which was also proving to be a distraction. He had simply been preoccupied. It has been equal parts dazzling, and equal parts inconvenient. There was a key magnetism there, drawing Nik closer, but also repelling him. He felt whatever whitelighter miasma that was twisting on the air like living smoke surge from their leader, rifle through his body, and then shoot out like a godly nuclear warhead. Yet pinpointed, precisely, through the barrel of a gun into a bullet, and out from a chamber. It made Nik's skin crawl, crackle, and he felt sick as a dog. But he didn't have time to clutch his stomach, nor upchuck like he had had one too many girly chocolate concoctions at a dive bar.

No, he had to push through. Because thinning the horde, and then getting the hell out of this shitshow, was what had to happen. And yet...

He was enjoying this too much. He felt the pounding in his ears like a deep-barreled drum of war, circling tainted blood in spikes, adrenaline shredding his nervous system. He felt his heart palpitating in his chest like a bird's wing, feathers breaking on each and every single solitary rib bone. The Unseen crackled, pulsed, and the affliction he bore scorched through his tattoos like the poison it was. He stabbed, cleaved, and bloodied his clothes further. Wash, rinse, repeat, and all the things that any being of war would do.

Perhaps it had been a direct response to his surroundings, or maybe a greater truth was that their commander had incited a spark. Whatever the case, it was getting too far. His deep blue eyes were wilder than they had been in quite some time, and the smile he wore, while felling what he could, and dodging what he couldn't, was unmistakable. Unhinged, razor-sharp, and hardly charming.

But he had preventative measures for this, ones as old as dirt, and given many superfluous names, by many superfluous people, trying to cash-in on the techniques that had given mankind clarity for thousands of years.

In between keeping himself alive, and trying to thin the unlikely horde of Revenants, he stilled his mind. He didn't have time to go gallivanting into the unknown, despite how sweet it was. It was a mistake. He knew this. And so he centered himself as Diana had taught him, which he had thought it quite possibly the dumbest thing she had ever tried to bestow upon him. He remembered sitting with her on the floor of their loft, eyebrows raised, as she tried to teach him breathing techniques. Meditation, as she had called it. Her thin fingers, tattooed with pagan markings, twisting, as though she were teaching him the most important lesson of his life.

But he had grown listless, and instead had found himself reaching for those same pale, marked hands. And as very interested couples are apt to do, they ended their night on the floor, staring at the stars again, wrapped in each other. She chided him, he rolled his eyes, and tossed her a cheeky grin. He had remembered what she had taught him, and it had brought him comfort in this time of literal hell on earth. Perhaps it truly had been his life's greatest lesson.

Thoughts came in, he broke down his actions to basic impulses, and thoughts left. He let them sift through, and out. Niklas made note of what exactly they were, but didn't dwell. Because, this thing...this wretched, throbbing thing, this meaty, demanding, insistent thing, was still just a wallflower taking up space in his veins.

If it really wanted him, it'd have to show up and take him. Whatever "it" was. Be it God, or Devil, or intergalactic overlord on a bad acid trip—it'd need to make itself known. For as much as he didn't like the Western Religions, Country Music, and the atrocity that was bad haircuts on handsome men, he didn't like passive flirts. This was why he antagonized the throngs of damnation at every opportune moment. Because it had never outright abetted itself.

Their courtship was never to consummate, even if he could feel it around him now. His control over himself likely had almost nothing to do with the Witch in Queens, he felt. Because it was more than he understood, and greater than she could've given him.

These thoughts were persistent, but he let them go, one by one, like sand running through his fingers. He breathed, fought, and watched the people around him.

He noticed the dark-haired girl with the revolver. She was a great shot, and had hair that reminded him of the one he had cared for most, and for the briefest of moments, he saw a smear of white across his vision. Like a beautiful painting, like her. Nik pushed the idea of Diana away, that was too sore a spot, and the wound would never heal over. Not in a million lifetimes would he be able to exorcise her ghost from his addled mind, ailing flesh, or porose bones. He heard her gun go off, he watched her presence, and he breathed.

What would she look like, turned up around herself, taut through a spike or—No.

The control over the delicious tarpit innards of hell that boiled within his veins tipped back and forth like a clicking metronome. He could walk this line that others could not. But for how long? And should something clearly meet his insistent, cloying, nigh unyielding needs, what would he do to attribute himself to it? Would he need to do worse than he already had? What sin would make this happen? This, he wondered, and again, let the thoughts drain away like bitter wine down into the sinkhole of a silvered drain.

Then came what looked to be a teenager, dark-haired, and fighting fully and freely. Smart moves paired with smarter, keener knife work. Niklas appreciated people who were good with knives. Because the knives themselves brought to mind the rending of flesh, and all the delicious colors that came with it. He preferred the hues of bruises, which he had given plenty to others—and had received plenty—in his day. But there was nothing like the cleaving of something perfectly sharp. Like butter, and butter was like the fat on the leg when—No.

Then came their leader setting a Revenant on fire. Niklas was all but playing a game of touch-football with Revenants at this point, and trying to both go towards and stave off whatever was bathing him in its presence—mentally. A man on a wire, capable of going either way, but he just needed a direct push. The boy was a bit too stupid—or perhaps far too particular—and would not just jump towards hell. He wanted to be dragged over the line, not thrown small pebbles at by a cowardly suitor.

His body moved fluidly, he fielded thoughts, cleaved away skin from Revenant bone, and at some point, he drove his thinnest blade through a Revenant's ear canal. It spindled to the floor like a spool of yarn, unwound. And yet he saw another flash of paint, pale, and strange.

There were several thoughts that came through his mind of their leader, now a verifiable whitelighter of much esteem. One of which was that Nik would very much not like to be sent screaming into the netherworld by his pyrotechnics, aptitude with firearms, or blessed nuclear bullets. Another was that he did not want to get on this man's bad side, which would potentially prove an impossible feat. They were very specifically oil and water.

The last thought being, however, he would actually probably very much like to get on his bad side. Or perhaps any side. Maybe this was the sign he needed that there were other plans in store for him. Niklas was not superstitious. It was strange enough to have stumbled into a group like this, stranger still was this horde, and even stranger than that was this power that had been displayed nearest him. Not to mention the pyrotechnic display with a reeling Revenant, shimmying along the promenade as it screamed out in pain.

An odd series of events, to be plain. He was used to so very much, but these were newer things. Shinier things. Things that caught the light, and vibrated, with some sense of importance. Maybe, he thought, this was where he needed to be. He thanked Diana, if her ghost was indeed swimming around him in protection, or perhaps guiding him.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome." He nodded his affirmation and then shot his eyes towards their apparent commander, his gaze holding steadfast, as if he were trying to bore his eyes through the man's skin, to see within it. To see the thing that sat there, because he felt it, but he couldn't understand it.

"Then let's get the fuck out of here," he said with a flash of his characteristically charming smile. The blond stepped back on his feet, body facing the onslaught, and quite simply turned on his shoes, and ran with the speed afforded to him. He had left his coat behind, and it was indeed far too cold for any of this. The cold licked at him, his lungs hurt from running, but he did so. As he ran, he kept looking back at the girl with the revolver, the teen with the knife work, and any others that would come after. And he looked at the one with the white light so squarely within him, that even being in his presence was painful.

But not painful enough for him to do much about it. The thing about Niklas was quite simply this: he welcomed pain. There was no other way to word that concept, because the rest did not do the simplicity any justice. He had always been this way, and it would be this way until the day he died. Strung up by some nine million foot, gurgling monstrosity with tentacles, or something equally daft, with a stupid look on his face.

Or perhaps shot dead in a ditch by, you guessed it, revolver-girl, carrying a smile. Or stabbed by knife-kid, finally set free from this torture of being between two worlds.

Or maybe blown apart by the wielder of such impossible bullets, who he liked to stare at, even if staring right now gave him a headache.

He kept looking back, and hoping for the safety of those less inclined to book it like an impossibly fast short distance runner. If their leader was in front of him, standing still, or running, he hadn't yet fully noticed...because he saw a figment. Warbled in and out the frame of existence, directly on top of their leader, or perhaps juxtaposed like a piece of thin film, warbling between this world and the next.

Nik cast a glance back at the others running, and saw her again, in their visage, moving like a smeared film. A flash of brown hair, a deep blue dress, torn up to the hip, tattoos on her fingers, her face blurred and shattered like an old film still. She flickered, vanished, and his heart leaped up into his chest.

He looked at their commander once again, and she was shaping and twisting within him. His eyes grew wide and glassy. She popped on her heel, and begun to skip past them all, as if in play...leading him. He couldn't make out her face, but it was her, and she was shifting within all of them. The survivors fleeing, the fighters fighting, but she scrawled across that landscape like a paint smear, and back to the man made of the stuff of angels. Of the rose water, and the sage, and the other things he couldn't place.

Nik's breathing was erratic, and he kept looking at the ground, and back to her, as she apparently found it amusing to dance around his vision. And lead him forward.

"You...can't be here right now," he said in the smallest of child's whispers, pain in his throat, his eyes on fire. She turned to look at him, still skipping backwards on her feet, and pressed her inked finger to her obscured mouth, as if to make a noise. She hovered in the air at that moment, glitching across the scene, staring at him with eyes he could not see. But felt.

Shhh.

He was clearly crazier than he thought. Or...

She vanished in an instant.

Or she truly was with him, all along.

[/div][/div]

 

[Kaas]

[class=Notes] //So this is an older code that I tried to fix up to look nicer// //Forward slashes are comments // //and do no show up in the final design,// //these are to help you find everything easily// //and explain some code as well // //These comments must be with in a class or script tags// // in order to be hidden, from what I know. // //Long URls are images// //# followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes// //or color codes// //this code does not show breaks unless is shows the
code. // // when typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press ente// // it will not show that you did. you'll have to use the
tags// [/class]

[class=Notes] //The background image// [/class]

[class=Notes] //the image in the cirlce and the border// [/class]
[class=Notes] //Below is the purple box and the content meant for tags// [/class]

BGM: Aviators - Fading Light
Located: Newark Airport
Mentioned: Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda

code by AgWordSmith

[class=Notes] //the transparent with background and the border and below is the text// //Green text hex is #8DB600// [/class]

"Make sure they all get there safe, yeah?"
Adisa nodded and began to round up the survivors, whom all reluctantly followed the maniacal man through the secret passageways that he prayed would be clear of revenants. They ran and rushed away from the main group, disappearing into the inky shadowy ways. Adisa charged forward, glancing over his shoulders to make sure his entourage was still in close pursuit. They ran like wild animals, even those incapable of fast movement rushed forwards in a steamroll through the abandoned airport. But they were halted when a sudden scream came up from behind. Adisa's stomach dropped as he watched a bloody figure tearing through the survivors. His eyes widened in horror, his legs frozen in fear. The wet sound of meat being torn from its skeletal foundations filled the silent air now filled to the brim with silent fear. Those who were not paralyzed by fear tried to run but soon met their fate at the hands of another abomination lurking on the outside. One by one, the survivors fell. Until one was left.

The Prophet
(Highly suggested BGM for this scene)

Violence has never been Adisa's area of expertise. He never got into scuffles, never knew blood upon his knuckles from impacting them upon another. But he knew how to kill, and he knew how to do it in more ways than ever thought possible. He was a healer now, yes, but the past can never be erased. As the pack of revenants drew nearer, with eyes filled with bestial joy and ecstasy and maws filled with still steaming blood from the recent killings. Adisa closed his eyes. He held his arms outstretched, his palms raised upwards. He was praying. Praying for a miracle.

The beasts halted their advance as they felt the blessing and protection of Legba hold them at bay. Adisa's eyes flitted beneath his eyelids, feeling the spirit of Ogoun entering into him. His palms began to glow, softly like a candlelight. The revenants began to back away, but it was far too late. Adisa's eyes shot open, but now only flames burned within his eye sockets. The licked outwards, coating his face in a burning orange glow. He was a man possessed, and the raging inferno within him was seeking to be released. His mouth opened and a red light shone out from inside his throat. His skin glowed, his blood boiling from the heat and his stomach acting as the kiln for his rage. Flames began to bellow up deep inside him. The flames began to spew out and forward from the Immolator. The sparks and fire sought out the revenants and attached to their skin, digging deep into their flesh. They screeched and howled in pain, rolling and running in a vain attempt to douse the flames. But the fire clung to them like napalm, burning them to a crisp. Adisa was consumed by the fire, it rose up and around him, and began to spread outwards from him in a cloud of vengeance.

The fire was unstoppable now, but it did not burn what it touched. It only burned those unworthy and tainted by vampiric means. The fire crawled and shot through the hallways, finding its way towards the monsters that were tainted by the bite of Cain's children. It shot into them, burning and cleansing them. Their skin bubbled and burnt, their blood boiled and steam and their minds were torn even further in twain from the pain. Adisa screamed and screamed in his far-off corner, the blood curdling but recognizable voice reaching even the survivors. But the flames persisted, as did the screams. As the survivors battled on to fend off the revenants, a tidal wave of flame found it's way towards the creatures and washed over them. It consumed the room and ate away at the revenants that attacked the Chosen Ones ceaselessly. But none of the survivors could feel the flames lick of pain that seared the skin of the vampires orphans. Not even Niklas could feel the fire of Ogoun upon his skin. After the last of the revenants collapsed into a wheezing pile, so to did Adisa. He struggled to breathe and collapsed into a smoking heap on the ground. Masego quickly curled into his best friends shirt and did his best to console him from the ordeal, quite frightened by the show itself. Adisa closed his eyes and spoke once more before falling unconscious. The words found their way into the minds of all the remaining survivors, clear as day as if he was speaking right in front of them.

"Run, it is not over yet."​

 

[Lekiel]

Reverie Lowiezka

Location: Walgreens Storage Room, Newark Airport| Interacting with: Empty Brown Cartons| Mentions: Random Airport Props

❖ ❖​

Mama... Mama... Mama...

She awoke with a start. Eyes flying wide open as the vivid recollections of a dream or was it a memory? scattered into the still quiet air, like the particles of dust that even now danced among the brown cartons that were stacked at odd intervals on the rusty metal shelving. Highlighted by the ray of cold light pouring in from within the gaps of the boarded up windows, hazel eyes traced the erratic patterns the minuscule remains of dead skin, and other such fuzz flaked off from any number of unnamed objects and beings that had passed in that soulless room. Reverie rested her head back against the barricaded door and stared at the ceiling vacantly. The echoes of childlike voices teased at the vestiges of her consciousness, and she began to wonder why it looked as if she were looking out into the world from a shell.

The eyes are the windows of the soul. Didn't she used to say that..? A flash of sapphire irises with breathtaking pulchritude and girlish laughter. A forested clearing, with stark twisted trees against a backdrop of purest cotton white. Warm hands pressed against her cheeks and the haunting scent of neroli blossoms filled her nostrils as she melted into an endless embrace. Things had been so much simpler back then. An insouciant blissful being with only one rule: to find the colours and patterns that make you, you, and to mark out your own little niche corner in the tapestry of existence. There was no burden of heritage and tradition. No drive to carry on the conventions of some long dead person simply because that was the thing to do. To have your raison d'être be dictated by someone you've never met. Where was the definition in that? Were we all here just to step in the never-ending line that had no beginning and led nowhere? Just the by-products and slaves of an industry we ourselves created. Was that the reason why the hellish spawns chose this moment to be unleashed upon the world? Some omnipotent being's attempt to erase a meaningless insult to sentience and start over?

She looked to her side then. Stiff fingers reaching down to close over the rough and worn grips of the revolver. She felt the grooves and the cold metal. She could feel the raw potential kept hidden under its polished surface. She pulled it into her lap, hitting the cylinder release catch, and noted the singular piece of ammunition still lodged in its compartment. Perhaps she should just give that transcended being a hand and end it there and then? Wasn't that what he had said when he handed the gun over to her? I saved two. This one's mine, but the last one's for you. Don't forget to turn out the lights... But she had been a coward. At least she remembered to turn the switches off.

A sudden clearly audibly cry resonated off the walls breaking her stupor. At first, she thought it one of the ghosts from her past and dones, come back to wail their regrets at her. But... no. It came from somewhere out in the empty hallways of the terminals, its strength muffled by the closed door. Surely that was a call to the hunt. Perhaps 'One With Big Teeth' getting frustrated over his elusive prey. But revenants never wailed like that. Some kind of hellish hound? A vampire? Survivors? Somehow, her stomach told her it was the latter. Rule #3: Always trust your gut. But it mattered not. Such a cacophony of sound would surely attract all manner of hellish spawn from miles around. It was time to depart the terminal.

The brunette wobbled to her feet on aching bruised knees, leaning against the barricaded door for support. From her backpack, she retrieved a claw hairpin, rearranging her cocoa brown tresses out of her face before knotting the trails of lace at the throat of her black blouse and pulling the zipper on her white anorak. One should always make an attempt to look one's best, no matter the situation. It was a rule, set by the dictator of the Galloway Mansion. Though she hated him with every ounce of her being, it had stuck to her. Like the fact that you'd always have maple syrup with oat porridge for breakfast on Fridays; at least before hell broke loose. She performed some stretches, while she set about exploring the room.

From the labels on the boxes, she surmised that she was in some storage area for a pharmacy. She sifted around the brown cardboard, most of which turned up empty or unusable. But she did manage to find some items to replenish her depleted supplies of hygiene unguents and powders. Dry shampoo was perhaps one of mankind's greatest inventions. Though her internal alarm was beginning to whine, she risked digging into one last row of boxes, rewarding herself with a couple packages of levonorgestrel pills. A quick look at the printed date revealed that they were only just expired, but it was nothing that a little alchemy couldn't fix. Plus, she could at least look forward to stopping the bleeding altogether when it was the time of the month; perks of being a woman in a post-apocalyptic world. Satisfied with her shopping haul, Reverie set about removing the nailed boards at the windows.

The biting chill swept in in full force as she removed the last plank from the gaping portal. Reverie stuck her head out and surveyed the land, looking for an escape route. From her vantage point on the mezzanine floor, there were only non-descript buildings as far as her eye could see. A distant yellow signboard hinted at a gas station to the south. If she was lucky, there might be a bike for her to salvage. Not that she had any particular place to be but she figured anywhere with fewer people would mean fewer revenants. That meant she should be out from the city as soon as she could. Where she went from there, was anybody's guess. A lamp post just off to the side a couple of feet away provided her means of getting down. Or she could creep back the way she had come, assuming the trio of hooligans weren't waiting for her downstairs. She bit her lip in hesitation for a moment, but the lamppost was the safer and more obvious choice. She heaved a sigh, it was time to say goodbye. It was odd, but she was beginning to feel an attachment to her little hideaway.

She wrapped a rag around her palms and was one foot out the window before a flash of insight caused her to pause. Heading back in, she quickly set about dismantling the barricades as quietly as she could. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened intently for a moment. Hearing nothing, she slowly closed her hand over the knob and twisted the chrome handle, releasing the lock with a click. She half expected 'One With Big Teeth' to come barging in, but nothing dramatic of that sort happened. Pity. At least now, perhaps sometime in the future, one such as her might appreciate the open door to the left of the mezzanine floor a welcome sight, if they were in similar circumstances.

Her quota of philanthropical actions filled for the month, Reverie headed to the window once again. Sitting on the sill with both legs balancing precariously on a thin ledge, she took a steadying breath before jumping out and catching the lamppost like a (clumsy) sugar glider. The metal pole wobbled a little, but held, allowing Reverie to slide down its length to the ground.

"That... was fun." The brunette remarked to no one (obviously), as she wrung her hands to stave off the friction burn.

code by Ri.a

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport
Tags: Rui Lakyr Kaas GuavaJuiceXI @stainsoftime BasiliskVeranda Anise [/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
God damn that smile. There was half a moment where he thought his heart might have stopped and his stomach rolled in protest. Then he reminded himself that this was not a man to be trusted, no matter how objectively attractive he may have been. Rhys nodded curtly, forcing himself to remain neutral and not to get caught up in those dark blue eyes. The only thing that should matter was survival.

His feet pounded the linoleum with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete, the springing graceful steps of earlier had long since disappeared. His rasping throat was as parched as a dead lizard in the desert sun and he was starting to agree with the blonde --albeit reluctantly-- that maybe water should be more of a priority. His head bobbed loosely from side to side with each footfall and his eyes felt heavy in their sockets, yet he kept pushing. It was either run or die at this point and Rhys really wasn't ready to meet death so soon.

He tugged at the lapel of Luci's coat half dragging and half helping him run faster. A revenant launched itself towards them, fingers soaked in human blood and bits of flesh caught under the nails. Rhys turned sharply, almost slamming into someone as he avoided the strike. His feet tripped up and for one gut-wrenching second he thought that he was going to fall. His hand shot out wildly, grasping on to the only thing tall enough to level him. Sapphire orbs flashed upwards, too stunned to keep his expression flat as he looked up into a pair of mismatched eyes. He righted himself and let go of the young witch, a soft dusting of pink hedging his cheeks as he cleared his throat. A scream shocked him out of whatever it is he was about to say, wildly turning to look back at Adisa.

The Prophet stood with his palms facing to the heavens and then there was fire. A swirling inferno that caused him to duck out of self preservation. When he realized that the flames did not hurt him, or burn at all really, he took the time to watch as a good portion of the revenants around them burn to a smoldering crisp. A beat later and the man fell. Rhys changed direction so fast he could have given himself whiplash, but it didn't matter. He wasn't about to leave anyone behind. As soon as he reached Adisa, he hauled the unconscious man over his shoulders with a grunt.

"Shit, why are you so heavy?"

Rhys booked it as fast as he could, not trusting that whatever spell the witch had casted would last very long. He was almost there, the doors were in sight, and he could make out the soft glow of daylight from the dirty windows when something cold and scaly brushed against the back of his neck. His eyes went wide, spine rigid, and steps faltering as he turned to look behind him.

A pair of beady eyes stared back.

He screamed.

The snake's (Masego's? He never bothered to learn its name) gaze stayed fixed on Rhys, a dark tongue flitting into the air every few seconds, tasting the fear, the cologne, the sweat. In that head, he imagined the thin fangs, ready to inject a fatal amount of venom deep into his muscles. He didn't think anything could be much worse than a horde of revenants. But he had been so, so utterly wrong. He fumbled with Adisa's body, profanities streaming out of him as his voice climbed higher and higher in pitch. Panic had seized him and if it wasn't for the fact that there were a bunch of monsters behind him he would have dropped the poor guy and the snake.

Rhys pushed past the doors, trying to ignore the snake that had nestled itself between the prophet's chest and his back. Almost as soon as ran out into the barren streets, the cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach.

"Get this fucking thing off of me!!" He screeched into the snowy landscape, not caring that anything out there could have heard him. The frigid wind bit at the wetness leaking from the corner of his left eye, body trembling as he struggled to push down the fear. Rhys could only remember that rattle, an echoing ominous sound that his twelve year old brain didn't register as a warning. He hadn't seen it in time, the reptile that struck out of fear as much as hostility. He had spent his entire summer in the hospital that year and the trauma that snake instilled in him never left.

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[GuavaJuiceXI]

Luci

"F-frick frick frick FRIICK!!" Luci yells as he runs down the corridor. He didn't expect complete anarchy to overtake the group. After Rhys gave Luci a friendly push, a revenant came and separated the two. Luci knew he had to help fight, he couldn't just leave these people, He needed to help. Scratch getting the water, they wont need it if they're all dead. Luci stops in his tracks and turns around to look upon the chaos once more. It was either they all died, or some of them live, they had to fight, fleeing was not an option, they'd just hunt us down. A revenant finally takes notice of Luci, reading a pounce. Luci was one step ahead, charging the foul beast. Luci quickly pivots his torso, and stretch's his arm out, slamming his bicep into the beasts throat, crushing it. The revenant flops down onto the floor, defeated. A sudden pain brings Luci to his knees. He grips his chest, trying to stop the festering ink from spreading. They need to reorganize if they want a chance at survival. They NEED to leave. Luci grits his teeth as he stands. "EVERYONE APART OF THE SEARCH GROUP, REGROUP ON THE FIRST FLOOR!" Luci yells.

 

[Lakyr]

James

He noticed all the weird in the fight around him, but he didn't wonder about it right now, he couldn't take the time for that. Revenants were all around them, it was like they had some kind of tactic some order. They were attacking from multiple directions and it were so many. This wasn't an ordinary fight and seeing this chaos and this horde of revenants made him step back in time ...

New York was burning. The earth was ripped open and the fires of hell began eating the whole city up. He saw buildings crumble and the monsters that rushed out the cracks together with the flames. Somewhere in there was his family ... he didn't know where, but he couldn't search them now anyways. He had to get out, they would too, he'd find them then. After this was over. Others were with him, he couldn't imagine how terrified they must've been. They never knew anything about monsters and now this? Atleast he had been fighting the evil for all his life and he was still panicking inside right now. He did his best to get any of them out. Constantly running and fighting, slashing away at all the dark things that got into his way. In the end he couldn't get anybody out but himself.

He snapped out of it again noticing that he had felled two more revenants, heads lying next to their bodies. Even the other fighters around him had started to run by now and they did right by that, there was no reason in fighting an seemingly endless amount of foes. But he couldn't start running now, revenants started attacking him and he did his best to fend them off. Cutting into one of them repeatedly with his machete as he thrusted his knife into the head of another beast. A third one grabbed him from behind, clawing through is clothes and biting into James' shoulder. He tried to hit it with his weapons and to push it off of him as suddenly flames engulfed him.

He wanted to cry out in pain and fear but it got stuck in his throat as he noticed that he felt nothing. He stood there in shock, listening to the screeching of cracklingly burning revenants.

Turning around he saw the smouldering remains of many a monster and the "Witch Doctor"-esque man collapsing to the ground. James was thankful as he saw Rhys carrying the man out, it would have been annoying to do it himself. He ran out into the cold just slightly in front of them and stopped just as soon turning towards the airport to see who was making it out.

 

[Rui]

STELLA:​

The silver haired maid was in a swarm of them, her cries attracting the attention she’d hoped they would, enabling the survivors, but more importantly him, to escape.

Finally, her patience wore thin. She’d been permitting their advances, their attacks, warding them off with threatening mental images she could project. However, it grew tiresome using her abilities so early in the evening. Her eyes shimmered, a kind of cold fire blazing within her mismatched irises.

Her fingertips crackled with electricity, light that looked unlike anything running through cables and wires from the time before. A small smile graced her lips, and she stepped delicately forward. Her projections ceased, and the first revenant lunged for her. A hand upon its face was all it took to bring the humanoid beast to a permanent rest, it’s matted hair blackening, standing on edge by the massive shock. More of the foolish beasts began to launch towards her, the fiends unable to comprehend or learn from the first’s mistakes, as she’d hoped. She pouted, clenching her hands, flexing her fingers as she outstretched them again.
“You simple creatures never learn. Like humans.” She murmured, leaping into the air, her expression remaining soft as she bounced onto the charging creature’s shoulders, her bare feet cracking as her hands did, dispatching the revenant as she leapt off of it like a springboard. She landed on the head of next, the trail of electricity taking it out as well. Once she’d reached the 4th however, her electricity could do little more than stun.

She was tired, her exhaustion due the early hour. She used the last of her strength to launch herself, running as she left the fourth and final beast stunned until it could regain its senses; enough time to locate a new source of light for the time being. She was about to dart away when she was grabbed by a falling figure. She yelped; an uncharacteristic vocalization for the tiny witch. Mismatched eyes met a brilliant blue, and her cheeks, too darkened with a flush. A hand had made contact with her, ehem, chest, and yet as soon as it was there, it was gone, along with the man attached. For a moment Stella was unable to comprehend this turn of events, but the screech of the odd witch doctor man returned her good senses to her.

With renewed vigor, she leapt onto the kiosk at the nearest gate, searching over any left over items from the survivors.
Upon finding a flashlight, dim and weak as it was, she turned it on, and and waited as it flickered, dimming and brightening before finding the happy medium of “on”. She placed her open palm over the end. The light pulsates, dimming, then violently flashing before it darkened completely. She sighed, like an addict taking a hit. For her, the power was an addiction. Gaining more was a high in and of itself. She smiled her little smile once more, then cresent moon on her forehead, typically not visible, faintly glowing. The revenant had begun to stir, and she walked slowly towards it. As it rose, becoming aware, her hand was already extended, mere inches from its chest, where a beating heart should lie.

“Goodnight.” She whispered, then the electricity popped, sharp like a rubber band snapping, as she placed her hand upon it.

The smell of burning hair was repugnant, and the faint odor of smoke was wafting through the space as she lightly stepped away, her arms extended as though dancing, swaying with the motion of her body, lackadaisical yet full of a ballerina like grace.
She followed the survivors at a delicate pace, humming ‘Für Elise’ as she went.

She burst from the airport, the doors flying open for her exit. The cold hardly bothered her, in her white linen sun dress. Hardly an outfit for the snow, however, she did blending in quite well. Her humming continued until she heard Rhys’ panicked screams. She was focused then, her humming coming to a stop.

In a moments time she was beside him, observing the exchange between the snake and he, and admittedly, delving into his mind to see the traumatic snake-phobia causing event. She delicately reached over and grasped the snake, lifting it up ever so slightly, and coaxing it to slink up the opposing arm, projecting pleasant thoughts to it as encouragement.
“He’s called Masego,” she began, curling the snake into herself as she spoke, “He worries for Adisa, and desires your warmth. He’s cold blooded, you see, so being out in the snow like this so suddenly after being warmed by the fires is quite a shock.” She stroked the reptile affectionately, “I’m sorry he frightened you. That rattle snake incident was rather traumatic for you, and I understand your fear, however I can assure you Mordega means you no harm at all.” Her voice remained gentle, soft, and a bit comforting, despite the fact that she’d just admitted to psychically picking his brain.

With that, she place the snake onto Adisa’s unconscious form, then turned, her humming resuming as she walked in the same fashion in which she came, this time however, she delicately spun in the snow, seemingly floating like the snowflakes that fell.
A silver girl in a sea of silver snow.
Hell0NHighWater Kaas​

 

[JustAki]

White flakes falling gracefully to the ground, Covering the ugly world with white feathers. There in the snow stood a woman that's in her 20's, Shivering in cold, She stood there looking for someome, no for something to come out.

Holding her shotgun and making sure that her dagger is with her, Haruka stood proudly and silently, like a lion looking at a prey, waiting for the time to come out and devour the unsuspecting prey. Tense shoulders and sharp green eyes flickering places to places. Ears open for any noises to be heard and breathing silent and heavily. After suspecting that nothing was going to be in her way, She started to walk in the heavy snow, each step leaving footprints behind.

"Cold... "Haruka muttered, continuesly coughing as time pass. 'So cold, better find a shelter fast. I'm tired and my backpack is heavy. I can't go on with this cold any longer and it's getting dark' She thought, sighing because of
the cold. Looking in front of her, there stood an abandoned airport that have been void of existence.

'Jackpot! ' Haruka cheered in her mind for how lucky she is,finding a shelter to camp by.
But this didn't made anything easy, this made her even more tenser, knowing there could be any monsters lurking inside. Thinking about monsters made her heart drop.
She's tired, she won't be able to fight and if she won't be able to fight, she'll die.

Walking towards the building, Haruka noticed a snowman, an ice teddy bear and a Note near it in front of the airport which was strange sight for her. "A snowman? Who could have build that? A child? No,It's too detailed for a child so probably an adult or someone with ice magic and Nevermind what I said, Its probably made by someone with ice magic " Haruka muttered, Looking at the snowman with her sharp green eyes. 'Don't tell me, there's survivors here? Cold, better come inside than stand here like a goddamn idiot' She thought, checking If her shotgun is loaded and hiding her dagger inside her jeans, making it easier to get if danger comes in her way. Haruka then spit, her spit flew like clear strings of water before landing to the ground. Spitting is, as her Father quote, a sign of Goodluck. She took the note and looked at it "For a child who needs it". She look at the teddy bear, seeing that it was made of ice, she couldn't take it. She pouted and then looked at the airport with determination in her eyes.

"Good luck to me" Haruka said to herself. She then walk inside looking for anything useful only to see an ugly woman with bloody teeth walking slowing to an unconscious man. She walk to the monster only stopping 6 meters away from them.

She pointed the gun at the head of the woman and said loudly "Hey monster" The woman then looked at her which made Haruka crunch her face. "Monsters like you should never exist" She said rudely to the monster who snarled at her for reply. She shot the revenant at the head and walked to it's bloodfull body. She grabbed the hair of the revenant, taking her dagger, she cutted the head of the woman which made blood flow out underneath the woman's headless body before throwing it away. She wipe the blood off her dagger by wiping it to the slight dirty and not bloody part of the revenant's cloth.

Haruka sighed in relief, taking her bag, getting her first aid kit, water and shells for her shotgun. She then tap the guys cheek. "Wake up" She said, tapping the guys cheek again and again. After a while of just tapping
-and slapping- the guy, he stirred at his sleep and open his eyes.

"Thank God, Hey are you okay or no? " Haruka asked the man who she then notice had black hair and dark red eyes and wears an absolutely ridiculous outfit
-cosplay guy -. The man responded, ”Who are you and what did you do to me?", in confused tone. He then stand up and started to walk away.

"Seriously? Wait! aren't you gonna thank me or what? " Haruka asked, pouting lightly because she doesn't like to be ignored. The man turned to her and said a quiet thank you before starting to walk away again.

"wait, come on. You never mentioned your name. By the way, the name's Haruka , Haruka Yagami. "Haruka introduce herself as she ran toward the man who look at her smiling face. "Terra" He emptily said which made Haruka to moan and looked trouble by his answer. " That's it, just Terra? " She said, looking at the man's back as he walk away from her.

Haruka sighed and got the forgotten water bottle, first aid kit and the box of shell which was near the dead body of the revenant. She then sat down away from the body, drinking the water and putting her first aid kit and water back in her bag. She then load her shot, wearing the strap as she stood up, getting her lighter and walking to the dead body who she decided to burn for her to get any warmth.

Haruka then sat down near the dead burning body, looking at the burning body with sad eyes. Remembering her previous group, All of them were all laughing happily, talking about happy memories. Haruka was seated beside her Bestfriend, looking at him with adoration in her eyes. All she can see was him, Locke. Her bestfriend since she imigrated to America, the first one to befriend her. "Ruka, Look at this" He said, showing Haruka a picture of him in a Thor costume when he was a kid. She smirk -in a villainous way- and took the picture, showing it to the group who laugh at the picture and Locke's gaping face then the scene change into a nightmare. Everyone was dying. Haruka then look at her right side only to see Locke's bloody face who mouthed something 'Run'. Over him is a man with deadly pale skin and bloody mouth. She felt herself freeze as she saw the vampires teeth gets closer to Locke's neck. She felt her heart beat faster and her legs suddenly feel weak. She couldn't take it and she ran away from the scene, leaving them who screamed loudly. After a while of running, She felt weak and she tripped on a rock, colliding on a sharp metal. She cup her face, feeling something wet. Looking at it, she saw blood, many of it, Dripping non-stop.

After hearing a crunch behind her, she snap back into reality. She took her dagger and lift it in order to see what was behind her. 'a Revenant' Haruka thought as she caught the reflection of a bloody man with half of his face gone -eaten to be exact- who was walking slowly toward her. She stood up, twirling to face the man with a troubled face. She sighed and point her gun at its head. She then slowly press the trigger, shooting it in the head and making the revenant fall backwards. The noise was heard through out the building, echoing through the building.

Haruka then close her eye, focusing in order for her to hear noises easily. She breath slowly and steadily. After a while of trying to hear noises, she didn't hear anything, she walk toward the dead man and starts to pull the body towards the wavering fire. She put it in the fire, looking at the body as it burn away. Getting a canned food and opening it using her dagger, she look at it hungrily. She then prayed for the safety of her family, Terra and survivors
-for the food too of course- and after that, she then devoured the food like there was no tomorrow, finishing it after 5 minutes. She drank some water and decided to spent the night looking at the fire.

 

[Artificial Angel]

Terra

He wakes up because he suddenly felt a continous tapping to his face and sees a revenant near him, not moving with its head seemed to be cut off from its body. The blood almost stained Terra's clothes but it luckily did not reach him. A girl that had black hair with white tips, emerald green eyes and a noticable scar on her face asked him, "Hey, are you okay or no?". The girl startled Terra which made him jump and raise his sword. "Who are you and what did you do to me?", he said in a worried tone since he did not know what happened to him and how he layed on the floor. He checked to see if the girl was a demon or not, he confirmed it was not a demon nor a spirit. He saw a water bottle near him as well as a first aid kit but decided not to drink the water since he does not know the girl truly well. He rised from his slumber and decided to stand and walk away from the airport. The girl said, "Wait! Are you not gonna thank me or what?", Terra looked and said 'thank you' emptily and started walking away. "Wait, come on. You never mentioned your name. By the way, the name's Haruka Yagami.", the girl exclaimed as she was running towards Terra. The boy suddenly stopped and said "Terra,". "What? That's just it? Terra?", the girl moaned and seemed to look very troubled by his answer. The day was becoming dusk, so he decided to stay at the airport and wait for the night to become dawn. While he was staying in the airport, he noticed something off about the building, as if someone was watching him from behind. Terra checked to see if it was true but no one was there behind any wall that he could think as cover. He thought he was going insane because of the corruption.

He explored the airport to find if there were any scavengable materials to use. Instead of finding materials, he found a girl, lying on the floor with her eyes shut. She doesn't seem to have any blood from her dress and there were revenants nearby her body. "Poor girl, all alone in this cold world of demons and beasts.", he said to himself silently, as he watched her body sleep. He drank cold-brew tea from his water tumbler and pulled out a biscuit and decided to munch on it since he felt his stomach becoming more and more hungrier as he explored the building.

Lekiel JustAki

 

[Chise_Robin_]

asd

location: airport
tags: Hell0NHighWater Anise Rui Lakyr @stainsoftime scorpiodragon Kaas

Alaska ​

The light that momentarily engulfed the room stopped almost everyone in their tracks. Alaska use the opportunity to slit the throat of the revenant standing in front of her. She took a look around, revenants being lit on fire, or having their brains blown out. It was rather sereal..... Then their numbers started multiplying, the initial plan turned from fighting to fleeing, and to be honest she didn't have any problem with that.

Run, it's not over yet The witch doctor's voice echoed in her head as most of the survivors including Rhys and the white haired witched-who put on one hell of a fight- were now running in the direction of a weird snake that came out of nowhere. The hall was now almost empty of all of the survivors, and the revenants swarmed freely heading to the doors.

The chill of snow now filled the room, promising more cold outside. Alaska now ran for the door, rummaging in her bag for something as the revenants approached. Screaches and screams filled the room as she emptied a bottle of gasoline on some of the revenants, she was keeping it for warmth but it seamed like using it this way was more efficient. *click* the sound from the ignited lighter came almost inaudible compared to the screams that followed. She stood there a moment, appreciating her work as they burned, then turned around and left the hall.

Alaska ran until she catched up with the others, Adisa was carried by Rhy's who shared the burden of carrying the witch doctor's snake with the teenager who was crying in the hall earlier. Stella came up to them and took the snake to its owner, and Alaska now welcomed the cold breeze that greeted them, she followed in the little witch's footsteps relaxing her shoulders that were now killing her from the stress

.

design/code by Fable edited by Chise_Robin_

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

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[/class] [class=handsomedevil] text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; border-bottom: dotted 1px #140033[/class] [class=speakeasy] border-top: dotted 1px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fcfbf2; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:10px; text-align: left; float:right; width:62%;[/class]
[div class=biggie]
NIKLAS LIAM VOSS
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝
[div class=speakeasy]“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]

RUST & STARDUST
I̴̧̗̥̝̗̠̰͆̈͌̿̈́̕'̷͈̳͊͂͛͛̆̾l̷̠̻̘̻̟̏̈́̌͆̾̌̎͜ḽ̸̙͖̝̌͆ͅ ̴̰̗̟̲̬̪̿̑͝͠ẗ̷̢͓̪̜͍̘͓́̀e̴̹̮̪̦͈̻̐l̸͉̲̘̬̦̞̓͌͂̕ĺ̶͙͇͕̭̄̈̍ ̷̛͇̪̺̝͆̍́̕͝y̷̨̙̫̦͉̲̹͒̀̄̕͝ǫ̷̞̱̺̖́̅̈̃̏ũ̴̳̦̠̒̚ ̶̧̨͕̙̉͗͑̇s̴̢̝̺͍̺̪͕̄̕ơ̸͎̤̅͒͆̀͝͠m̸͉̥͍͈̊͌̀͂͐̚͠ę̵̛̰̜̪͓̌ͅt̸̢̤̣̮̠̳̄̌̀ͅḫ̸͖͔̠̂͛͘i̴̯͇͖̱͕̙̺̊ṋ̶̨̋̚͝g̸̜͆̏,̵̩̎̊̌̀͌̑ ̷̡̞̻͈͊̒̑I̶̡̳͎̮̰͓͊͛̉̋̈͛̽ ̷͇̜̥̱̬̙͌͌̀̇̑̇a̴̛͈͓̜̬̼̩̍͆̀̕͝m̵̡̲̰̀̀̿̍̇̋ ̵̤͆ã̸̪̞͚͓͇̏̑͐̈́̇͜ ̵͕́̈́͑̑ḋ̸̤̝͋͜e̸͇͈̹̅̋m̶̬͔̭̒̒ò̵͕̞̫̗̻̳̪̌̊͠͝n̵̢̛̬̊̾̚.̷̱̫̩͔̉͌̅͒S̵̻͖̝͕̏͘õ̴̡̎m̸̡̢̛̛̬̜̟̀̈̇̆̾e̷̥̠͎̝̯̹̱̔ ̶̨̜̘̇̄s̷̠͇̹̳͉̆̌̃̑̑͝a̶̺̱̞̅͠y̷̧͈͔̤̗̍̒͂̂ ̶͍̩̳͇̘͔̑͊͑m̶̢̥̦͈̰͙͍̿y̴̟̫̪͙̅̇̆̓̕͘͠ ̸̼̈̂̂̍̀̍b̸͓̝̘̏̔́i̵̢͍̮̱̤̣̺̿̂̅̉͠͝g̴̲̜͎̫̋̒͝g̴̢̻̣̖͙̔͜ễ̶̙͓s̶̢̙̗̖̻̻̓̀͗̆ẗ̵͉̜̻́̏̿ ̶̛̟̞̟͛̌͗͒́͂w̷̡̨̢͕̬̥̯̓͌̿̈̐e̸͉͖̭͒̒ā̸̬̙̽k̶̭͋͊̽̏̔ǹ̶̺̥̙̯̘̞̳ẻ̴̤̝͎̏͑ş̶̙̳͎̤̰͔͆́̓͑͐̒ś̶̫̻̳̾̆͋́͝ͅ.̸̞́̏̕.̶̘͌.̶̢͓̞̯̟̇̾Ì̸̩̞̤̰̮̤̦̊̓̂̀ ̵̧̲̼̱̼̊̽̆͛̒̑͘ĥ̷͔̟̗͈͌̚ã̵̙̮̫͆͋́v̵̭͉̹̣̗̪͗́̀̀͊ë̸̗̎̉̆̑̀͝ ̴̛̺͐̏̐̈́m̶͖̔̀ÿ̷̝͈̘̜͉́ ̶̙̯̘̈́͊̈͑͋̅͝ŕ̷̡̻̻͇͎̪̗͛̆͂́̇̈ę̶̛͈̫̭͉̒̎͠ă̴͕̼̺͎̦̅̆̄͊͐s̸͚͐̈́̃͛̏̈́͗ȯ̸̻͋̅͛n̷̳̮̭̘̮̲̆̈́̀s̵̩͓͐-̵̡͈͉͎͉͊̔̈͘-̴͚̥̖͓̮̏̕ͅĈ̵̦̜̦̖̽̾̚̕̕ǎ̴̛͇̈́͒̈́͋l̸̳̜͈̫͌̓̅̈͆͗͋l̶̬̽̕ͅ ̶̢̹̘̳̪̓̌ị̴̤̱͔̊t̶̰͙̿͠ ̵̫̣̋̎̅̾̿͒͝m̵̬̀͗y̶̲̗̞̫͙̒́̀̒̄ ̴̥̖̪̮̙͂̌̔̀͝͠d̵̡̜̜̫̊̅̚ė̴̦͉̫͕̞̖̦͑̕͝ḟ̷̯̄e̷̪̱͈̓́̄̾̔̄̌n̸̛͎̬̤̥̈́̚s̵͉͉̻͙̰̭̆̚̕ẻ̵̬̟͔͔̣̭̄̌̆̇͝͝.̵͈̖̤̳̌̂ ̶͖̉̍̽B̷̳̥̝̑̎̑̉͑͜e̵͕̺̫͑͌̽̕ ̴̧̼̻̹͐̑̈c̴͉̩͕̪̣̝̤̏͒͐̈́ä̵̬́͑͠͠ͅr̴̡̲̘̺̰͙̀é̴̝̭̠̬̑f̷̧̪̻̣͚͋u̶͍͗͗̑̈́͋̉͠ļ̵̬͆̀̆̀̓́͛͜ ̶̢̝̩̬̳̣͒̿̏͜͝w̵̧̧͚͚͖̠̉̕͝ͅḩ̵̢̗͍̬̭̀̿͒a̸̢̱͙̠̗͖̽́̽̿̍t̸̡̨̛͙̒͛̑̈́͝ ̸̱̥̹̟̐̌͒̈́̆̑͘y̵͔͎͛͂̇͝o̴̞̜̼͓͈͙̔̐ų̸͔̠́̏͛͂̿́̚'̴̪͍̜̝̈͌̓̀̈̚͠r̷̟̟̗̂͛̃̔̀é̶̮ ̸̟͌͆̑w̵̨̖̜̎̇͋̅͝ǐ̷̧̟̥͓̜́̈́͂s̴̢̮̖̀̌̀̂͐h̴̼̬͍̲͗͆͒ï̸̢̖͉̼̮̲ń̶̢͚̪̫͉̖̦̆͌͊̎g̵̨̩̪̯̰̜̑̃̏͌̃̀͝


[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxxxxxxxxxxxxOutside

OOC:xxxxxxxxxxxxxx wew

TAGS:xxxxxxxxxxxxx Hell0NHighWater Rui Chise_Robin_ Artificial Angel Lakyr

BGM:xxxxxxxxxxxxxx LOCK - THE LONELY ONES



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]
Still visibly shaken by the apparition—or perhaps hallucination—that had flickered across the air in all her beautiful blues and palor, Nik was having a difficult time registering the flames with his addled mind. But once they had licked into the air, and caressed the Revenants in their charring heat, he took deliberate notice. With wide eyes, the blond part-time devil almost stopped short in his tracks. He had seen blossoms of flame like this, but never twisting in the air with such fierce devotion, and none that could obliterate so many creatures of darkness at one time. Not wielded by a human, of course. He was worried, in the back of his mind, that he'd be consumed as well. For what he aligned himself to was more akin to their clawing gnarls and darkened souls (or lack thereof) than any of these humans.

But the combustion didn't come to claim him, and he couldn't help but remember Diana being broiled alive. When he had found her, she was curled up with her hands to her face. The sheer terror written all over her bones, etched into her skin in white-hot heat, was a memory he would never forget. And he wished, above all things, he could. Seeing her constricted, the meat melted away, her pelvis gouged with heat so deep that he could even see the tender child's mangled form within, was something no person should have to witness in their lifetime.

Perhaps that time marked when he slipped into darkness. It had felt like spindled, thin, clawed fingers reaching into his vertebrae. It shot up his spine like writhing mercury, and he had never been the same since. And how could he be? His entire life had scorched down to nothing. His entire future, gone. Their futures, their lives, snuffed out without so much as a "goodbye" or an "I love you".

That was perhaps the greatest regret he had. Not being able to tell her, one last time. His addiction to nicotine had been too cloying, and so he had permitted himself to stand outside and partake. Addiction would perhaps be his downfall, to the flesh, to the dark, to the kill, or maybe all three. This realization soured his face, and he bit back the memories as vehemently as he could, with the sharpened teeth of his still powerful mind.

Carrying that memory like a burden, and the realization that it had happened, was nearly a collection too hard to bear. But now was not the time to break down and claw his hands through his straw-colored hair. To rip scatches through his scalp, and scream as perhaps a Revenant screamed. He couldn't fall to his knees, he couldn't stop to feel the attack of panic wage war within his nervous system. He had to make it outside, and so he did, and wore a charming smile.

His charisma afforded him this lie. He could charm the pants off of anyone, and apparently charm the pain he felt into obfuscation. The wielder of lies and seduction could seduce himself into forgetting. Funny thing, that. What a gift to give him—that darkness had been kind. And yet it couldn't remove that scrape of memory for good, not as he was now. That was a key reason he was affectionate towards the sinful and abominable. Because maybe, just maybe, it could cleave it all away.

He hadn't even entertained the idea that the milk of human kindness could do the same. Or the embrace of anyone else. No care, no warmth, no true joy. He didn't think it existed anymore. Or perhaps, it scared him more than anything else. That someday he'd lose someone else. The shameless flirt never pried open his own ribs for someone else to rifle through, and grab his bleeding, beating heart. Because they could leave in hellfire, in an instant.

That, that was pure terror. He bade himself forget that, too.

They had made it out. He saw, and he appreciated it, and he was grateful.

Grateful for the timid boy he hadn't managed to see last time. Grateful for the girl with the revolver, and her dark hair, and her strength. Grateful for the wielder of knives. Grateful for all that stepped free, because it had been an impossible situation, that these special people had deigned possible.

Grateful for the silver creature spinning in the snow, her long hair like fine threads of moonlight. Her own power was impressive, and it crackled at him. He could smell it on the air. The wielder of flames was being carried on their fearless leader's back, and even then, Nik could smell the smolder. It lived in him, or perhaps, around him.

Grateful for the leader who stung his skin just by standing close by. That fucking white light, coiled in him, incessant, insistent...that would be a problem. It was too bright, too pure, and it was toxic to the afflicted man battling the demons within himself. But like any other foolish man, he would ignore it, or enjoy it, for as long as he was allowed to breathe air beside these people.

These were little blessings.

Nik thrust himself out into the snow, and realized that their fearless leader had the inability to handle...a simple snake. Niklas snorted, and began to laugh, deep in his chest. It tilted up in the registers of tone, until he wasn't even laughing anymore, just miming the motion. It wracked his stomach until it hurt, and tears filled his eyes with the stupidity of it all.

The silver-haired beauty began to speak about the snake's desire to be in the warmth, and he agreed—it needed it, as it was cold-blooded. He couldn't believe what was happening right now. It was too fucking rich.

"You're...afraid of a fucking snake?" said Nik, incredulously. He started laughing again, the cold seeping into his bones, but his laughter creating heat. He ran hot in most temperatures, so he would be fine for a little while. He had lost his coat during the skirmish, his knives now hooked into his belt, and was left with a thermal long-sleeved shirt. But he had nothing for his hands, nor his face.

"I’m sorry he frightened you. That rattle snake incident was rather traumatic for you, and I understand your fear, however I can assure you Mordega means you no harm at all." The silver-haired beauty had picked up the snake, and promptly put it back down on the wielder of flame's lax body. Nik couldn't help but wonder what in the hell this "rattle snake" incident was. Or why she was putting the snake back in the first place, when their leader was visibly distressed. And a distressed leader wasn't good for any of them.

"He's terrified of the bloody thing..." Nik said with a snort, dismissive of her tactics. With narrowed, thick brows, he stalked forward past the silver-haired woman twirling in the snow, and stepped in time behind their leader. He didn't speak for a handful of minutes, still smirking about the entire reptile debacle. Staring at their leader with a raised brow. He looked up at the snow that fell, dusting on his hair, paling it even further.

The snake made its appearance once more, curling above their leader's shoulder, and tried to wriggle itself into the enclave between their leader's back and the man he was carrying. Niklas rolled his eyes hard enough to create a gravitational orbit. The very idea that such a strapping young man was deathly terrified of snakes was beyond ridiculous. He had seen some things in his days, but this, this was new. And yet he felt a sympathy here, or perhaps something else.

"Don't pitch a fit, princess. I got it," Nik said with a half-cocked smile, reaching out his now warming fingers to pluck the creature with all the gentleness afforded to him. He liked snakes. Snakes liked him. They had had a boa constrictor way back in the day...Diana and him. They had to get rid of it because there was a baby on the way, and small, warm, living, screaming things near very large creatures that had a tendency to choke their victims to death, was not a good situation. They had gifted it to their friend Percival. Blake Anne Percy. Another one he had lost in all this, of course. She had flaxen blonde hair, large brown eyes, a bright magenta mouth, and a valley-girl accent.

He remembered her white go-go boots and floral dresses, and for but a moment, he imagined how far she would have gotten had they been together. The girl had a mean right hook, and she actually knew how to shoot a gun. She had a carrying permit from her home-state. He shook his head at the thought, muting the idea of her at his side. They'd have taken down the world together. And perhaps...Diana.

Nik gently placed the thing under his shirt, and it ended up coiling itself around his arm. He hoped to whatever dark Gods he prayed to that it wouldn't try to jam itself into his pants or some other equally improper location. But it seemed fine to rest there, for now.

"The last thing we need is our dashing hero pissing himself because of a snake." Nik said between a razor-sharp grin, taunting the whitelighter even now. The snow fell, he pushed forward, and warmed his body by hopping on his feet. The mood had changed. He had forced himself to temporarily forget, again, about Diana's charred remains. He had forced himself to temporarily forget, again, about her ghost. And Percy, Olivia, Henry...all of them. He couldn't take this trip through memory lane. He simply couldn't.

As the snow fell, Nik was staring up at it, surveying the dangerous wafts of the silvered castoff as it lifted around corners, and drifted into their vision. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but it could easily spell disaster. Perhaps a more direct, more deliberate disaster than even the Revenants, which could be fought off. But extreme weather? You can't beat down a snowstorm, or kick the clouds in the nuts.

"This is only going to get worse. We need to get somewhere safe. Preferably with food, and a stiff drink."
[/div][/div]

 

[scorpiodragon]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport
Date: 2 years post Hell or sometime 2068
Tags: Open[/div][/div][div class=title]Wallace Hyde-Born Hunter[/div][div class=text]One moment there had been nervous chittering and anxious movement from the survivors that had managed to group together within the airport. In the next few minutes things happened in tandem and rather fast...to fast for the aged hunter to really follow and comprehend. Survivors trickled in through the doors of the airport, the planes themselves having run out of gas or no longer having pilots to man them. Some foolish child leapt off the top of the balcony overhead and fell into the arms of one of the humans who was not so human anymore and appeared rather too cheerful for Wallace's tastes after the event. The not-so-human who apparently had taken charge, which was fine with Wallace as he hated being in leadership roles...for one thing he thought he might just kill everyone here as so far they were getting on his nerves and the second thing was that managing such a mass amount of people would undoubtly lead to some being killed regardless. As it turned out, Wallace would be right as usual concerning that.

A scream echoed from someone who fell through the floor somewhere in another area of the airport, bouncing off the walls of the airport. It didn't sound like the sounds of someone dying so Wallace did not bother to investigate, rather of someone again being foolish and wandering where they shouldn't. The aged hunter muttered an exasperated curse under his breath at the stupidity of this group of people...if they survived at all and didn't get chopped down by whatever demons from Hell were walking around outside, Wallace would be quite surprised. A person entered the building and spoke to the younger man that had gone to venture forth towards the stranger that appeared, the girl that had purposely thrown herself off the balcony hanging off the not-so-human self-imposed leader of the group who thereafter began issuing orders to the two groups. A rather...crazed individual with too much idle time on their hands and a snake for a familiar appeared and spoke that everyone was going to die...it was then that the first signs of trouble appeared.

Trouble which soon got people screaming for their lives and rushing towards one of the exits. Beings with black soul less eyes that stared at the group of survivors through the darkness, cutting through the group of survivors before they could get through the door. Before that there was a slight argument with one of those meant to take now dead survivors and the twins he had seen earlier who wanted to fight...why the youngster was not put in their place, Wallace hadn't the slightest idea but stuff like that wouldn't allow the so-called leader to remain in charge for long. Wallace would not be taking over as leader, that was for sure, though he might have to. Even though there were revenants scouring the building, humans still appeared. How they found a way in...well there were a multitude of doors into the airport so it was possible they had come in through said entrances, but one would think anyone with sense would stay away. Unfortunately common sense was something else that seemed to be forsaken with the arrival of Satan's armies upon the earth.

Wallace's skills were rusty and not the best with age creeping up on him. His hunter mark stood out against his skin rather prominently and was the only design on his right hand that showed his divine heritage and that he was a hunter. Hooking his foot into the dufflebag at his feet, Wallace pulled it forward and crouched to open it, pulling out a crossbow with two different types of arrows. Protective scripture and runes had been etched into the frame and into certain arrows which also shimmered in the light. Thankfully his old connection at the Order of Saint Michael was still alive and had arranged to have his weapons brought to him personally after refortifying them. Straightening once he had selected one of the blessed arrows; the ones that shimmered; he set it against the bow string and his mouth moved soundlessly before firing at one of the revenants. The next several minutes were spent retrieving his arrows that were fired from the ashes of the revenants and fighting with...the not-so-human man, the child who had argued and the strange person who emitted a magical aura with the snake always close at hand and had too much time on their hands. Of course there was also another hunter there, a younger one that he likely had not met before of if he did, he certainly didn't remember.

The battle was a while and when it ended, those that were inside moved outside and Wallace made sure to grab his bags as he fled, not only his duffel but a backpack he swung over his shoulders as he made his way outside. As he headed outside into the cold and blustering snow, Wallace pulled out a rag and began wiping off the arrowheads that had revenant blood coated on them before slipping them back into his duffel and then hefting it up when it was closed once more before heading off to scout the area ahead. The snow and cold were not much of blessing, it only hid things within their surroundings that could come out and attack at a moment's notice. It was then that he finally spoke. "Keep alert. The elements are a wonderful tool to Satan's armies and rogues to attack, especially in conditions like this or in heavy rainfall that blinds the eyes and other senses," spoke Wallace. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1515; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #f3c662; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1515; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

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[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport
Date: Unknown, 2068
Tags: Micajah[/div][/div][div class=title]Opal Vixen-WitchofEnchanting[/div][div class=text]Opal hadn't gone very far when the screaming started, only to one of the various vending machines that still had little snack foods located within. With there being a multitude of survivors within the airport, the pickings from the vending machines were naturally slim and so Opal didn't find the best snacks but a few to tide the twins over for the older of the pair didn't trust any of the people here to keep them safe. In a world like this, where both humans and strange creatures that she could only term as monsters, walked the earth...it wasn't a good time for a pair of kids to be on the run, let alone a female runaway of her age. Opal's powers were underdeveloped and only just having been activated, as she termed it, despite their mother being a witch. They didn't have much money on them but she did have some power she had only read about in fiction stories...something called Telekinesis which she knew could be used to great effect thanks to her mother's showing off and trying to teach Opal, despite their mother having practiced the school of Black Magic which made her ill just thinking about.

Opal used her telekinesis on the vending machines, serving to only fatigue her of energy and give her a massive migraine as she concentrated her mind on the vending machines but soon the snacks came shooting out of the bottom which she collected and stuffed into her bag. At that moment there was a scream from within the lobby the survivors had grouped themselves within and she turned to race back to the group when she ran into her brother, knocking both of them down onto the floor. Staring at him, the pair seemed to communicate with each other without words, for as they picked themselves, there was a rush of people who were making their way towards one of the exits. Gutteral laughter and harsh breathing echoed within their ears and the twins ran for the crowd of survivors trying to get out of one of the exits as monsters appeared among the group and began cutting down people like flies.

It was a bloodbath and yet Oracle grabbed her brother's hand and dragged him through the group, the pair slipping outside through the mass of destruction behind them, cold weather serving to shock them after having been somewhat warmer for the past few days they had been within the airport. As they escaped into the winter storm, the were blinded by the snow that hit them and the cold that sent chills down their spines. A few other survivors had managed to get out and bolted off into the snow like frightened rabbits, unfortunately that meant some of the monsters went to pursue them before the doors slammed shut, trapping the rest of the people within. The twins moved after the group of survivors that ran off into the blinding snow, none knowing where they were going to go with the revenants on their heels. A scream from someone behind them caused Micajah to turn, his sister cursing him as he did so. "Damn you Micajah, don't stop!" she shouted at him. Her brother only looked at her and spoke.

"We have to do something!"

Opal muttered something to her brother, frowning at him before raising her hand and pointing it off into the direction of the poor soul that was being devoured by the revenants. Opal, more out of a desire to protect her brother as one of them broke off and came towards the twins and the rest of the group, raised her hand and unleashed a torrent of flames towards not only the young girl but also the monsters that were eating the girl alive and also coming towards the twins. Their dying screams as they were set ablaze, trying desperately to escape the torrential heat, only to find themselves trapped within a wall of fire that seemed to move of its own accord whenever they tried to move, spreading out around them to protect the few survivors that were out as they ran...well it incinerated the monsters and the girl. All that was left was a pile of ashes which stained the white snow a dark gray.

This being the first time in years since Oracle had used her fire magic and unconsciously her second element of wind, was taxing on the young witch and her entire arm was shaking by the end of the flames. The massive drain of energy on the girl from the use of such dangerous magic in addition to the using of her telekinesis from earlier, caused her to crumple to the earth, not even her brother's cry as her body hit the frozen street. She was out before her brother reached her, her breathing shallow and skin paler than normal. Unfortunately, with the witch out and down for the foreseeable future, the fire spread outward, consuming what was in its path and the other survivors ran away before they could be consumed by the flames. Whether they would survive the harsh winter and make it to safety or whether they would end up perishing in the flames and fall to the monsters or the elements...perhaps even other humans...was unknown and would never be solved. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1515; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #f3c662; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1515; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

______________________________________________________________________________________


[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport
Date: Unknown in year 2068
Tags: Open[/div][/div][div class=title]Micajah Vixen-Human[/div][div class=text]Micajah didn't know what to make of the events that followed. Screams and blood, screams from both other humans and monsters with soul less empty eyes that stalked the group of people clustered within the airport. He ran towards his sister, grabbing his bag as he ran and crashed into her, finding her at the vending machines. A silent conversation which lasted only a few minutes and they ran towards the door, managing to fight their way through the survivors that were trying to escape and squeezing out of the mass of people, even as the screams of others doomed to death or perhaps worse, echoed in their ears. They were the last to leave, there being a few ahead of them and Micajah watched as the doors slammed shut before giving his sister a curious look. Was she responsible for that? Opal shook her head as she met his gaze and they ran after the group they could just see through the snow.

A scream from behind caused Micajah to turn around and stare at the appearance of a young girl being torn apart by some of those soul less monsters that had apparently gotten out into the sunlight. "Damnit Micajah!" his sister shouted at him as she turned and rushed towards him, their hands having come unclasped in their run.

"We have to do something!"

"We can't do anything!" Opal shouted before cursing and raising her hand. "Get ouf the way Mic," said Opal before unleashing a torrent of flame from her hand before the wind began to pick up as well and helped spread the fire to the monsters before them. Micajah could only watch in shock and confusion as his sister exhibited such arcane abilities, not having been allowed to venture with their mother when his sister was being trained. When his sister fainted though, Micajah rushed towards her, concern etching itself onto his face as he noted her shallow breathing and pale skin. He knew they would freeze to death if they ended up not being able to move and his sister was obviously in no condition to do so.

"Opal!" he shouted, crouching down to shake her but she didn't respond to his shouting of her name. He looked around for the other survivors that his sister had inadvertently protected but they were long gone. The younger of the twins looked around for help but found none available and he didn't want to remain out here come dark or risk running into more of those things...whatever they were. While still being crouched next to his sister, Micajah slipped his hands underneath her and picked her up in his arms before turning and setting off into the storm...the twins would be gone before the other survivors got out, if there were any left. All Micajah knew was that he had to get both of them to somewhere safe. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1515; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #f3c662; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1515; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: Newark Airport --> Newark
Tags: Everyone heading to the gas station [/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
His blood ran cold, his mouth suddenly even more dry now than when he first started running. Rhys turned his head to look at the girl who had spoken, those indigo darts were sharp yet still filled with the residuum of emotion. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown as he watched her take the snake. The momentary relief he felt however came crumbling down like a poorly made jenga tower. He paused, mid-stride, fear ebbing away to irritation and a heady sort of anger.

"You shouldn't know anything about that." His voice came out as a rasp, stripped from the weight of its usually authority all while maintaining that edge that could cut through steel. He had no explanation for her words, not one brought about by logic at least, and he found no comfort in them. Rhys adjusted Adisa's body, glancing quickly at the man's face before turning that heated azure back to the silver witch. His lips pressed into a flat line, the right side of his jaw pulsed in irritation. He didn't know how she knew these things, but he didn't appreciate it coming out of her mouth like it was common knowledge. So what he was scared of snakes? Going through what he had, any sane person would be, but that didn't mean he wanted her to know about it. Especially when he never told her. Rhys had never been a sharing kind of guy, hell it took Monica weeks to learn the more mundane details about him.

The thought of Monica --with her bright green eyes and snapdragon colored hair--caused his mood to sour even further. He didn't want the reminder, and the sudden clenching in his gut made him wish that there was some way to forget. Two years was hardly enough time to process the horrors he had witnessed that day, to heal the gaping hole left in his chest, to drink away the pain of what he had lost. Time just kept on slipping through his fingers as if it were an unstable form of jello; solid and yet wobbly, a construct that held no parameter other than that which lied in retaliative theory.

His body stiffened reflexively, eyes widening as she placed the serpent back on it's owner --who consequently was still slung across his shoulders. Rhys made a strangled sound in the back of his throat tracking the scaly creature before a laugh pulled him out from his fixation. Azure irises glared at the man who seemed to find this situation funny. He could feel the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. He was going to deck the bastard when they found a place to stop. He could see it now: his fist slamming right into that pretty face of his. Rhys shivered again as the snake moved, a yelp leaving his lips as it started to nestle back into the space it had originally been in. His breathing started to get ragged and he could feel the onset of a panic attack threatening to take hold. But he couldn't break down, not when there were so many people who depended on him. Somehow these survivors looked to him for guidance and he couldn't leave them handing, he couldn't-
The reptile was lifted from him once more and he instantly felt more at ease, this time he hoped that it wouldn't be put back.

"Thanks..." He grumbled a bit of reluctance in his tone, he didn't really appreciate the snarky remark but bit his tongue anyway. The last thing Rhys needed was to start an argument over some arbitrary name. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax as much as his paranoia would allow and continue walking. The next comment was impossible to ignore however and his head snapped towards the afflicted with a scowl. "I've met some real fucking pricks in my time, but you my friend, are a fucking cactus and I don't have the blood alcohol level to deal with you right now."

He walked a little faster, hoping to ditch that stupid afflicted, but the man was a literal thorn in his side. No matter what he did it was like the guy was tagging along after him. He hummed a bit in reply, glancing up towards the ominous clouds that gathered on the horizon. It would be dark soon and if they all wanted to survive then shelter was a number one priority. "There's a gas station just up ahead. Let's just hope it's a good enough place to stop for the night."

By the time the group meandered into Newark, the last threads of daylight were kissing dangerously close to the horizon. From the street, the old shell gas station looked like nothing special. The weary double doors were smudged with dirt and grime. The glass windows had some bullet holes in it though, which wasn't a good sign but the absence of life made him confident that those had been put there a long time ago. A Ford-F150 sat beside a gas pump, abandoned and left to nature's own devices. Rhys studied the truck for a long moment before warily approaching the tiny building. His shoulders were aching and his muscles were crying out in agony.

"Can you get the door?"

The question wasn't to anyone in particular, but he was tired and he needed to put Adisa down before his back broke.

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[Epiphany]

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: An old Shell Station
Date: Unknown, in the evening during sunset
Tags: Everyone fleeing the airport[/div][/div][div class=title]Emma Treadstone[/div][div class=text]
"Allow me."

Movement inside the gas station came a mere second before the double doors swung open. Standing inside, the redhead woman was silhouetted in the growing dusk by the flicker of a propane lamp inside. Wrapped in a coat that fell thigh-length, her eyes seemed to gleam in the fading light of the day as her gaze swiveled from person to person to person. Her right hand held a pistol, a new looking Glock 272 9mm Caseless, likely looted from a gunshop. But she had it pointed to the ground and her left hand was free to beckon the survivors inside the shell station.

"Come on, you might as well all get in here. You don't to be out here in the dark, do you?" She smiled slightly, shook her head and held the door open, allowing an easy inspection of the interior.

The gas station's convenience store had long ago been looted. And yet the empty shelving had been left behind and someone, perhaps her, had shoved that shelving to block all of the glass windows. With boards hammered across the base and at various junctures, the whole assemblage would provide a pretty effective barricade if someone or something tried to force their way through the windows. As for the open doors, the original glass had been reinforced with wood planks for some extra weight as well as sturdiness. All in all, it wasn't the exposed deathtrap that a place like that might be in the case a roving pack of Revenants wandered this way.

As for the interior itself, most of the flooring was laid bare providing ample space for people to stretch out. A propane lamp hung from a long-since defunct sprinkler, shedding enough illumination to reveal a bedroll along with several crates evidently wheeled out from the broken down coolers. Two cases of bottled water somewhat past their expiration had been left behind in the distant past, now stacked atop each other on a dolly. The plastic wrapping had been peeled back and one bottle was removed, though it hadn't traveled far given it stood empty next to the bedroll. A small propane stove was the only other furnishing and an empty, clean plate suggested she'd had dinner some time ago. Thankfully, a small crate containing what looked like MREs was parked in the corner, unopened yet plainly labeled.

"I'm Emma," she said, by way of introduction. "And I'm guessing you're the ones responsible for all that racket I've been hearing for the last hour from the direction of the airport?"
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[Chise_Robin_]

asd

location: airport
tags: Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda Epiphany

Alaska ​

Beautiful bits of snow here and there took her memory back to the old days..before all of this started, back when she'd go on hunting trips with her brother and father and come back victorious.

Alaska stared at her Hunter's mark for a long time as she walked ahead of the group, their conversation though heard wasn't quite comprehended by the huntress, she snapped back to reality only when the blue eyed telekinetic guy with the half smile started insulting Rhys.
hey asshole, what are you most afraid of? she looked into his charming blue eyes daringly, it was hard not to be attracted to him, though he somewhat...scared he. She turned back and with arms locked together behind her back walked in silence till they reached the gas station.

SEL[/CENTER]
the logo stood grand on top of the gas station, missing an H and one of it's L's. Alaska stood gazing at it till Rhys' voice came to her ears. Reaching for the doors she halted when they were opened from the inside, and now she stood staring at a pair of bright eyes and beautiful red hair.

A moment of hesitation passed before Alaska followed the weird woman in looking around the station curiously. She put her hair up in a bun because of the vibrant gasoline smell that still engulfed the place. Yeeaah, it was a little...hectic Alaska shrugged frowning at the tilted shelving, good idea! you have quite the home here...I'm Alaska She stated while taking a seat in one of the corners of the room hugging her knees..

The image of the burning revenants was all she could think about, the young huntress rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes trying to dose off despite the noise the others were making.



[/color]

design/code by Fable edited by Chise_Robin_

 

[Artificial Angel]

Terra

As he explores deeper in the airport, he found a man. He was quite a tall man with a fair complexion and copper hair. He felt some aura emanating from him but he needed to be closer to examine it. He hid behind a wall, trying to observe him but he got distracted by a stuffed kitten near him. He was discovered by the man and asked,

"What do you think you're doing?"

This made Terra freak out since he knew that he had magical abilities judging from the man's aura, and raised his sword against the man. He stood and said,

"Well, what a peculiar situation we have here,".

Terra put the sword back on its sheath. He examined his aura once more, he found that it was quite dark, as if he was mastering the dark arts and blood magic.

"A user of the dark arts with a bit of blood magic, I presume?",

Terra said to the man, questioning him if it was really true. He wondered what it was like to handle such power but he knew that too much power could corrupt and turn him into a Skinwalker. The man does not respond to his question.

"Well, if you don't want to answer then thats fine with me.",

he said then grabbed the stuffed kitten and started to walk away from the man.

He then suddenly heard a gunshot from somewhere in the building. It sounded like a shotgun, which he thought came from Haruka and decided to investigate the noise. He went back where he came from and saw Haruka looking at a burning revenant. He wondered what was going on inside Haruka's head at the moment. He placed the Stuffed Kitten near Haruka and left it there. Terra finds a place to sleep for the night, in a cozy corner of the airport.

JustAki pot4to